The Rev. Lynne Mikulak on the uncertainty of life and death

A Different World View

I kept my expectations low the day I submitted my abstract for a poster presentation on “Interventions for Religious Problems among Lesbian/Gay/ Bisexual/Transgendered Population” for the International AIDS Conference in Bangkok last July. I was told by my colleagues of social workers, doctors, nurses, psychiatrists and administrators at the Center for Special Studies at New York-Presbyterian Hospital/Weill Cornell Medical Center that it was a highly competitive conference. As a chaplain, I had to submit my abstract into the enormous track of “social and economic issues”, which was particularly competitive.

The day the notification of acceptance emails came in, we rushed down the hallways to see who had been accepted and to support each other. I let out a holler of celebration when I received my acceptance. The excitement and anticipation we shared together was extremely palpable in the weeks to come as we began preparing our posters and planning the trip. We had several meetings where we checked out hotels Web sites, sought fun weekend activities, reviewed the conference itinerary, and discussed famous restaurants and attractions. We planned to work and play intensely.

My mood about the trip remained upbeat until about three days before our departure. I became increasingly anxious and fearful. I was having difficulty eating and sleeping. Specifically, I was convinced I was going to die at some point during the flights or the trip. I even began preparing my papers at home in case the worst did happen.

This was no ordinary response for me. I love to fly and travel. I had been doing a lot of traveling with very little anxiety. In the last few years, I had made several flights across the country, Atlantic and Pacific without physical or mental incident. At first, my death anxiety made little sense.

The morning of the flight I got to the airport early and went to the chapel to pray. This was not a plea, “Oh God, please don’t let me die during this trip.” I admit I did sneak that in, however I believe those types of prayers to be futile. This was mostly a prayer of silence and listening. I was listening for the still small voice to tell me not whether I would die, but why I was feeling like I would die.

The answer unfolded in layers. The obvious answer was my major transition just a few weeks earlier – a move from Connecticut to New York City after my 18-month commute became unbearable. We sold the house, the car, the piano and half our possessions to squeeze into our tiny new apartment. No wonder I felt like I was going to die. A significant part of me did die! Relocating, frequently listed as one of the most stressful things we humans can do, became a quick metaphor for dying.

More clarity came as the conference progressed. It became evident that I was blocking awareness about my fears of the bold risk I would be taking in unfurling a poster about acceptance and pastoral care of Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual/Transgendered people. I knew I would meet some level of judgment, but did not know to what degree. I did not know my poster would be placed right next to the poster of an epidemiologist from Saudi Arabia who would meticulously explain to me the Muslim law that states why and how homosexuals should be put to death. Nor did I anticipate that a man would stand in front of my poster and snicker and then laugh in my face and become hostile when I would try to engage him. I also did not expect representatives from Christian churches to approach me and give me pamphlets about why homosexuals with AIDS will burn in hell when they die. They all had very different definitions of “pastoral care.”

I was not prepared for the social injustices, poverty and oppression I would witness both at the conference and in the streets of Bangkok. While wealthy pharmaceutical companies were inside the conference hall sponsoring extravagantly-decorated booths and handing out free giveaways, protesters with no access to medications and who were dying of AIDS were outside displaying the incongruities of healthcare. Sex workers, the poor begging in the streets and homeless dogs and cats were all part of the landscape in which the conference was placed.

I came back home very much alive. Yet my world view was now different. I had a sense of being on a spiritual journey where one dies and is reborn. My ministry to the patients with HIV/AIDS in New York City was transformed by my experience. I could minister to them and their problems from a broader perspective and within a global context. What I saw now informed my work in a new way. I could go a little deeper into their own pain with them, into their spiritual journeys, into their fears of dying, and into their own deaths.