I performed an emergency operation to remove the damaged length of colon and give her a colostomy. A lot of it seemed to be about extending Coxs life.
Even if the antibiotics halted the infection, he said, he wanted them to remember that there was nothing that would stop the cancer. But how can we love someone if we don't like him? Technology sustains our organs until we are well past the point of awareness and coherence. The family gathered at her bedside, hoping for the antibiotics to work. She wanted to spend her final moments peacefully at home. But she went through her list.
Creed took Coxs arm gently as we walked to the kitchen to sit down, asking her how she had been doing. And let my poem stand clear as a windowpane / bumped by a bumblebees head. Those are my expectations. This requires as much listening as talking. This is the moment in Saras story that poses a fundamental question for everyone living in the era of modern medicine: What do we want Sara and her doctors to do now? This second, unrelated cancer was in fact operable. That is the ultimate reality. Its likely he wrote the poemBitter-Sweet, its calledbetween the ages of 37 and 40, when he had just swerved from a disappointing political career into parish ministry, was newly and very happily married, and obviously dying of tuberculosis.
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