What do you do when you face pure suffering? That is a question I recently faced.
We have been working in the town of Magdalena Milpas Altas for several months now. Although it is a high population area with a decent infrastructure, there is so much poverty in the town and surrounding area. There is a high concentration of people with special needs, and very few resources for them. So, I wasn’t surprised by the message I received one evening.
The text came from my friend, Juan, who has been our contact in the area, and it was accompanied by pictures that would produce nausea and vomiting in most people. The first was a picture of an emaciated young man seated on a bed. His face reflected the pain and misery he was experiencing. But the following two photos showed severe pressure sores on his buttocks and back that were horribly infected. Juan was asking me if I could visit him when I came to town the next day.
I immediately replied and told him that this young man would die soon without medical help, so he wrote and told me that they would take him to the hospital. Knowing that they would take him to the national hospital, I quickly told hm that they would kill him there and that we would arrive as soon as possible the next day.
The next day was Burn the Devil Day in Guatemala, so traffic was horrible. A local town was shut down for festivities, causing horrible jams all around them. We had to take a very circuitous route that added an hour to our journey, but finally made it at almost 2:00 pm. And we arrived to find a young man suffering worse than anyone I have ever met.
Jose is 19 years old. Five months ago he was working for the power company when he accidentally grabbed a live wire. For ten seconds, current passed through his body until he fell five meters to the street below. We do not know if it was the fall that caused his chronic pain or the electricity cooking his spinal cord. What we do know is that even the smallest movement in his arms, legs, or back produces excruciating pain down his spine. And for the last five months he has been in Roosevelt, the national hospital in Guatemala City. And that is where he developed those bedsores.
We talked with his mom and asked her what the doctor said about his sores. They told her that they would heal up in a month or so. And the more I learned of Jose’s story and the care that he received, the angrier I got. I honestly believe that if the doctor would have been present at that point I would have broken his nose. (Sorry for that glimpse into my carnal side.)
I had Katie Harms with me (a nurse from Canada), her husband, Kevin, and Susan McLay. The three of them are all serving in our home as interns now, and they came along to provide assistance.
We inserted a catheter to keep urine off his wounds. Then we started cleaning and debriding his sores. This is a long process of cutting away the dead tissue to expose the healthy tissue. Then we showed his mother how to pack the wound. And, throughout our work, Jose would regularly cry out in pain.
During this process, as I was leaning over his bed and working on his wounds, Kevin asked me if I thought he would be okay. I blinked back tears and simply shook my head.
Both Katie and I attempted to start an IV, but he was so dehydrated that we could not hit a vein. We gave him an injection of antibiotics to begin to treat his infection, but were later told later that he had been on that same antibiotic for five days with no affect. So, I took a swab of his wound for a culture and told them I would return when the result were back. Meanwhile, we told them to push oral fluids.
As we were ready to leave, another gringo arrived. He was the director of a Christian ministry that was trying to help the family. He explained that he had found a doctor who would operate on the sores and treat him. The cost would be $10,000 USD, but he thought he could raise the funds.
I spoke with him at length about the situation. I explained that the bedsores were a symptom of the real issue, the damage to his spine. I said they could do the surgery, but most of his suffering would remain. Both he and his mom had recently prayed to receive Jesus into their lives, so I asked him to prayerfully seek the Lord to discern whether they should use those resources to prolong the life of a young man who was suffering so profoundly, or whether we should let him go be healed with Jesus.
He told me that he would consider my words and pray about it. When I spoke to him the next morning, he said that they felt the Lord was telling them to proceed with the surgery. (I am not saying that decision was wrong. I honestly don’t know. I can only trust and pray that it was correct.)
But that day Jose began vomiting and suffering from severe diarrhea. He was septic, so the other ministry leader transported him to a private hospital where they began treatment and quickly did surgery on his sores. He is currently hospitalized and recovering.
This entire situation has left me asking some hard questions about myself. And, at the top of that list, is this question:
Have I become so used to death that I surrender to it too easily?
As I worked on Jose’s wounds that afternoon, I decided that we would continue to visit and treat his sores and infections and make him comfortable. But I also decided that we would not take any heroic measures to save his life. Knowing that he had a relationship with Jesus, I believed that it was best to let him go. And I prayed he would go soon. But I committed myself to walking with them until the end, loving them all the way.
Then arrived a man with passion in his eyes, ready to fight for his life. Ready to raise $10,000 to get the surgery. Not at all ready to surrender to death. And I wondered if I was wrong.
I honestly don’t know. I don’t know if Jose will ever be free of his excruciating pain in this life. I don’t know if he will live to see Christmas or if he has a long life ahead. I know so little.
In fact, after almost seven years of living in Guatemala and doing this ministry, I am sure of one thing. I know less now than I did seven years ago. At least it seems that way. I have learned so much. But with each truth I learn, I become aware of two or three things I have yet to learn.
I have seen so much suffering and death. It has become a way of life. And it still brings tears to my eyes. But maybe it has become too familiar. I know that I don’t fight against death as hard as I once did, because death doesn’t seem so scary.
Back in the States, death appeared to be such a huge step…a massive transition to a place far away. But not anymore. I have had the privilege of being with so many as they have taken their last breath. And I have come to see it as a simple step through a doorway. My children and friends who have gone on to be with Jesus no longer seem so far away. They are just on the other side of a doorway. And, some days, I can press my ear to the door and hear their laughter on the other side.
I believe life is precious and valuable, and that goes for everyone from the unborn to the senior citizen. It is not that I now value this life less, it’s just that I value the life to come more. And I want everyone to experience it one day.
I recently shared on Facebook my vision of heaven. I don’t know if it is correct or not, but I like to think it is. The Bible tells us that the last will be first and the first will be last in the Kingdom to come, and I know that is referring to being humble and a servant to others. But I would like to think it applies to other areas as well.
I envision one day arriving in heaven and, after seeing my Jesus, being surrounded by all the ones to whom we ministered here. Adults and children who were twisted, suffering and bound to wheelchairs, braces and crutches here will be unfettered there. And we will have a big race. We will line up on the starting line, and Jesus Himself will start the race.
“Ready! Set! Go!!!!!!”
And we will run and run in a place where no one gets tired or weak. And when we cross the finish line, we will all collapse together in a pile of laughter. And why are we laughing? Because I came in last!
I cannot imagine a better day than that. So, I long for heaven. I long for an end to the suffering that I see here. And, when I see suffering such as Jose is experiencing, I long for eternal healing.
And that is the balance I must find. Somehow, I have to fight for precious life here while understanding the life that awaits is far better. I have to know when to fight, and when to stop. Please pray that our team and I can find that balance and fight well until it is time to stop. And pray that we do it for the glory of the Author of both this life and the life to come.
Blessings from Guate!
Daryl, Wanda and the Crew
