April 6, 2018 at 1:53 p.m.

Priests on front lines of dying


By PAUL QUIRINI- | Comments: 0 | Leave a comment

From the time he first was diagnosed with leukemia last December until his death in August, the concept of dying was very real to Jim.

During those eight months, Rev. David Mickiewicz, chaplain at Albany Medical Center Hospital, would visit the 45-year-old patient, bringing him communion and reading the Scriptures. Jim, meanwhile, spoke openly about the reality of death and wasn't afraid to discuss his own mortality.

"I think he knew from the very beginning that he wasn't going to live," Father Mickiewicz said. "From the get-go, he used all the 'dirty' words. He talked about the possibility of dying and death."

Jim's attitude toward death was one of acceptance, but each dying person's reaction toward dying is unique; fear, denial, regret and an eagerness to make a difference are just some of the thoughts and feelings conveyed by the dying.

At the deathbed

Priests who have spent years ministering to the dying spoke with The Evangelist about the ways in which such individuals face death, and how faith and spirituality play an important role in helping them die peacefully.

Rev. Richard Carlino, pastor of Our Lady of the Assumption Church in Schenectady, discussed two recent deaths in his ministry that touched him personally. Patrick Langley, an eight-year-old parishioner, lost his battle with cancer in October, shortly after Father Carlino gave him First Communion, the Sacrament of the Sick and Confirmation. Due to the severity of his illness, Patrick was unable to communicate, but Father Carlino sensed that his presence made the child's final hours easier to bear, both for him and his family.

"It was a privilege to be with his family through this," Father Carlino said. "It's one of the most meaningful things I do. There's a powerful sense of priesthood, ministry and spirituality."

Going in faith

The death of August DiDonna, deacon of St. Anthony of Padua Church in Schenectady, also affected Father Carlino significantly. From his days at the parish, Father Carlino had known Deacon DiDonna and learned that he was diagnosed with cancer.

Despite knowing that he had this disease, Deacon DiDonna didn't express any concern for his own well-being but instead worried about his family and how they would cope with his death.

"The fear never seemed to be there at all. I'm sure he had his moments, but he didn't show it to me, that's for sure," Father Carlino said. "That's a beautiful thing, that total otherness, that total selflessness."

Final moments

Father Carlino, who was with Deacon DiDonna when he died and spoke at his funeral, wasn't the only priest to visit him throughout his illness. Rev. John Medwid and Rev. Anthony De Franco, pastor and pastor emeritus, respectively, of St. Anthony's, also ministered to their ailing deacon.

Right up until his death, Deacon DiDonna insisted that he should have done more for his parish, which was ironic because he had done so much for St. Anthony's during his life, Father Carlino noted.

"Augie was the type of person that felt he didn't do enough for people, and yet everyone who knew him knew that that was quite the opposite," he said.

Coping with death

Through his hospice ministry during the past 12 years, Rev. R. Adam Forno has met hundreds of people facing death and leaving their family and friends behind. One man, in particular, sticks out in Father Forno's mind because of the denial in which he remained regarding his family and the bonds he shared with them.

Bill had been in Hospice for almost two years, Father Forno recalled. An elderly gentleman, Bill displayed a wonderful attitude around Father Forno: congenial, intelligent, aware. When his family was around, however, it was another story; Bill was gruff and abusive toward them.

Bill had a wife, a son and two daughters but never seemed to connect with any of them. They held birthday parties and candle rituals, and played music to lift his spirits, but such events couldn't alleviate the anger and resignation that Bill felt in his situation.

"He wasn't in denial about his death. He was in denial over the belief that he had this relationship with his family that he didn't have," Father Forno said.

Denial

Bill struggled with wishing that his family life could have been better but not knowing how he could have improved his relationships with them.

"He realized he could have done it differently, but he was unwilling to admit that," Father Forno said.

Denial may not be the best approach to one's mortality, but in Bill's case, his denial helped him to accept what was happening to him, and Father Forno didn't attempt to convince him otherwise.

"Sometimes, denial is a coping mechanism. You have to allow people to be resistant," he said.

BY ministering to Bill through Hospice, Father Forno hopes that his death was made more tranquil and less painful, in mind and body. "I think we gave him what he needed: spiritual support, physical presence," Father Forno said.

Dying in prison

Many of the patients to whom Rev. John Moyna ministers not only have a death sentence that gives them six months or less to live; they also have a life sentence that keeps them imprisoned. As part-time chaplain at the 60-bed, regional medical unit at Coxsackie Correctional Facility, Father Moyna meets inmates who either are recovering from medical problems and will be sent back to prison or who are terminally ill and will spend their final months in the unit.

During the two-and-a-half years since the regional medical unit opened, 82 inmates have died, and Father Moyna has noticed how much they embrace their faith as they come closer to death.

"As they come to grips with their illness, the faith dimension, the spiritual dimension becomes more important to them," he said.

Reunion

Once inmates are incarcerated, they often lose track of family and friends, who consequently may not know about an inmate's illness until it's serious. Such bad news can have a positive result, Father Moyna pointed out.

"In many cases, they reconnect with their families, and the families become an important part of the dying process," he said.

Occasionally, inmates want a chance to make a difference and do something good for society before they die. One inmate, for example, wanted to return home and speak to youth groups about the dangers of using drugs. He got his wish; lived for three-and-a-half months after he was released from prison; and with support from his family and his pastor, came to grips with his imminent death.

"He was at peace with it, at peace with God. It heightened his own spirituality and relationship with the Lord," Father Moyna said.

Better place

The uniqueness of an inmate's background doesn't mean their reaction to death is any different from the average person's, Father Moyna noted.

He has observed, however, that inmates generally have a sense that they're going to a better place when they die, a notion that makes death seem less frightening.

"As they open up and talk to you a little bit, they give you a little glimpse of how they're looking at death and life, the fullness of life. The person who's dying has a certain vision of life after, and they can share it with you," he said.

Final days

Father Mickiewicz, chaplain at Albany Medical Center Hospital, found his experience with Jim, the 45-year-old leukemia patient who died in August, quite moving because of the way in which his spirituality became such a priority during his final months.

"I've never come across anyone who was so moved at receiving Communion and the sacraments. He was encountering Jesus," Father Mickiewicz said.

On one occasion, Jim wanted to receive the Eucharist, but Father Mickiewicz wasn't sure what scriptural passage he should read to accompany the sacrament. He selected the institution narrative from the Last Supper and "from the look on his face, it was the right words at the right time," he said.

Father Mickiewicz also gave Jim a book written by Cardinal Joseph Bernardin titled, "Gift of Peace." Jim followed the advice in the book by placing his hope in someone, Jesus Christ, rather than something, such as treatment, as he was dying.

Letting go

Jim lived a fulfilling life, but his biggest regret was that he would be leaving his wife, to whom he'd been married for only 10 years. There were times when Father Mickiewicz was in the room when Jim and his wife were speaking as though they were in private, but they didn't seem to mind his presence.

"They obviously felt comfortable enough to say those things in front of me," he said.

Although Father Mickiewicz felt guilty when Jim would ask what he did on his days off, Jim actually was glad that the priest had been to New York City, Boston, an art gallery or a concert.

"He was sincerely interested in where I went, what I was doing and what I saw. That blew my mind," Father Mickiewicz said.

Talking

Knowing Jim gave Father Mickiewicz an opportunity to interact with someone who had accepted the fact that he was dying and whose family was comfortable with that reality. He wishes more families could cope with death and not avoid the topic when it must be addressed.

"Sadly, I don't always get a chance to deal with the dying person. I do believe, from my experience, that dying people know that they're dying. Families don't want to talk about that," he said. "Making funeral arrangements, living wills and health proxies is all nice, but that's still not talking about the possibility of dying, of mortality."

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