After the Buddha had commenced the rainy season residence, he fell severely ill, struck by dreadful pains, close to death. But he endured unbothered, with mindfulness and situational awareness. Then it occurred to the Buddha: “It would not be appropriate for me to be fully extinguished before informing my supporters and taking leave of the mendicant Saṅgha. Why don’t I forcefully suppress this illness, stabilize the life force, and live on?” So that is what he did. Then the Buddha’s illness died down.

Soon after the Buddha had recovered from that sickness, he left his dwelling and sat in the shade of the porch on the seat spread out. Then Venerable Ānanda went up to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and said to him: “Sir, it’s fantastic that the Buddha is comfortable, that he’s keeping well, and that he’s getting by. Because when the Buddha was sick, my body felt like it was drugged. I was disorientated, and the teachings didn’t spring to mind. Still, at least I was consoled by the thought that the Buddha won’t be fully extinguished without bringing something up regarding the Saṅgha of mendicants.”