THE BEAUTY OF SEXUALITY EVEN UNTIL DEATH

Conventional wisdom tells us that sex is the farthest thing from our minds as we prepare to exit this life.  That is not necessarily so.  Just ask nurses who have tended to elderly men!                                                                                                                   

In hospice care, as volunteers we learned not to be surprised at what patients told us in confidence.  Mac helped me to understand that sexuality and spirituality are both gifts from our Creator.  Mac had that awareness, yet he was dying!  Mac was a profound teacher, though he didn't know it.  He had worked for years mining asbestos, and had been somewhat unaware of its hazards.  Now he was a patient in the palliative care service at a large hospital.  Even with oxygen, it was a continuous effort for him to breathe and he was tired of the struggle.  But Mac was a storyteller.  He told me about his life in a picturesque village after he had retired from mining.  We discussed our thoughts on this life and the possibility of life in the hereafter and we developed a mutually warm friendship.  He spoke only briefly of his wife who was then confined in a nursing home. I asked no questions about her, for in hospice care we learned to recognize and honor sensitive areas.  His only child was a daughter who lived in New York and he spoke very warmly of her.                                                                                               

Death, Mac knew, was imminent and he had no misgivings about it.  Over the weeks he told about the events that had given meaning to his life and the philosophical reasons he could find for the likelihood of life continuing in some way after death.   The last time that I was with him, he said that he was even curious about what he might discover “over there,” beyond this physical life.   Then he told me about something that was very personal.  It was with care and thoughtfulness that he spoke.   

Mac had been in the army during WW2 and was about to be shipped overseas.  He was like many other young men who were about to be sent off to war.  He had really wanted to know what a sexual experience would be like and he didn’t want to die without having had sex at least once.  He told me about a girl that he had met, and how they were intimate before he embarked for Europe.  He had little further contact with her, but he had remembered this event all his life.  Now, he wondered, “Why am I telling you this at this time?”

I thought for a moment, “Mac, I suppose that it is because ‘the first time’ is a very profound experience.”  That was all he wanted me to know, so there was no further discussion.  He just wanted me to understand that this was a significant part of his memory bank.  I had made plans for a trip, and I knew very well that he might not be there when I returned. So, in bidding him goodbye I said “Mac, my friend, if you’re not here when I get back, I’ll see you later.” He nodded.                                        

When I returned ten days later, Mac wasn’t there.  He was such a fascinating character. It would be wonderful if we should meet again.  There had never been any discussion between us of any of the tenets of conventional religion, for we had no need to examine them.  But we had talked about our common values and the meaning of life.  The most profound lesson that I learned from Mac is that we are endowed with both a spiritual and sexual identity.  As long as we have breath, it is good for us to recognize and value both as gifts.                                                 

Marta was also a patient in hospice care, and she too had something to teach me. The last few hours that I was with her revealed to me how much, as humans, we need each other, even till the end of life. With Marta the experience was more mystical!   Marta was wasting away with cancer.  She was about sixty and, even though she was now critically ill, she was very much a lady and had always been aware of her femininity.  That sexual awareness is a part of what makes each of us interesting.  I had stopped to chat with her regularly, but we had never gotten into any deep discussions.  I had noted that a man had been to see her, on occasion, but I had never met him.  One day, at the end of my volunteer rounds, I stopped in to see her.  She was semi-comatose and appeared to be near death. 

I sat by Marta’s bed, held her hand and called her name. Then she reached up and touched my face and called out, “Jim, Jim.”  I asked the nurse if it was her husband that she was calling for, and I was told that she had no husband.  I continued to sit beside her and I held her hand against my face so she could feel the stubble of my beard.  She continued to whisper “Jim, Jim” and I responded over and over “It’s all right Marta, I’m here.” I had such a strong sense that I was there for her, in lieu of her lover.   By her feeling the stubble of a man’s face and hearing the sound of a man’s voice, even at the last, that was a comfort to her. Then her hand relaxed.  Her pulse and breathing became more irregular.  It was getting late.  I needed to leave.  The nurse told me to go home and she would stay.  Marta died soon thereafter.                

Before my being with Mac and Marta, I had unthinkingly subscribed to the commonly held perception that sexuality vanished with illness and certainly with the approach of death.  Because I had learned to be open and aware, these two dear souls taught me something that came, not from our familiar cultural mores, but from their innermost selves. Such memories will always be there for me.  What a wonder is the human spirit! 

HomePage         LJ.'s Essay        About the Kennys      Related Links     Archives