Rev. D. Wayne Bogue, D. Min.
“The End of Time”
The moment the word “cancer” assaults their minds and hearts, many patients experience a foundational perspectival shift I call “the end of time.” Suddenly, life seems derailed. “This was not in my plans!” and “My life has been cut short!” are common themes uttered by patients. This is the entry point of anxiety.
Hope tends to lower anxiety and allows us to live with passion and purpose. Hope springs, in part, from a positive view of the future. First, I have a future. My life will unfold before me. Second, my future, even with challenges, will be positive. A diagnosis of cancer can blot out the vision of a positive future. Time is cut short. The future is gone. Hopelessness sets in. Anxiety rises.
Maggie, a young mother of two, expressed this ominous feeling while lying in her room on the oncology unit. When I met her, she lay in semi-darkness. Her face wore a pall of fear, her jaw muscles twitched beneath her pale skin. Her young husband, Jeff, who sat in a chair next to her bed, mirrored her tension. Anxiety was palpable.
After a few minutes, Maggie began to share – she could no longer envision a future with her in it. Her daughters would prepare for their proms without her. Her husband would raise the girls on his own. While I listened, she began to express anger at God for stealing her life in her youth. She asked me if her doubts about God’s presence demonstrated a lack of faith. The more she talked, the more her anxiety emerged.
As her chaplain, my role was to provide a compassionate presence and a safe space where Maggie and her husband could speak their anxiety out loud. The more they talked, the more the atmosphere seemed to lighten. Maggie’s face relaxed. Her jaw unclenched. Jeff sat on her bed and put his hand on her leg. She and Jeff began to talk about their daughters here and now. Then Maggie began to talk about the girls growing up. She still did not know whether she would be with them physically as they prepared for the prom. But her tone and demeanor suggested she sensed a glimmer of light ahead.
The next morning I saw Jeff in the hallway chatting with a nurse. He smiled and greeted me warmly. He said Maggie had slept well and was going home. He told me she still had a long road, but our time together had helped them.
The truth is I do not understand exactly what happened. I had done little but sit with them and encourage them to talk. I listened without judgment as Maggie talked about the “end of time.” But then she was able to move beyond that bleak moment."Without a vision, the people perish." (Proverbs 29:18) We need to envision a future in order to thrive.
How can we as healthcare chaplains help our patients look further down the road with hope?
Rev. D. Wayne Bogue, D. Min., recently completed a Chaplain Residency at Roper St. Francis Healthcare, in Charleston, SC. He is now a chaplain at Hospice Care of America in Charleston. He received an M. Div. and D. Min. degree from Princeton Theological Seminary and served as minister for two Presbyterian congregations over a period of fourteen years. He was born in Sydney, Australia and moved to the U.S. with his family when he was ten. He became a U.S. citizen in 1989. He went to Charleston to participate in the CPE residency program at Roper Saint Francis Healthcare. It was an outstanding experience for him. In his spare time, he writes both fiction and non-fiction, fishes (mainly in the surf of the Atlantic), reads, and enjoys life. He is currently editing a 19th century Spanish novel (in translation) for a small publishing company.
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