Mortality and Loss of Control
Continuing our exploration of mortality, another major fear surrounding the end of life is the loss of control. Modern society is built on the concept of control. We are all masters of our own destiny. Personal autonomy reigns supreme. Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do…I’ll do it MY way! All these ideas that we hold so sacred are really attempts to maintain control. But life is not a controlled experiment. There are too many variables, known and especially unknown, that affect every second of every day. Our lack of ability to control every aspect of life is no more apparent than when we face death, particularly in cases of progressive physical or mental debility. We must often rely on others to help us make decisions, or even make decisions for us. We may need increasing amounts of physical care, including the most basic and personal moments of self-care like dressing, feeding, and toileting. This experience can be quite humbling. Much of the support for euthanasia likely stems from the desire to avoid this loss of control, and to “not be a burden on my loved ones.”
Can we think about loss of control at the end of life in another, more constructive way? I think so. Firstly, in many situations, the loss of control is not total, but rather only less than one is accustomed to. With some element of control remaining, meaningful choices can still be made. In other words, control the moments that we have left. How do we spend our time? Who do we spend it with? Do we think thoughts of anger and frustration at our losses, and regret our past? Or do we feel gratitude for the loved ones in our life, and fondly recollect the blessings we have experienced?
Secondly, there can be something to learn with loss of control. It is so hard during normal states of life to willfully choose to give up control, and perhaps the state of illness or impending mortality is a “last chance” to learn the lessons of loss of control. Virtues like patience, fortitude, humility, and gratitude may be fully appreciated only when one has less to worry about because the scope of their life has been greatly limited. In the Judeo-Christian tradition, the greatest adventures with the biggest consequences for the history of humanity came from relinquishing control. Think of Abraham’s acceptance of God’s call to “Go from your country…to the land that I will show you (Genesis 12:1).” Or Mary’s answer “Be it done to me according to thy word (Luke 1:38)” to the angel Gabriel’s request about the conception of Jesus. Or the Apostles’ response to Jesus’ request to “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men (Matthew 4:19).” Or even Jesus’ cry to God in the Garden of Gethsemane, “Not my will, but yours, be done (Luke 22:42).“ All the saints and holy people down through the ages have done their best to “lose control” to a purpose greater than their own individual wills.
Thirdly, your loss of control is not only about you. As strange as that may sound, being cared for by another person may feel like a loss to you, but perhaps it is a gain for the person doing the caring. Having to care for an ill spouse or friend gives the caregiver an intimate experience of offering their time and energy and love that cannot be experienced in any other setting. Remember the old adage that it is better to give than to receive? The graces that flow from caring and being cared for go in both directions. The same virtues of patience, fortitude, humility, and gratitude can be invaluable lessons for the caregiver as well. This is not to say that one would choose incapacity for oneself or a loved one, but when such circumstances arise (as they so often do in life), we can see them in a different light that can reveal a peace and comfort. Even for those of us not yet dealing with a major illness as a patient or caregiver, these lessons have value. We can learn to give up a little control, maybe letting someone help us in their own way rather than our way. Maybe seeking to better understand and accept that the control that we think we have is really more a figment of our imagination than a reality. Maybe the point is to discern a clearer vision of God’s will for us, rather than our own.
