I stayed in bed contemplating the consequences of simply urinating in my sheets…I live alone…who would know besides me? And I’m sure I could overlook this most bizarre of failures…eventually…but probably not until the urine had dried a nice yellow-brown stain into my mattress. Until the final, dried, ink blot occurred in the cotton batting, I would be forced to lie in cold, wet, smelly sheets if I chose this route of relief. Like trigonometry, this course of action was not in my future best interest.
And still, I remained a fixture in my bed…with a bladder swelling like a red water balloon in the hot little hands of a 10 year old in July...trying to find a fitting target to "burst" upon. Not wanting to make any choices about my future relief, I decided I needed to distract myself from the growing pressure in my abdomen...so I began a series of mindless thinking…or as some might refer to it, “day dreaming”.
It’s quite odd where my mind wanders off to when I am in discomfort and trying to avoid unpleasantries. I say “odd” because I have heard of few people day dreaming about what their conversation would be with their God/Maker/Creator/Master if they were to die in the moment…from a ruptured bladder...but still, my mind went there. And the conversation went something like this:
**The scene is set in what appears to be a bright, sunny day. Yet there are no people or things or activities, and I appear to be floating on some type of misty cloud, sitting behind a large desk, waiting for a bright door to open. I feel warm all over (and I had to wonder if maybe I DID urinate on myself at this point) and content. Suddenly a Voice booms out to me from behind the door as a very white piece of paper appears on the desk in front of me. There are only two questions written on the paper in the most exquisite handwriting I have ever seen. The Voice calls out:**
“There will be an oral exam. Answer the questions on the paper.”
**I review the questions on the paper, which are quite short, and I feel a confidence in my responses.**
“Hmmm…the first question says, 1) How much did you love?, and the second question says, 2) How much did you learn? Is this really all there is? Are these the only questions I must answer to gain entrance into the Afterlife?”
**Again the deep, yet crystal clear Voice says**:
“There will be an oral exam. Answer the questions on the paper.”
**I take a deep breath, confident I can nail this one. Two questions. Has my life really boiled down to two questions?**
“Well, the first question is quite easy and I’m surprised YOU don’t already know the answer to that one, O’ Great One. How much did I love? Well, let’s see…
**And I begin to ramble**
“I was born with two parents who, although not the most warm and fuzzy people in the world, loved me and I guess I loved them. Then there were my two sisters…I fought a lot with my middle sister…loved my eldest sister…and I guess I can say I tolerate/like my middle sister now. There was also a whole host of extended family…most are dead now…but I guess you already know that, too. Then there have been my friends. I love my friends…they are like the family I had to grow to love only better. And I work with people…mentally ill people…and I guess I can say I love them, too. You KNOW I try to always do good works with them, don’t you? Oh, and I have my cat…I pretty much love her also. I’m rambling now, aren’t I?”
**The Voice patiently repeats itself**
“There will be an oral exam. Answer the questions on the paper.”
**I’m starting to feel a twinge of nervousness now. I thought I HAD just answered question number one…but it was apparent the Voice wanted something more**
“Oh, OK…so you’re not just asking about people, huh? How much have I loved? Well, I think I’ve loved pretty big, you know? I mean, there have certainly been people I haven’t liked and circumstances I have disliked, but overall, I think I’ve loved pretty big. Oh, then there is this shitty disease you gave me…can I say, “shitty” here? Hmmm…I guess I can if you want an honest answer. I certainly have not “loved” Multiple Sclerosis. As a matter of fact, I’d have to say I haven’t really embraced the concept of “loving” this disease at all. And I’m kind of curious…WHY did you give me MS anyway?"
**There is only silence. I realize suddenly this might not be the best time to question my Maker about Their motives. I imagine a bolt of lightening streaking down out of this bright sky and striking me dead. Then it dawns on me I am probably ALREADY DEAD if I am talking to my Maker, so I ramble on**
“OK, scratch that question. I get it. I’m just supposed to ANSWER the questions, right? So that’s my final answer, Alex…I think I’ve loved big, minus a few people, situations, and diseases.”
**There is only silence, so I nervously move on. I decide to try the comedic approach. Surely God has a sense of humor?**
“Question number two. How much did I learn? (I laugh a giddy laugh here) Well, you’ve certainly given me ample life lessons to learn SOMETHING, haven’t you? Oh, that’s right…you’re not answering the questions…I am. OK, for starters. I learned NEVER to try to remove the mixer on a shower in a condo building that has only ONE water shut off to the entire building…you remember THAT debacle, don’t you? The one where, I’ll just say “You”, nearly killed me by blowing that mixer into my chest with a blast of water with the pressure of Niagara Falls? I remember it…and I learned from it. Like I tried to do from ALL of the life lessons you sent me. And I learned a whole lot of other things, too, but I’m assuming you don’t necessarily want me to detail them here because you already KNOW them, right? I mean, the list is quite niggly and long. I hope I'm not boring you...God. Am I supposed to refer to you as "God" or do you prefer something else like, 'O' Great One', or 'Puff Daddy', or 'Grand Mistress' something? Is there going to be a question and answer time for ME to ask YOU questions when we're through here? Cause I certainly have a LOT of them...questions, that is?"
**A silence as thick as Antarctic ice settles into the scene. I wait…scared to life because I'm already probably dead. I wait. I think to myself I’ve probably said too much already. And then, the Voice speaks again. I don't hear any annoyance in the tone, but I'm pretty sure just like a failed job interview, I'm not going to BE "hired"**
“My Child. When you have learned that love is all there is, come back to me. Until you have learned this, I will continue to provide you ample opportunities to enlighten you…and then, some day in eternity, you will be able to answer both questions with one response.”
And this, my friends, is when I finally got up, dragged myself to my bathroom on a pair of unforgiving MS legs, and urinated. The “pressure” had become too great…in more ways than one…
10 comments:
Depends....pull ups.... Since you are the only one there, might be worth having a trusted someone go to the store for some.
As for your conversation with God, that's the title of my first book "Conversations with God....and Others" which I'm sorry to say didn't sell more than 300 copies.
We all have "those" conversations at one time or another. I love the final response.
Take care,
Anne
Wow...rather poignant.
I worry about you when you talk to God. Seriously.
ANNE:
Great minds think alike? LOL Or maybe I simply STOLE your book title from the collective conscience?
Now you have me curious about your book...can I find it on Amazon?
LD
LISA E:
GIRL! I just caught a glimpse of your blog today!!! Talk about poignant...whew...
LD
STEVE:
You should become MORE concerned when I start talking back to the "other" voices in my head! At least I'm not having command auditory hallucinations at this point...but give it time...LOL
LD
This was my favorite post of yours! Perfect. Funny and meaningful. That Solumedrol is working miracles.
DIANE:
It is either the Soly or the psychosis finally kicking in full stream causing these moments of auditory hallucinations...I guess as long as it remains entertaining, I won't worry...yet. LOL
LD
Linda: My book sold only 300 copies back in the 1970's and I believe I am the only one who still has a copy left in print.
I was published by Vantage Press - self pay - because no one would publish it. Seeing as only 300 copies sold, I can now see why no publisher would touch it. I paid for 500 copies, the publisher gave me the leftovers and I gave them away as gifts, kept some and trashed the rest. Probably in the great landfill in the sky by now.
The only other publishing I have done is magazine articles under a pseudonym, which I am keeping mum. When I finally SELL to a REAL publisher, I will be bragging to the hilt!
ANNE:
And you SHOULD brag to the hilt when that happens! You are a gifted writer and story teller...and I'll be BRAGGING to have known you on the Internet! LOL
LD
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