During morning rounds, when medical teams gather to discuss their cases, the chaplains sit in. In the case of one 30-year-old Chinese man with cancer, Chodo advised that they needed to be careful because in Chinese culture, "you don't normally discuss death in front of the patient."
Once a week, Chodo visits the Robert Mapplethorpe Residential Treatment Facility, part of Beth Israel's AIDS treatment program.
Most of the patients, whose harsh lives show in their tired eyes and bodies, have spent time in prison or on the streets.
But here they were, sitting in a dark room, chanting the lotus sutra while having their heads massaged. As Chodo's soothing voice filled the room, their chatter gave way to dreamy murmurs.
"When I meditate, it takes me to some beautiful places, even though I'm from Brooklyn," said Kevin, one of the center's residents, ticking off his visions of paradise: Paris, Rio, Jamaica.
George, another resident, asked everyone to remember the 228 souls lost when an Air France jet vanished over the Atlantic Ocean. The crash was a reminder of how life can be cut short without warning, Chodo said, urging those around the table to be kinder to themselves each day -- perhaps by having one less cigarette or doughnut, or making one less trip to Starbucks.
Then he cleared the room so he could meet privately with Rafael, an AIDS patient whose clothes hung from his once-buff frame. Rafael wept as he spoke of his fiancee in the Bronx, who no longer visited or returned his calls.
Chodo held his hand and simply listened, saying nothing.
After a few minutes, Rafael thanked Chodo and shuffled back to his room.
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tina.susman@latimes.com
