Grace

I’ve had many days like this one. I’ve cared for many sick patients, many sick young patients, and seen many of them die. So why was today so different?

Grace was about my age, HIV positive, and was in renal failure. This morning she was very sick. Sicker than yesterday; sicker than ever. There was nothing else we could do, fluids wouldn’t help, and no medication could heal her body. Her mother had been by her side constantly since admission, and diligently and lovingly had cared for this young woman, feeding her, dressing her, doing all the things Grace needed her to do, without a moment of hesitation or objection, and not one utterance of complaint. This morning, we had to tell Grace’s mother that there was nothing more we could do, and that Grace is most likely going to die. I’ve been here before, heard this story many times. What got me was the look on Grace’s mother’s face. I saw the moment of realization that her child was going to die. I felt like I could physically feel her heart breaking, and I felt so much sorrow and helplessness in that moment. She was looking from side to side, like she was looking for someone to help her, someone to tell her this wasn’t real. She clutched her heart, asking how? why? As a few tears rolled down her cheek, she looked pleadingly at us and then back at her daughter. There is nothing I can say in this moment, and I reach for her, touch her arm, and mumble something like “I’m so sorry”. As we move on from her bedside, Grace’s mother begins to cry. She leans near her and starts to pray. Though I don’t understand her prayers, I join her silently from where I am standing, asking for comfort and peace for them, and a bit of strength for myself right now, and I let a tear fall.

Not quite 2 hours later, I am helping to prepare Grace’s body and we walk down the long outdoor corridor to the mortuary, mother and fellow bedsiders following behind, wailing for her loss.

Later that day, I think about what would have happened in Canada. Well, first, Grace would have had more medical support available to her, but aside from that, I think things would have been slightly different. When someone dies in the hospital at home, it is very private. For starters, patients often have their own rooms, not just a mobile cloth screen separating them from the 40 other patients on the ward. Family is present, but not as constantly, not as actively. When the deceased is taken away from the ward, it’s done very discreetly, often waiting for a quiet time when no one is in the halls. Here, we make an announcement for the other bedsiders to join the family as we travel to the mortuary together. These other women have been with Grace’s mother since she arrived, caring for their own relatives, chatting about family, health, and other daily things. There is no judgment, whether someone has HIV or not, whether they are rich or poor, they are all here for the same reason, someone is sick and needs their help. And when someone dies, they don’t turn away, not for a moment.

My chains are gone, I’ve been set free
My God my Saviour has ransomed me
And like a flood, His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing Grace