CHAPTER 5
Meanwhile, back at the monastery as they say, Brother Benedict took a turn for the worse. The Veteran’s Administration Hospital in Wilkes Barre Pennsylvania had been providing excellent care for the ailing monk. Some VA hospitals, and such is the case with all hospitals, are better than others. Brother Benedict was only in his early seventies but it was beginning to look like he may have seen his last birthday.
He and his Abbot had discussed the possible chemotherapy and radiation treatments offered as standard of care in his case. He had already had major surgery. The Abbot tried to be objective as he let his monastic brother discuss the pros and cons of treatment.
Given his weakened condition, that sort of treatment will probably kill him, and make his life miserable in the process. I don’t want to influence his decision but he does need to discuss his options. I’ve done this hundreds of times with patients; I can do it for him too.
The older monk eventually decided to forgo further treatment, other than possible palliative care. The younger monk had long ago opted to avoid such conventional therapies, but knew that one never knows until he or she is actually in a life and death situation. Brother Francis’ years of working with cancer patients had given him a lot of experience upon which to base his choice.
The monk doctor had recently watched a DVD called “Healing Cancer” which contained a great deal of hard data offered by well credentialed professionals. A plant based diet was the way to go, for cancer and for most other illnesses also.
The VA hospital had admitted Brother Benedict and from there he was admitted to a nursing facility. Sister Jane de Chantal visited him in both places. The nursing facility was hard to find and not at all pleasant. She was working with the social service people there to arrange a transfer to a nursing facility closer to the monastery—one that she and the community had seen and liked.
The Abbot, the Prioress, and the monk in question all knew that some decisions might have to be made while the Abbot was away. All three were as comfortable as possible with the situation. Good communication within the community had helped greatly.
Brother Matthew, Sister Scholastica, and Clare had recently watched as Sister Jane de Chantal drove out of the driveway with Brother Benedict “riding shotgun,” as he would say. He was on his way to the VA hospital and the little community wondered if he would ever return. Clare reflected on recent events. Even though a major illness and possible death are hugely challenging, the members of the monastery were dealing with it very well. They had deep feelings, but a deep and practical spirituality also.
Now it looked like he would return to the area, but not to his monastic home, at least not for a while. The Prioress asked for the input of the community as steps were taken to provide the best possible care for their brother, but ultimately she was in charge. She kept them informed and thanked them for their prayerful support.
It was time to call the family. Brother Benedict had an unusual background for a monk. He had been in the military, married, and had a grown daughter. He was the youngest of a large brood of children and his only living sibling lived in the South. She was the oldest.
Sister Jane dialed the phone and connected with his sister. Faith was a very kind person and spent most of the conversation trying to assure Sister Jane that she was grateful for what the community was doing and that she would find a way to get to the monastery. She also volunteered to call Brother Benedict’s daughter.
“And I want my rocking chair at the new place. What’s it called, Pleasant Valley or something like that?”
“That’s right Brother Benedict. It’s called Pleasant Valley, just like the local school district, and we will have the rocker from your room there to welcome you.”
“That’s great Sister Scholastica. Great name, hope it lives up to it! I’m feeling a bit livelier today. Maybe I’m just motivated to get out of this old and dreary place and into the newer place closer to the monastery. Whatever the reason, I’m glad for it! Have you heard from the Abbot?”
“Not yet, Brother. He’s probably recovering from his three airplane rides. I’m sure that he will be in touch soon. I was going to call him about your situation but you asked me not to.”
“That’s right. You’re the boss, but I’d let him rest first. There’s not much he can do from Hawaii anyway and you’re doing a bang up job!”
“Well thanks. What a monastic thing to say.”
“You know what I mean Sister.”
“It’s my pleasure to help. Get some rest now and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. By the way, I spoke with your sister and she’s going to let your daughter know what’s happening. Maybe they’ll be by for a visit.” She tried to share this news in a light and casual way but wasn’t sure that she was puling it off.
“I hate to bother them but I suppose it had to be done,” he responded.
“They have not seen you in some time and are looking forward to a visit. Rest well now, Brother.”
“Bye.”
She let out a sigh of relief. The phone conversation had gone very well and Brother Benedict seemed somewhat improved. Hopefully he will stay that way, which will help his family members feel better in his presence.
Two men in dark heavy woolen coats drove into the monastery driveway. They appeared to know just where they were going. Sister Jane sighed once again, this time not in relief. She needed a little time to herself and wondered where Brother Francis got the energy to do all he does. It’s probably qigong. He’s good at it. I hope that his teaching schedule, the retreats and workshops he gives, won’t turn that healing and relaxing Chinese art into just another job for him.
The nun continued to look out of the little window in the kitchen area to the right of the sink. The unannounced visitors walked from their car, which was parked at the top of the driveway in front of a large outdoor cross of telephone poles, to the main monastery building at a right angle and to their left.
I hope it’s not those religious people again. They must get more points for converting a monastic she joked to herself. The last time the religious folks came by with literature, Sister Jane told them that she respected their good work and handed them some Salesian materials. That was six months ago. Guess I’d better find another copy of the “Golden Counsels of Saint Francis de Sales.”
She walked through the little foyer to the front door, which was really the back door because the first owner and builder of this house said the sun shines in the back and that this arrangement would help keep the steps from icing. It did help but there was still ice and snow to deal with in the winter time. Perhaps the best part of the front door being in the back was the privacy and, not facing the road, a little extra quiet.
The door bell was ringing as Sister Jane de Chantal opened the door.
The older of the two men gave her his name with a smile and did the talking. The nun thought the smile to be a little phony and mentally castigated herself for judging someone without having any real basis to form an opinion.
“Good afternoon Sister. We would like to see Leone Striker.”
“Who are you looking for gentlemen?”
“Her name is Leone Striker. I think you know her.”
The Prioress didn’t know who they were talking about at first; then she felt an old memory activate in the back of her tired mind. The name sounded familiar but the memory was coming from a far away place. Then the pieces started coming together.