A man is willing to die (why?), his family seems to have no objections (how come?), there is an institution assisting this family (how come?), it is being recorded and broadcast (what?!).

The controversial documentary stirred up a reaction in some religious circles and pro-life charities, as viewers discussed the ethics of broadcasting euthanasia in the days following this program. But what is so chilly about this video is not whether a network should broadcast it, but a man’s willingness to end his own life. If life had any meaning for this person, he would not be willing to cause his own death. If he meant anything to his family, they would never allow him to do it. This story is so desperate, so heartbreaking, that it leaves us without words.

Mary Lahaj of Boston shares with us a story in this issue that would counterbalance the hopelessness and dispel the dark clouds the above-mentioned documentary caused. “At God’s Door” is the story of a woman who was able to stand up on her own feet after a traumatic youth. Hers is a source of inspiration for many of us who have failed, or feel on the edge of a cliff at times, to rise up in belief for a new life.

Professor Anwar Alam from India reviews a book on a global movement of education and dialogue: The Gulen Movement, Civic Service Without Borders is one of a handful of must-read books that authoritatively deals with this social phenomenon—called the Hizmet movement—affiliated with successful schools, dialogue activities, and relief organizations around the world.

An interview with Paul Davies lays down some of the “Great Questions of Existence” and shares with us how science can contribute to our making sense of them.

The Lead Article expounds on the rights of God and human rights, and how they are related. “Life” is one such right, and the Giver of Life certainly has something to say about this.

A conversation I had with my mother last November still haunts my dreams. My mom had been sick for several weeks with an unbearable headache, double vision, and facial numbness. Unsure of what could cause such symptoms, I turned to the 24 hour a day, 7 day a week on-call electronic doctor, “google.com,” typed in as key words “headache double vision” and started scanning the search results. My heart grew heavy and my lips trembled as I stared into the computer screen.

“So, what does it say?” my mom asked, a bit worried. I was unsure of whether I should tell her the truth. I didn’t want to scare her, but then again my mom was one of those strong types who wouldn’t go to a doctor unless it was absolutely necessary-by necessary I mean life or death.

I decided to tell her. “Well, almost every website says brain tumor. You should go to a neurologist.” But my mom was still hesitant, reluctant about enduring extensive medical testing. I thought I’d use bluntness to jolt her into action and I said,

“Dude, you’ve got to go to the doctor. This could be life threatening. What are you going to do, just roll over and die?!”

My nonchalant nature was merely a thin veil covering the deep horror which overtook me. “Death” is not something we easily associate with a loved one as dear as our mother. I could hear a disapproving voice whisper inside me, “How dare you?” chastised my ghost. “You can’t think your mom might die!” I shuddered, shaking my head to make the disturbing thought go away.

My amnesia was only temporary.

My mom did go to a neurologist, but aside from some minor hormone imbalances, the doctor could find nothing significantly wrong in her brain. So, my mom decided to go back to her usual residence in California, home to some of the best medical research hospitals in the nation, for a second opinion.

I will never forget our parting in the Atlanta airport. She was clearly in pain, slowly limping, hunched forward, head tilted downwards, and breathing heavily as even walking took great effort. “There is physically no way I can stand waiting in this line,” she muttered, referring to the security check line. She asked one of the officials if they could take her up front since she was sick, but the man just shook his head and pointed to the end of the line at the far end of the corridor.

I guess there was nothing in the rule books that taught people about mercy, so my mom took matters into her own hands, and just cut to the front, passing the first official without presenting her boarding pass and ID. The official called after her, “Ma’am, ID please?” My mom presented the required documents and then scuttled towards the baggage control, again cutting towards the front. In just a few minutes she was out of sight.

I watched helplessly. It took so much concentration to just think about how to get through security that she not only failed to initially notice the ID checker, but even failed to hug me or even look back and wave good bye. In thirty years we had not once parted without a good embrace. As I saw her place her bags on the conveyor belt and walk through the metal detector, tears began to trickle down my cheeks, blossoming into a full-blown cry.

What if this was the last time I would ever see her?! What if I had just missed my last chance to hold her close, feel her warmth, and breathe in her sweet aroma?

Again, I tried to suppress the unbearable and could hear my ghost talking. “The doctor said the MRI was basically normal. It’s probably something minor, easily fixable. She’d go see a doctor in California, they’d prescribe her a few pills, and all would be well again. She’d come back to Atlanta, take her year-old grandson to the park and push him in the swings while he laughed with delight.” I smiled as I imagined my son pop a large grape into my mom’s mouth.

That evening, my mom called me to apologize for having forgotten to hug me before she left. Her loving voice wiped out any lingering doubts I might have had. “Yep,” I told myself, “Life will be great again.”

It wasn’t.

My mom and I were extremely close; we were soul mates. We’d talk on the phone with each other at least once a day-until that fateful day when she didn’t call or return my messages. I knew something was wrong. I called the police, and after several hours of fruitless searching, they finally decided to enter her home. They found her passed out on her bed, alive, but unable to talk. She was immediately taken to Stanford Hospital’s Emergency Room.

A doctor called with the bad news, “She’s had a brain seizure, her right side is paralyzed, and she can’t talk or follow commands. Do you authorize us to intervene to save her life if her condition changes?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t image my mom crippled or on death’s door. I couldn’t imagine a world without her. I begged the doctor to keep her alive until I could get there.

Over the next few days the doctors performed numerous tests before finally coming to a conclusive diagnosis that she had a rare type of cancerous brain tumor. With an operation and chemotherapy her life could be extended for up to a year. But even in the best case, she’d probably remain at least partially paralyzed, and unable to talk or comprehend language.

I knew then that my mom was going to die. This time there were no more ghosts trying to convince me otherwise. “How could I have missed the seriousness of her situation?” I asked myself, ashamed. “She even told to you over the phone, in her soft, feeble voice, ‘I am dying,’ yet you kept closing your eyes to all the signs!” went my mental chiding.

How many Signs in the heavens and the earth do they pass by? Yet they turn (their faces) away from them!

My mother lay silent as the ventilator continued to periodically beep in harmony with each steady, rhythmic breath. She had been taken off all drugs for two days now, but still had not woken up. Many of the nurses thought it unlikely at this point that she’d ever open her eyes again.

Meanwhile, the doctors needed a decision. “It’s up to you, you know her better than anyone. Would she have wanted the operation?” asked the head of the intensive care unit. “She can’t speak for herself, so you must speak on her behalf,” he prodded.

I knew what my mom wanted. She had already told me in answer to my question, “What will you do, just roll over and die?”

“Yes,” she had said. “Death is not a bad thing; it’s nothing to be feared. Everyone dies some day. Death means finally being in peace, free from the evil of this world. If I had my choice I’d pass away in my sleep. And I wouldn’t want to live as a vegetable, either. That would be torture. I wouldn’t want to be a burden to myself or my family.”

Still, I desperately wanted her to wake up just one last time. I had to make sure she knew I was there by her side, that she wasn’t alone. I tried everything in my power to wake her up, including singing her favorite songs-something I’d never done before.

It was of no use. Finally, we decided to tell the doctors to move her into comfort care the next morning since we’d decided against an operation. That evening during dinner, however, my husband was suddenly overcome with this inexplicable “feeling” that we should wait one more day. It didn’t make sense, but maybe its providence, I thought. So we waited one more day.

The next morning, I was shocked to walk into her room to find her eyes open and her left hand grabbing at her blanket. Her eyes followed me as I rushed towards her bedside, kissing her hand with joy. “She woke up! She woke up! Can I bring my son in to see her? I want to make sure she sees her grandson one last time,” I asked the nurse.

When my husband and son arrived about twenty minutes later we held him up so that my mom could see him. Just then, my mom began to cough loudly, gasping, and squishing her face together as though in pain. The ventilator began to beep in response to the quick breaths.

“Look, it’s like she’s crying,” said my husband.

“Oh no,” smiled the nurse. “This is normal, sometimes the discomfort of the tube in the mouth can cause some coughing. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were happening for a reason. I had often chalked up happy occurrences to good fortune, never once questioning whether it was truly accidental. But this string of missed opportunities and unexplainable feelings surely couldn’t be pure happenstance. Events were unfolding in such a way as to ease the pain of my mom’s passing. I began to wonder if anything in life was coincidental.

On the earth there are signs for those whose faith is sure; and in your own souls too. Will you not then see?

No, the coughing could mean only one thing; my mom had recognized her grandson!

The next day, she was moved into comfort care so that we could be with her all the time. Slowly, she began to show signs that the end was near. First, her right eye stopped responding, next her oxygen levels dropped, later her right cheek became hot and red. I got this feeling that she might not make it through the night, so we left our son with some family friends and spent the night in the hospital. Despite our best efforts to stay awake, eventually both of us succumbed to sleep.

Interestingly, towards the morning, my husband saw a dream in which someone was about to die, causing him to suddenly awaken. The room was quiet; my mom’s snoring had ceased. Afraid that she may have passed already, he rushed to her, relieved that she was still breathing lightly. He then ran to get me and a nurse.

I watched her chest softly rise and fall. My husband began praying, while I held her hand, not knowing what else to do, nor when that fateful instant would come. I was in shock that my mother was dying right in front of me. But, I knew I had to let go.

The gaps between each breath grew longer and longer, until finally her chest fell and rose no more. I glanced at the clock on the wall, 4:55 am. She passed away just five minutes after I came by her side. If it weren’t for my husband’s dream, we would have missed her.

I am thankful that I was there at her side in her last moments with us. Not everyone is blessed with the ability to be there right until the last moment. My mom had been with me every step of the way, since the very first breath I took; and I was there with her until the very last of hers.

Still, her passing turned my whole world topsy turvy. I felt like a stranger lost in a foreign land with no way of getting back home. The irreversibility of it all really hit me during the burial. At the end, we all end up under a pile of dirt, shrouded in five feet of white cloth. As the grave digger shoveled dirt over her body, my teeth began to clatter uncontrollably, and I shivered as though I’d been locked in a meat freezer. My husband held me tight, trying to stop my shaking. But it was of no avail; I was inconsolable.

Just then I saw the cemetery staff plant three rose bushes on top of the freshly closed grave. My aunt pointed to the bushes, “Years ago we had planted a rose bush on the grave. As they dug it up, however, it split into three roses!” Three roses for the three women buried below: my grandmother, my eldest aunt, and my mother.

I stopped trembling and smiled through my tears. I think I’m getting better at reading the signs now.

Sevgi Zubeyde Gurbuz completed her PhD in Electrical Engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology in December 2009 and currently works and resides in Ankara, Turkey.

Notes

1. Quran 15:75

2. Quran 12:105 3. Quran 51:20-21 

A wanted child brings happiness to a family; it is a gift from God. And, of course, every woman who wants to give birth wants to bring up a healthy and beautiful child. Unfortunately, the health index of the modern generation of women at child-bearing age is not very high (there are many chronic diseases, spiritual poverty, with a high vulnerability to different infections due to a variety of reasons). Due to this reason, medical interference in what is a natural process has become more frequent recently. Statistics show that more than 92% of women use different drugs at different stages of pregnancy. The question is to what extent this medication is safe for the future baby. This is a fundamentally important matter to investigate because a pregnant woman taking any chemicals is in essence applying a kind of experiment on her as well as the baby’s health which can have a variety of different consequences.

The problem of medical effects on the development of a fetus has recently become very acute. This is because there are many different medications that are common and easily available nowadays, and they are very often taken without a doctor’s prescription. Unfortunately, the consequences of this fact are not pleasant. Prenatal development is one of the most important and difficult stages in a person’s life. Just in 9 months an ovicell (an egg cell) and a sperm cell form an extremely complex living organism that consists of millions and billions of cells! Moreover, all these cells are combined into tissues, organs and systems that are always interacting. The fetus has a fascinating rate of growth to become a structure with an ever-increasing complexity. In addition, all these processes do not happen chaotically but in a strict order. This order is supplied by two factors: the first is a sound genetic program. It is obtained by the fetus from its parents and the decoding of the genome vividly denotes the existence of Divine Power. The second factor is the state of a maternal organism which supplies everything necessary for the realization of the genetic program and protects the fetus from the negative influence of the environment. In this way the failure of one of the mentioned factors can lead to different deviations and to the disturbance of the development, including the formation of congenital malformations of the fetus and even prenatal death.

The history of medicine shows that medications can be the most harmful etiological factor in relation to the fetus. Today, there are many examples proving this fact. One of the best-known is the thalidomide tragedy which happened in Europe in the 1950-60s. As a result of taking a poorly studied medicine (a light tranquilizer) the children of hundreds (!) of women were born with serious physical defects. Unfortunately, the list of drugs that causes fetal malformation is not short. Nowadays doctors are aware of syndromes caused by hydantoin, warfarin, aminopterin, and many other medications. Each of these has a specific effect on the fetus (mostly leading to serious abnormalities) when taken by a pregnant woman. In the past, people believed that such children were marked by Satan. But nowadays we say that it is the unpredictable effect of the medicine on the realization of the Creator’s program. Medical interference can lead to a disruption in the rate of development and affect the order of differentiation in the tissues and organs of fetus. Moreover, drugs can interrupt the blood circulation in the placenta, change the metabolic process between the fetus and the mother, causing a retardation of intrauterine growth or premature labor, or they can be the reason for a falloff in the health of the child in the first years of life.

The influence of drugs on the fetus depends on different factors, such as the term of gestation at which the drug is administered, the dosage, and the length of time that the medicine is taken, as well as the ways that the drug is excreted, the health of the mother and her inherited sensitivity to medicine, and, of course, the properties of the medicine itself. There are many drugs whose influence on the fetus have not yet been examined, as such research is very difficult, expensive, or in many cases simply impossible. If we understand this, we can see that the outlook for scientific interference in God’s creation of human beings is not good.

You may wonder why the wide-spread usage of medication by pregnant women throughout the whole world has not lead to a continuous increase in congenital malformations if it is really this dangerous. Thanks to a happy concourse of circumstances, this process has not become too wide-spread, as there are many factors that allow the fetus to “escape” medical danger. For example, there may be an inherited insensitivity on the part of the fetus to the influence of different medications, the placenta has its own inherent protective function, the medication may be taken in a small dosage, the developmental stage of the fetus may be at a “non-critical” period, plus many other factors. Doubtless, although this has not been proven, is the fact that the mother has a sincere faith in God and believes in God’s protection of her and her child, which has a positive influence on the development of the fetus.

The initial clustering of embryonic cells and the formation of all the fetus’ organs and systems occur in the first trimester of pregnancy. It is particularly in this period that the fetus is very sensitive to the influence of different factors, including different drugs.

It is quite common that the results of the use of some teratogens¹ by pregnant women, which can have fatal effects, can simply go unnoticed in some cases, resulting in the death of the fetus during the first two weeks of development. In this case, the woman does not even know that she is pregnant. Such cases are not rare (according to some researchers, up to 70% of all pregnancies finish in the early death of the fetus).

What should a pregnant woman do if she is ill or feeling unwell? How can she effectively help herself and minimize the risk of any medications on her baby at the same time? It is never a good idea to self-medicate if you are pregnant, particularly in the case of little-known or untested medications. In any case, it is better to consult an experienced doctor or pharmacist. If for some reason this is impossible, please read the prospectus which is to be found with the medicine carefully. Which dangers the medicine can cause are probably mentioned on the prospectus, and it may be written that the drug should not be used if pregnant. If a drug has been used while being unaware of pregnancy (for example, during the first 2 weeks) then immediately consult a specialist about any possible negative effects there might be for the fetus as soon as you found out that your are pregnant. Going to see your doctor early will allow you the necessary time to avoid any dangers and allow you to arrive at a decision about this pregnancy. If the medicine has been prescribed by a doctor then be sure to ask about possible unwanted side effects for the fetus. Don’t hesitate to ask such questions. If it seems to you that your doctor’s attitude to this question is not serious enough (unfortunately, this happens quite often) then consult a competent specialist (a geneticist or a clinical pharmacist).

If you are just planning your pregnancy, then try to predict all the negative factors beforehand. If you have some chronic diseases which may become acute during the pregnancy, or if you have an allergic predisposition or high sensitivity to acute respiratory diseases, then you should consult a doctor. Preventive methods which have been worked out especially for you minimize the risk of the illness and the risk of using drugs that are potentially harmful to the fetus.

During early stages of ontogenesis the fetus has almost no adaptation mechanisms or specific reactions in its response to the influence of pathogenic agents. Only with time will the fetus’ main organs and systems become mature and the functions of the placenta fully form the morphological and functional backgrounds of the response characteristics peculiar to a new-born baby. We usually say that everything happens according to God’s Will but He has created us for a full, vivid, and creative life. And He wants us to understand and be attentive to the miracle that happens during pregnancy.

Note

1. Agents such as drugs, chemicals and infections that can cause birth defects when a mother is exposed to them during pregnancy.

I could hear the voices of children crying in the ward at the other end of the corridor. My own poor child could only say ‘mum’ in fear while he was being examined. A little later, he fell asleep. After the examination the specialist took me aside. He had a look of deep concern and sorrow on his face:

-‘I am very sorry, doctor. It could be polio,’ he said.

I stared at him blankly, not believing what I was hearing. I could believe that some other mother’s child caught polio but I could never imagine that such a disaster would touch my own child. I no longer felt like a doctor but like a mother, waiting at her child’s bedside in an agony of anxiety.

-‘But he has not caught polio yet, has he?’ I asked again.

-‘No, not yet. I hope he will not’, the specialist answered. When he looked at my face, he noticed my worry and went on:

-‘He is sleeping now. You’d better go and get some sleep, too. I’ll call you if there is any change.’

I decided to do as I was advised. It was already very late, past midnight. I had been very busy since five o’clock in the morning, along with the other doctors. Everyone had been working very hard as the epidemic had got worse. I looked at my son’s red lace, longing to help him, to take away his pain, but there was nothing I could do except wait. I wanted to take him in my arms and surround him with all my love. But that was not possible then, so after a time I left his bedside and headed home.

The house was still and quiet when I opened the door. My husband had gone to Chicago on business. I did not tell him about our son’s condition. I did not want him to panic. Besides, if there was no change in his condition overnight, chances of his not getting polio would be very high.

I had to take some pills to help me sleep. I was deep in sleep when I heard the phone ringing. I got out of bed. It was four o’clock. The person on the phone was a woman, obviously very agitated and anxious.

-‘Is that the doctor?’ she asked.

I heaved a sigh of relief as I understood that I was being called out to visit a patient. As the woman described her son’s condition, I realized that it was probably another case of polio. After taking a note of her name and address. I couldn’t help taking a minute to phone the hospital to find out about my son: luckily, there was no change.

I felt utterly alone as I drove through the streets of the silent, sleeping city to the woman’s home. After some time, I noticed that this was the poorest part of town. On reaching the address, I stopped the car and got out. The desperate woman had been waiting and ran out to me, holding a candle. She grabbed my hand and said urgently, almost shouting:

-‘Be quick doctor! Be quick!’

I looked at her face, which was wet with crying. I couldn’t tell in the dark if the woman was young or old. I was quite shocked when I stepped into the cold one-room house. Even though I saw lots of different kinds of patients in my job, I had not seen poverty such as this before. Three thin children with pale, bony faces were sitting around an empty table in the corner of the room dimly lit by the one candle the mother was holding. The rest of the room was quite dark. However, I could just make out a child doubled up in pain at the other end of the room, moaning under a very old, patched blanket. The boy was about five years old, very thin and very weak. I told the woman I must go out to call the hospital. I did so from a telephone box in the market near the house and asked them to send an ambulance at once.

I went back and examined the other children. They were very weak but not in danger of polio. Just then the sick boy started to cry. The mother held my hand pleadingly. She wanted to learn what the illness was and how serious it was. I did not have the courage to tell her the truth.

-‘Your child is very ill, but we will do whatever we can,’ I said.

After lovingly caressing her son’s hair, the woman turned to me and said:

-‘Let’s pray’.

Although I had been visiting patients for years, I had never met one who offered to pray. I felt this woman must know something that I did not, so I agreed. I joined the children and the mother in their prayer. As the woman prayed, her mild soft voice pleading so sincerely touched me to the heart.

For a moment the hospital corridor came to mind again, the worried face of the specialist, my own dear son’s lovely face. Though far from the hospital, I felt just as if I was at my son’s bedside. I saw him as if standing in front of me and smiling. I tried to clear my mind of this picture. I watched the woman and the children still praying, now silently. The sincerity of their faith moved me so much that I could not help saying out loud and with utmost sincerity:

-‘Our Lord, do please accept these prayers!’

The mother then went over to the bedside of her sick child. The boy was sleeping peacefully. She straight away turned towards me and said joyfully:

-‘Do you see? Allah, the Most Merciful and Compassionate, has accepted our prayer.’

I was totally lost for words. The boy did not even wake up while being carried to the ambulance. By the time we got to the hospital, his breathing and pulse had returned to normal. I drove back to the woman’s home with the good news and, before leaving again for my day’s work at hospital, I gave her what money I had.

-‘I’ll call back again tomorrow evening,’ I said.

As I walked to my car, I looked up at the sky. The sun was rising and everything was becoming lit up. I was not worried this time as I drove to the hospital. A voice inside me was saying that my son would meet me smiling when I next saw him.