Playing God?

Playing God?

I will be among the first to say that modern medicine is wonderful. Without it, I would have been a cripple at age five and dead by age eleven. Thanks to modern medicine, my mother enjoyed an extra 30 years of life and both my elder brothers received several “bonus” years.

But.

Along with the amazing pharmacology and technology of this age’s healing arts comes the responsibility of making decisions. Hard decisions.

I had to make one of those today, and although I know it was necessary, the false guilt lies heavy upon me.

I am guardian of the person for my mother’s youngest brother, my Uncle Robert. I have held this position since 2001, or 23 years. Uncle Robert, who is now 90, was born with Fragile X Syndrome, a genetic disorder that causes developmental disability. Robert grew up a farm boy, loving both his cows and his tractors. Even though he is unable to read or do math, he could take one of those old Ford tractors apart and put it back together again, ready for another season of plowing and harvesting. He now lives in an ideal situation, a community based residential facility (CBRF) that is the family home of his nephews who also are developmentally disabled. There is a caring staff who come in every day to see that he is bathed, clothed, and fed and able to enjoy his favorite activity of driving his golf cart around the property. Although he does miss his cows.  

Robert’s health has been on the decline for the past decade or so, something not unexpected at his age. Two weeks ago my cousin Anne, who sees to Robert’s every day care, called to let me know he was having difficulty breathing. She took him in to his primary care physician and his medications were adjusted. This morning, he fell out of bed and was too weak to stand. He was transported to the nearest critical care hospital in Duluth, Minnesota. There, he was diagnosed with COVID and pneumonia. I have spent my day fielding phone calls from my cousin, Robert’s care workers, and the hospital doctors. I approved a treatment plan, but…

There’s always a but. Uncle Robert may bounce back from this latest health challenge. But he may not. So there were decisions to be made; decisions to not intubate him should his oxygen levels drop and not resuscitate should his heart stop. Decisions that I had to make. A decision to “play God.”

I’ve had to make that decision in the past, for my mother. The hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life was to sit with her for a week in hospice as her body gradually shut down. Sixteen years later I still wonder if I should have fought harder. Some day, I may have to make a similar decision for my younger brother, as I am also his guardian.

I don’t like playing God. For one thing, I am terrible at it. I don’t like the responsibility of holding another person’s life in my hands. That is the reason I never went into the field of nursing, although my mother kept pushing me in that direction.

And yet, ultimately, whether my Uncle pulls through or dies, the final decision is not in my hands. We all will die. And this situation is temporal, one limited to this time and space. Of one thing I am certain. Uncle Robert epitomizes the child-like faith Jesus commends. Though his time on earth may be coming to an end, his time in eternity never will.

So that’s what being responsible for another person’s earthly life is like. But what about being responsible for a person’s eternal life? There is a Scripture passage in the book of Ezekiel, chapter three that is one of the most frightening I’ve ever read. God tells the prophet that a person who is sinning will die for his sins. But if Ezekiel, if you, if I, know that person is sinning as do not warn the person of the consequences of that sin, God will hold us responsible for that person’s blood. If we do warn him and he repents, we will be credited with his salvation. If we warn him and he ignores us, he will suffer the consequences but God will not hold us responsible. Scary, isn’t it?

I am praying Uncle Robert recovers. I am praying that when his time comes God will take him gently without the need for the lifesaving apparatus that fills a hospital room. I am praying that my decisions for his medical care will not be a factor in his entrance into eternity. I do not want to play God. As I said, I am terrible at it.