Tuesday,
December 3, 2002.
Who needs angels above when you've got angels
down here like: Susan
!
This is not a cheerful holiday entry. Fair warning. Sorry.
(Skip to the bottom half for the GOOD stuff.)
TWO WEEKS NOTICE
We can do this the easy way,
or we can do this the hard way.
Unfortunately I already tried the easy way. Talking in hints, soft words, suggestions, euphemisms. Usually the person will realize that when I say "you should start getting your affairs in order," I am not talking about stewardesses and secretaries (or pool boys and personal trainers).
This particular bed-bound patient did not get it.
"Look," I told him as he stared at me blankly from his hospital bed,
"There isn't anything else we can do for you. Surgically or medically. We cannot make you better."
"How am I doing then?" he asked quite obliviously, considering his gangrenous feet were the color and texture of burnt firewood and he was too weak to lift his eyebrows much less his head off the pillow.
"Not good. You see how black your feet are? That's because the blood vessels down there are shot. That's pretty much how the vessels are in your entire body. Including your heart," I said.
"Hmm. Can we make my feet better?"
"The only way to treat gangrene this bad is to amputate both your legs. But Sir Jury (surgery) can't touch you; your heart couldn't take it. Cards (what we call cardiology) can't fix your heart either. This is why we've been treating you with antibiotics and pressors this whole time. And it's not working," I explain to him for the umpteenth time.
"Ah, you know I'm trying to remember the name of the hospital I had my gallbladder ... ," he wandered.
Big sigh. I look down. I look away. I face him again and touch his hand.
"Look ... you don't have much time left. You're ... you're not going to live much longer," I say in that weird Twilight Zone way, when you realize what you are saying yet cannot quite fathom the reality of it to the other person. My pained expression locks his gaze.
You want to know what death looks like? It looks like my eyes when someone like me has to tell you something like that.
(And no, this is not going to be somebody who goes on Nightline in five years telling Diane Sawyer how "all the doctors said I was going to die" and yet miraculously he lived. They don't have makeup artists good enough to allow a guy who looks like this go on TV anyhow. Although Christopher Reeve's people are pretty good, I hear.)
"Oh.... Like a year? Six months?"
"I don't know. But ... more like six weeks. Even that may be optimistic."
"I ... see. Unfortunate."
"The hospice people saw you yesterday (he didn't recall the conversation) and think that you are a good candidate for inpatient (in-hospital) hospice. They only offer inpatient hospice for people with two weeks or less to live," the fun never stops once I really get going.
"You know, ... if you have anything you like, like movies, books, (strippers) or whatever, you should ask your friend to bring them in for you too."
Sometimes I think the God Squad in our hospital have it easy. Sure, they have to read dying people their last rites all the time, but at least they can still offer hope. Heaven, angels, vanilla-frosted holy wafers.
I can offer nothing.
One of these days I am going to find the most inspirational Bible quote there is and memorize it, chapter and verse. Just for those occasions when someone like this asks me if I believe in God, and I can answer back "Well of course! How else would you explain the WONDERS of blah blah blah." I am sure I could be pretty convincing in my zeal (I could pretend I was talking about Lee Jung Hyun or Mortal Kombat) if I really wanted to. Sometimes I can almost convince myself when I wonder if God could be the electron bonds that despite an ever increasing entropy still bind us, the silly pursuits of life in general that pushes us, the belief in something other than nothing to guide us. Sometimes.
I'm still an atheist though. Just not a flaming atheist (at least until I get to Hell maybe, ha!). Live and let believe. Far be it from me to take away someone's faith or hope when that's all they have left.
I can offer morphine. Why should faith be any different?
He doesn't ask me any of that though.
"Thanks for stopping by doc," he offers both hands to shake, "I appreciate it."
I contemplate whether or not to tell him it's Thanksgiving today. I did tell him, in fact. But he didn't hear my muttering and I didn't bother to repeat it. What's to be thankful for?
And Christmas? Forget it. Maybe Christ will invite you to his birthday upstairs, because you sure won't be celebrating down here.
Maybe things will go smoother with the next Not Yet Dead talk, but I doubt it.
These talks only get easier when you let a part of yourself die inside too. I know this from personal experience. Believe me.
_____________________________________
Wow! I'm honestly surprised a couple of people actually responded to my model inquiries in the previous entry. Even my cousin (in-law), whom I didn't realize was reading this, got a shirt. I already have incriminating photos of him but more are welcome. Yes, this is open to guys as well as girls, of all creeds and levels of nudity and wet T-shirt-ness (hint!).
Anyways, my
MEDEA SIN HOT MODEL
today is none other than the always oh so kim chic Susan! Besides being incredibly nice and stylishly gorgeous, she also has some of the coolest pictures on her site from the big cities all the way to Corea (my favorites are the ones with her in them).
She's actually wearing a shirt from RBJ but I drew the picture so it still counts. Honestly, Susan could be wearing nothing at all and I'd still post her pic here ... um, that didn't come out right. Bad oppa!
Thank you dongseng SUSAN !!
Again, wear something with any of my drawings on it, and have my utmost appreciation and thanks (all profit goes to the non-charitable institution known as cafepress.com, not me of course). I am open to requests.
