"I want your peace.” Jan Esser
I met Jan in my outpatient ambulatory care clinic. She had advanced COPD or
Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. She was on multiple inhalers to salvage her ailing lungs and rescue her breathing. She had been hospitalized several times for COPD exacerbations requiring short term bursts of steroids. She had not yet needed oxygen when we met in clinic. Over the two years I knew her, she began leaning into walls, hand walking to her room. She steadied herself on the back of furniture to save her breath. The lung disease was progressing quickly. It was becoming more and more difficult for her to get to the clinic, park her car and go up the flight of stairs to see me.
She was a beautiful mother. She had two adolescents and one young adult child whom she loved. She was particularly doting over her youngest son who suffered from severe autism. She and her husband were divorced but shared the same home. Her marriage was severely strained, but this never took away from the beautiful way she cared for her children, the loves of her life.
Jan suffered from severe anxiety disorder. She nervously smoked 3 to 4 packs of cigarettes a day to calm down. She told me her mother did the same thing and died in her early 50s from COPD.
Jan was 52. She was scared to death to die. Just the thought of death made her voice tremble and her hands visibly shake. She felt she made many big and bigger mistakes throughout life and figured God was not happy with her. In the back of her mind were many negative thoughts such as: “Will I die as young as my mother did? I smoke just like she smoked.” aaaarrrgggg. As hard as she tried to quit, she simply was not successful ridding herself of the cigarette habit. Nicotine quelled her fears, temporarily.
One day in the clinic, I saw that her condition continued to decline and oxygen was ordered. Her oxygen saturation, (concentration of oxygen in the blood) was dropping with minimal activity to the low 80s and even high 70s. In healthy lungs oxygen should stay up around 96 to 99%. We talked about her disease advancing. I continued to see her in clinic a few more times however she was having more and more difficulty getting to appointments. One day in clinic she asked if I could visit her in her home. I remember asking myself how could I do
that? I don't think I can add another timely obligation to my schedule. A couple of minutes later I offered to see her in her home once a month.
As her disease progressed her supplemental oxygen needs continued to go up as her saturations went down. She was becoming fragile. She was no longer able to leave her home, becoming officially homebound. She continued to be extremely anxious. I gave her my phone number one day and she called me day and night distraught. It was about at this point that I determined that she had six months or less to live and would be eligible for hospice.
On visits to her home after my last patient around 6, the bedroom fan was blowing, tapping and running constantly to aid her breathing. The heavy oxygen tank was humming, set outside the door with its clear tubing wandering and looping about heading to her bedside table, covered with orange prescription bottles. A heavy smell of cigarettes pervaded the room during the early evening visits.
One evening her exam was done and measurements were documented. I tossed my stethoscope over my shoulder while I studied her. Her skin was ever so fragile, so pale, finger tips were light blue. Her lips trembled. Her beautiful blue eyes penetrated mine. She spoke intently: "I want your peace. How come you’re so peaceful? I want what you have, Dr. Miller.” You have a lot going on in your life. You lost your husband and are raising your children alone. How and why do you seem so peaceful? I want what you have. How do you do it?
“My Peace?” I had to think and admit: Yes. I have been gifted with peace. It’s my life lived in union with Jesus. I answered her honestly and with all my heart. Her question gave me an opportunity to share my Catholic faith with her. My deep peace comes from my trust in Jesus Christ; that He is with me every moment of every day. I receive Jesus in the Holy Eucharist for strength and holy courage in this life. Jan, I cannot imagine doing this life alone.
Janet looked at me intensely and anxiously again and said: “I want your faith but I can’t have it! I want Holy Communion. My sister said I will go to hell if I ever become Catholic. She said all Catholics go to hell.” The thought of going to hell made Jan shake and tremble visibly. We changed the subject.
As visits continued, Jan continued to bring up the Catholic faith and practice of religion to me. I asked her if she would like to take lessons in the Catholic faith. Would you like to meet a priest friend of mine who can come here to your home and teach you?” With great enthusiasm, she said yes! YES!
At that point, I called my priest friend and hospital chaplain at the time, Father James Livingston. He immediately added her to his packed schedule and came to see her in her home, giving her bedside lessons and introducing her to the Catholic faith. Jan didn't have much time left. He taught her that her bed ridden life reminded him of Saint Therese of Lisieux who, even confined to bed due to lung disease (tuberculosis) became a great saint and even Doctor of the Church. She became known as the Saint of the Little Way. From bed, she was named patron saint of missionaries, as her confident prayers were magnanimously sent around the world to mission outposts. Jan had a big heart like Saint Therese.
Jan’s major obstacle was getting past the tremendous fear of her sister who convinced her that she would go to hell if she became Catholic. With lessons offered by Father Livingston, her growing stronghold of Faith eclipsed her fears. She decided to enter the Catholic Church. Jan asked Father Livingston to be her Godfather.
I was at her bedside that glorious day when Father Livingston got on his knees and gave her the sacraments of Reconciliation, Holy Eucharist and Confirmation. Heaven opened over her little bedroom. A trifecta! It was exquisite.
I’ve never seen a priest so happy as his strong frame bounded down the steps of her home as he left. His smile was king-sized!
Jan’s demeanor changed that very day. Peacefulness dominated her being and she was able to prepare for her final days. Jan went from panic attacks, calling me several times a week, to not calling at all. Her sister was upset with her choice, but Jan was no longer distraught. She steadily grew her understanding, faith and trust in Jesus Christ. She received the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ as often as it was brought to her bedside. She worked on sacrificial acts of love and offered forgiveness from her bedside, until God called her.
Shortly before she died, she called me excited and said: "Dr. Miller, you're never going to believe this!! I said: What won't I believe? My sister is becoming Catholic too! Miracle of miracles my other sister is joining the church too. That’s three of us! She was literally bubbling over with joy at her sister’s news.
In the gift of clarity often found in those with little time left, she was forgiven of all her “big mistakes,” made happy memories with her children and sisters, and left a legacy of love and peace. Yes.
J a n f o u n d p e a c e.
-Nancy Miller-Johnson, MD #LiveSMOL
