Impatient Patient II

This is the second version. (With added dialogue).

*****

Most people would agree that committing suicide is a cowardly act, but I disagree. I believe that you need a lot of guts to do it.

You are a coward if you kill yourself to avoid confronting any kind of personal problems. But I think you need a lot of courage to do it. On the other hand, why would you care if they think you are a coward if you commit suicide if you are already dead? Of course, I am not an expert on the subject. First, I have to kill myself to be an expert, but then I wouldn’t be an expert. I’d just be dead.

I cry quietly when I’m alone. Solitude always brings pain to my soul. It reminds me of the cruel reality . . .  I am dying.

If only I could die before my life ends, that would be perfect.

I don’t want anyone to notice my pain and desperation because I don’t want anybody’s compassion. When I think about my hopeless situation I get depressed, even though I understand about the futility of it. 

I feel like I'm drowning and someone throws an anchor to save me.
It’s useless. And why would I ask God for a miracle when I know that He has already sealed my fate.

My doctor is a friend of the family. I think my wife and him dated briefly before she married me. His name is Eric. I put my complete trust in him. I’m sure he’s doing his best to save me, even though I'm beyond salvation. I also know he does his best for the rest of his patients too, so that removes the tag from me, of being a "special case". I feel his compassion and desire to lessen my suffering.

Before I found out about my illness, my wife and I shared many happy years. Then, we imperceptibly started to disagree about our desires and goals. Our real selves began to emerge. We began to spend more time apart, even if we were in the same house. Our relationship survived mostly because of our kids. But our love didn't completely disappear, we still loved each other; we just became too reluctant to show it. It just became a stupid game of, "if you don't show your love, I won't show mine either."

Then, the incompatibility began to grow and pushed us further apart. I began to think, "what if I’ve taken the other path, what if I had said yes to my other option, to the other candidate before we met each other." My wife was probably having similar thoughts. I suffered being so distant from her. 

Deep inside, I wanted her to show me more love. But perhaps I was only getting what I deserved.

I knew my wife was a good person with a great heart. I knew it was my fault things didn’t work out. I contributed greatly to change her personality. I extinguished her ebullient love for life with my many flaws. I know she was a better person before she met me.

Lately, the conversations I’ve had with my wife usually have diverted into a tragic topic: my fate.

After coming out from the movie theater one night, my wife and I went to a nearby coffee shop.

“You look sadder than usual honey, did you enjoy the movie?” my wife asked as soon as we found a table.

“I’m sorry Lydia it’s hard to concentrate in my condition. I felt that I just lost two hours of my life there. I thought I’d rather spend those two hours with you, even though you were next to me. Do I make sense? I mean, time makes no sense to me anymore. I hate to talk over and over about my situation, but I don’t find meaning in anything anymore, nothing seems relevant. It seems like I’m not using my time in a productive way. After anything I do, I think . . . 'what’s the point, I’m dying anyway.'”

“But honey, you need to forget about . . . about that stuff, in the end, you’re really wasting your time thinking that way. Enjoy the moment, please honey, you need to try. Tell me, what would you do if you didn’t know about your medical condition?”

“Most of my thoughts are centered on that question, ‘what would I do if I didn’t know I was dying?’ and you know what? I would be just a normal person.”

“Would you love me more?”

“Yes honey, and I would love the entire world and everything in it. I would be more enthusiastic and positive. But what’s the point? Even you know that everything is hopeless. I can love you more, and you can love me more. But what’s the point, if I’ll be gone soon.”

“I’ll be selfish this time Sam, I just want you to love me more like you used to. Make me happy again."

“I'll try my best honey.”

*****

One day, I was killing time before a doctor’s appointment. I noticed a little church near his office and I decided to have a talk with God. Even though I've never been a religious man, I knew my recent health decline didn't change any of that. 

A non-believer shouldn't ask for miracles, but I did anyway.


“So here I am, asking you for an extension, you are the landlord  and you’re asking me to vacate your property, but I renegade your decision, what are you going to do about it?”

Wait a minute, I began too aggressive, let’s start again.

“I've learned to love the life you gave me, please don’t take it away just yet. I know you can come up with a trick or two. I can even suggest a few. For example, tomorrow I’ll wake up from my sleep to find that my predicament was just a dream, or they discover that the nurse made a mistake and took a medical record from another patient. Oh, it’s useless, just do whatever you like. But I wish you could change your mind. Take care now, and don’t give yourself a terminal illness.”

The last part of my monologue was a little sarcastic, but I don’t regret it. I know I’m not good enough to influence his decisions, but at the same time, I don’t believe I’m bad enough to deserve this fate. The only urgency I have is for God to postpone my death for another thirty years.

I just wish I didn't know I was dying.


“Excuse me, son, I didn’t mean to, but I overheard your conversation, I’m sure God can help you. Do you want to confess?” A tremendous shock lifted me from my seat as a priest came out of the confession booth.

“No father, I’m on my way out,” I answered.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I’m leaving this world, I’m dying, and a confession won’t help me at all. I just want to keep on living, nothing else would make me happy.”

“God works in mysterious ways. He can make you happy while you’re still here. What’s your affliction?

“I never liked that phrase ‘God works in mysterious ways’, it sounds like an excuse for someone that doesn’t know a thing about God. You have to come up with something better. I want to communicate with God but without any mysteries.”

“I hear the anger in your voice; tell me, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry father; nobody can help me. I’m dying and there’s no solution. Unless God grants me a miracle, but it would be a miracle if he grants me a miracle, ha. Excuse me if I'm a little sarcastic, I believe I have the right to feel this way, after all, I’ve been robbed, and God appears to be the thief.”

“All of us are just passing by on this earth, we should be thankful he allows us to be here, even if it’s for a short time. It’s only normal to feel resentful. God will forgive you that too. Just remember, in heaven, you’ll be happy for an eternity.”

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. I just want my life. God is so unfair, father. Anyway, I have to go, bye father.” 

When I came out of the church the cold air burned my eyes. Crying was useless too.

*****

We all have a special friend, one we can trust with our deepest secrets. A friend you can call to bail you out from jail at three a.m. One you can trust with your medical history, one that will never betray you, even if you tell him you just killed somebody. A friend that will never laugh at you just to make you feel bad. He would never hurt your feelings.

Daniel is that kind of friend. We confide in each other and talk about things I wouldn't discuss with anybody. He knows I’m dying; he knows about my fears and my thoughts of death and suicide. He knows more about me than my mother. He knows how much I was enjoying life before the current events ravished my future. Of course, I know him well, and I would do anything for him too.

“Wouldn’t it be great if you could inherit skills or knowledge from a person who just died?” Daniel asked.

I wouldn’t mind any kind of questions coming from Daniel, especially after six or seven beers. Shooting pool with Daniel was one of the few enjoyable distractions left in my life.

“I know you’re talking about me. If it was possible, what would you like me to leave you?”

“The way you shoot pool. I can only win one or two games out of ten. It’s always the same, and you don’t even seem to be trying hard.”

“I'd gladly transfer all my skills to you, after all, they'll be useless under six feet of dirt soon. Wow, why is it that I always end up talking about depressive stuff. I know my only escape is to commit suicide, Daniel. My life is truly dysfunctional.  

“Nothing would make me happier than to help you get rid of the extra weight you’re carrying. I love you brother.”

“Thanks Daniel, I know most of what I say is depressing, but that’s all I have in my mind. Talking to you is therapeutic, you have no idea how much it helps. Sometimes, I wish you had a huge problem too, just so I could help you. Then I realize how stupid and absurd my thoughts are, and then I go back to my misery. See what I mean? Everything I say is depressing.”

“I have no doubt you would do the same for me. Once in a while, I put myself in your position, and I know I couldn’t be brave enough to handle it.  You can’t stay longer, and you can’t leave sooner  what a terrible dilemma.” he said.

“You’re right Daniel, it’s a huge dilemma, all things that are supposed to make me happy have the opposite effect because it reminds me that soon I wouldn’t be able to experience that happiness and it makes me sad.”

“I would trade my life for yours anytime, just to see you happy. I’d give my life, so you can go on living. You have too much to lose. I can have a lot of hypothetical wishes, but nothing would change your situation, it sucks. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it, Sam, just tell me.”

A few days later, he gave me a gun, and with a lump in his throat, he also gave me a warm embrace. But I bet he knew I didn't have the courage to do it.

*****

The most joy I get out of life is when I’m with my son and my daughter, they are my best friends. Our relationship has been great since the first day they showed up in this world, even after they became independent and left home. Although they are in my heart at all times, I still miss them.

The best thing my wife and I ever did was having kids. They were the glue that kept us together. I love their inner beauty, their peaceful serenity. Nothing can match the happiness they bring to me. I can never be thankful enough for such blessings. At the same time, one of the worse regrets I have is knowing that I could have been a better father. If I had more time, that's the first thing I would fix.

After I received the devastating news from the doctor, I began to make appointments, and get disappointments in return. After bad news, worse news, I never heard of best-case scenarios.
 
After a while, I lost my patience for everything. I hated when I had to wait in line for whatever reason. At the bank, at the restaurant, or when I had to wait for my turn at the pool table, and waiting for the movie to begin was bad too, but the worst was waiting for death to arrive.

One time, I received a call from the dentist office; they said they needed to cancel my appointment. What the hell? It was like postponing an execution to the electric chair because the sentenced man had suffered a minor toothache (combining barbaric middle age actions with modern human ethics). They could only put him to death if he was completely healthy. Can you find a worse contradiction? Anyway, why would I need perfect teeth now?

My physical condition had not suffered any changes yet. My body was not showing any deterioration yet. At this point, only my mind had taken a beating, but I knew I looked healthy overall.

Unnoticed by my family and friends, I occupied most of my time thinking about the short time I had left. I was worried about looking at watches, clocks, and calendars. About birthdays and anniversaries, about holidays and vacations. I was worried about time passing by so fast. When you don't know you're dying, you don't worry about death.

It’s been a few months since I found out about my prognosis. Perhaps, because of my imminent fate, I began to feel an immense love for my wife again. I wanted to share many more years with her, grow old with her. If I could live a few more years, I would do more things than what I’ve done so far. I would get rid of so many faults and defects I have. I'd worship my wife back again. Like when I first met her. I'd make every minute of my life count.

One night, my wife caught me off guard with a question, “Do you believe in heaven?”

“I want to believe it exists, but it doesn’t matter what I believe. I know I was in heaven before I received news of my sad misfortune. I was in heaven when I had my little family together before I was sent to death row. I think I got it backward, first heaven and then hell. Honey, if heaven exists, I already earned a place there.”

Then she asked, “Do you believe in miracles?”

“That’s funny, the other day I went to church, I was talking to a priest. First I asked God for a miracle, but I was too sarcastic. I don’t think He liked me, so I asked the priest to interfere for me, I thought maybe God listens to him. Then, I returned to reality, my fate was written in stone and nothing could change it. By the way, do you think I should make arrangements for my funeral, order my tombstone and write my own eulogy?”

“Sam, please stop that, I prohibit you from talking that way. Oh, and one more thing, I found a gun in your closet and got rid of it already. You have to promise me to never think about suicide. I swear, I would kill myself too. I need you to believe in miracles, I really do. Have some faith, please honey.” then she embraced me very tight and I felt her tears on my chest.

*****

It was ironically sad that I had a doctor’s appointment on my birthday. When you have a death sentence you can’t celebrate your birthdays. Birthdays turn into sad events, and you have to keep it to yourself. You keep your tears inside your "joy".
 
Eric was serious, I thought I detected a restrained smile on his face. My wife grabbed a chair and put it behind the desk, next to Eric’s chair. At that moment I felt a little jealous. They looked like the perfect couple. My wife, wearing a beautiful smile, said . . .

“We have good news,” she paused, still smiling, but seemed to be struggling to find the right words to continue. “What I'm about to say will be a complete shock, but you have to promise you’ll react in a mature way. Promise . . . ?”

I had no idea what the good news could be. I didn’t have the slightest idea of what they could consider good news in my case. Did somebody discover a drug or vaccine to cure my disease? Were they going to confess their love for each other? But, that wouldn't be good news for me, so I discarded that horrific thought. Finally, my head stopped from spinning, and my mind quit wondering about stupid assumptions and I said, “I promise.”

“Don’t speak until I finish," she paused again.

“You are healthy. You were never sick. I planned it all to avoid our marriage to end. I was afraid of losing you,” then, with tears in her eyes she added, 

“I just couldn’t live without you. I knew how much you enjoyed life, so I never thought you'd commit suicide; although that was a stupid risk I was running. Now, you can do whatever you like with your life, but I wish you decide to spend it with me. Happy birthday, honey, I love you.”

I should have been mad, but I wasn't. I could have had a heart attack and died right there, but instead, I stood up and kissed her. I had joyful tears rolling down my cheeks. I was born again. No matter how I would look at it, it was a miracle, nothing else but a miracle. How could I feel mad or upset about it, how could I feel angry or annoyed? My heart was full of joy; my soul couldn’t hold so much happiness.

Then I remembered my visit to that little church, the talk I had with God. I knew I had to go back right away and offer him my repentance and appreciation. The only place I wanted to be at that moment was in that little church.

My wife and Eric were baffled about my sudden desire to be somewhere else.

*****

On my way to church, I kept thinking how fortunate I was to have my life back. My future was intact after all. I never had a death sentence, and for that reason, I never needed a miracle. But in this case, I’ll discard all logic and rationale, the hell with it. It’s a miracle as far as I’m concerned, and I’ll never change my mind.

The church was deserted. A conversation took place, one of them was a mere mortal who had received a second chance and the other was a Supreme Being able to grant or deprive anybody’s life in an instant. He had given me another chance. This time, I wouldn’t waste a minute of it.

“I know I'll never find the proper way to express my gratitude, but I promise you I’ll never doubt your existence again and I can assure you we’ll be friends for a long time. I’ll be grateful every single day for the rest of my life.”

When I came out of the church my soul was at peace. I was the happiest man on earth if that could be possible.

Then, I heard something that sounded like a firecracker and then I felt a little pain in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my good friend Daniel with a gun in his hand.

Then, before I could react, I heard another shot.

And that was the last thing I heard.





Edmundo Barraza 
Visalia, Ca. Aug-7-2011
http://edbar1952-accomplishedignorant.blogspot.com/