It came as a shock last week. My heart went into V-tach, a dangerous ventricular arrythmia that can be fatal. The 911 first responders and emergency room (ER) doctors had to use defibrillators to shock my heart back into a normal beating rhythm. My wife probably saved my life by noticing that something was wrong and that I was not asleep but rather unconscious in bed, and she called for emergency help.

Because of the COVID-19 pandemic restrictions, she was not allowed to accompany me to the hospital. But she was permitted into the emergency room waiting area, and doctors told her my situation was critical. The medical team could not figure out why my heart had two V-tach-induced cardiac arrests, one at home and one in the ER. The best explanation so far is a genetic condition called Brugada syndrome that can be a silent killer. With the insertion of an implanted cardiac defibrillator (ICD) device, the chances of a future critical V-tach incident have now become vanishingly small.

I am very grateful for the advances in modern medicine that transformed what could have been a death sentence only a few decades ago into a highly manageable health issue. The technology, including a ventilator for a few hours, carried me through. None of that would have mattered, however, if my dear wife had not seen the problem and done exactly the right thing in a crisis. I went through an MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) scan of my heart to confirm that my cardiac function had returned to normal. It was unpleasant to be crammed into that MRI tube for an hour and told to hold my breath for long periods. The small ICD device was inserted in my chest without general anesthesia in day surgery, and it has a battery that should last up to 16 years. My main life limitation now is a prohibition on playing full contact sports like rugby or tackle football.

More fundamentally, however, I suffered a near catastrophic failure in spiritual care. My religious liberty rights as a Catholic were gravely violated. I was not able to see a priest during my four-day stay at the hospital, even though I tested negative for COVID-19 and my wife and I asked repeatedly for the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick. The ambulance took me directly to the closest hospital to my house. It is not a Catholic health care ministry. When my wife heard I was in critical condition, already in the ER, she asked for a priest. They did call a Catholic chaplain who came quickly, but she was a lay person. It was good for my wife to speak to her and to pray together, but this chaplain could not administer the last rites to me.

I improved so rapidly that, the next day, I was extubated and taken off the ventilator, and the intra-aortic balloon pump was pulled out of my femoral artery. I had the pleasant visit of another lay Catholic chaplain that day. He gave me a card with a prayer for Spiritual Communion on it and we prayed together. He could not confess or anoint me, of course, and did not have Holy Communion with him. I later received a phone call, but not a physical visit, from a priest associated with the hospital. Finally, the lay Catholic chaplain who had come to the ER paid me a final visit before I was discharged, and she prayed with me. Clearly, significant pastoral efforts were made for me, but hospital pandemic precaution policies made it impossible for me to receive what I needed most, the sacraments.

Our parish priest was willing to go to the hospital, but he told my wife that he had been refused admittance under their current highly restrictive policy on access to the hospital. My wife was not allowed visiting privileges either, although she was told that if I took a turn for the worse and was dying she would be allowed in to see me. I emailed Philadelphia’s Archbishop Emeritus Charles Chaput, OFM Cap, and he responded in minutes. He would have come personally if allowed, but he was also blocked from doing so. Archbishop Chaput also delegated a priest to look into the matter further, but I was discharged from the hospital before a priest’s visit could be arranged for me. It was quick and simple for me to get the Sacraments of Reconciliation and Anointing of the Sick once I was discharged and out of the hospital.

I do not think some thoroughly secular people grasp the magnitude of the offense of denying a gravely ill or even dying person the last rites of the Church. The Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, including Holy Viaticum, can literally make the difference between an eternal destiny in heaven or one in hell. If that Catholic belief is not respected, we enter the realm of religious persecution and grave violations of civil rights and religious liberty rights. It is unreasonable/unconscionable to have a blanket no-visitors pandemic policy that excludes clergy. They could certainly require priests to wear personal protective equipment (PPE) and be trained in heightened safety precautions to protect themselves and others. No urgent medical reason exists, however, to justify denying sacramental access to patients. Also, thinking that a chaplain is a chaplain may just represent ignorance on the part of nonbelievers, but there is no substitute for a Catholic priest in the conferring of certain sacraments.

We at The National Catholic Bioethics Center have published a resource on access to the sacraments in times of pandemic. We have heard terrible accounts from people who contact us for free individual ethical consults. People tell us of loved ones who died alone without the benefit of the last rites in hospitals during this pandemic. I have always felt strongly about this issue, but it is a very personal concern for me now.

The Church must demand that fundamental rights be respected. A crisis is not an excuse for human rights violations. Rather it calls for greater accommodation and compassion for believers in danger of death, who may need a priest even more than a doctor as they prepare to meet their Maker.

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