Equanimity in the Face of Terminal Illness

by S. Adaviyappa

About ten years ago, my wife Parvathamma was diagnosed as having motor neuron disease, a rare condition which is considered incurable. Treatment by allopathic, homeopathic, ayurvedic and naturopathic doctors did not produce any results. She experienced a gradual wasting away of the muscles of her arms, thighs, legs and neck. She required assistance with even normal activities. Her helplessness caused her tension and strain, and she became gloomy and wept frequently.

It was a heart-rending situation for us. But everyone in the family took care that she was not put to any discomfort and that there was never any opportunity for her to feel neglected. All our efforts went toward keeping her spirits up. But she would still break down whenever a friend or relative called on her.

It was at this stage about four years into the illness, that my wife took a Vipassana course in Jaipur under the guidance of Goenkaji. She found the first day most trying. But with loving fellow meditators around her, she put up with the hardship with a smile. On Vipassana day, she was a changed person. She experienced the flow of subtle vibrations throughout the body. She was beaming with joy, and felt she had gained strength throughout her body. Her retreat proved a most beneficial sojourn.

For the following months, she practised her meditation regularly in spite of the limitations of her physical condition. I was away at Ajmer due to my official work, but I used to join her in meditation whenever I visited Jaipur. She was also helped by two tapes of Goenkaji's P±li chanting, and visits from other local meditators.

After the Vipassana retreat, her nature changed completely. Joy emanated from her. People who came to console her went back carrying peace. She never complained about her illness to anybody. Neither did she express regret about her miserable condition. She made frequent loving and compassionate enquiries about the welfare of the visitors and their family members, wishing them happiness and joy.

The illness progressed quickly. She developed a rapid deterioration of her muscles. Her face continued to beam with a radiant smile, although her body below the neck was a pitiful heap of bones and shrunken muscles. She continued her meditation throughout this period.

On the thirteenth of January, 1985, about thirty hours before her death, Parvathamma made a fervent wish to the family members to pardon her for any harsh words she might have spoken while they were attending her. She said she was very fortunate to have such a kind family. She was given a glucose drip and oxygen for three days, and underwent extreme pain. However, she retained full control of her faculties.

On the morning of the fifteenth, she was cheerful and took some milk. But at about 7:15 a.m. she had a bout of coughing, which she always dreaded. She felt suffocated and asked me to send for the doctor. The doctor arrived in fifteen minutes. Just as he was at the doorstep, her last breath went out along with a cough. In her last moment, she had a clear mind and passed away peacefully, casting compassionate glances on those of us standing around her.

We have learned from Goenkaji that our practice is also a preparation for dying. Our family's experience is a testimony to this. Through her equanimity in the midst of severe suffering, my wife was in control of her faculties even during the extreme pain of dying. This has been a great inspiration to all of us, and those of us who are meditators have applied Dhamma more seriously. By determined effort and regular practice we have been helped to weather the shock of the tragic loss of this loving soul. We are regularly sending mett± to her with wishes for her freedom from all suffering.