A Christmas Passing

She was dying. At fifty-five lung cancer invaded her life. Unbeknownst to her the insidious growth had metastasised throughout her body. Though the doctors were kind, their eloquent words did not disguise the harsh reality of her situation. Nothing more can be done to save you. She left the metropolis and returned to her home, a small town of fifteen hundred souls, where we recived her into our care. It was just days before Christmas. A steady stream of visitors frequented her room in the ensuing days. Friends, and what little family she had, came to pay their last respects as the time slipped by. The nurses did not have much regard for her life partner. His visits were sporadic and very brief during which his treatment of our patient was less than kind. He seemed too wrapped up in himself. His own life and suffering consumed him and he did not offer any comfort to the one he had committed his life to. Her decline was steady and all could see that the end was close at hand. Christmas day dawned as a cold, dark winter day. The hours ticked by and no one came to sit with our young patient. Had they forgotten her? Given up? Were they too focused on their celebrations of the holiday to offer comfort to one in turmoil? The nurses checked in on the patient often to prevent the pain from becoming unbearable. She suffered from brain mets and was at times confused. We were not entirely sure that she had constant awareness of what was to occur. Finally, all alone in the greyness of the afternoon, she slipped away. Is this what Christmas is? Do we so insulate ourselves from the dark part of life, the suffering and death of others, and focus on the light, joy, and happiness for ourselves? Are we so selfish that we cannot allow any interruption to our happy holidays? I certainly hope not. To me, Christmas is about loving others...a love that can be so painful at times.