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Final Thoughts

Ronald Brunsky

    “What will happen? Is there more? Or will this be all she wrote?” thought Steve.
    Death and beyond seemed to be the only subject of any interest to him anymore, and considering his condition—why not. True everyone is going to die, but for most the simple joys of life seem to relegate that subject to a rare thought or discussion. But Steve’s terminal disease left him with only his thoughts, and usually they consisted of what would follow that final heartbeat.
     An elderly nurse entered Steve’s room. She proceeded to check out his vital signs in a very regimented and swift order.
    “I wonder how many she’s seen exit this life,” thought Steve. Probably thousands of poor bastards, she looks older than dirt.”
     After installing a new IV bag, without so much as a word, she promptly left the room.
    “Will Sue stop by today?” Steve thought. “I doubt it. She doesn’t drive anymore.”
    “Who’s going to bring her? Jerald and Lynn are both out of state. They already used up their vacation time because of me. They have jobs, and we can’t expect our neighbors to keep bringing her.”
    Dozing off, Steve’s mind roamed back to an earlier time, a much happier time.
    The golf ball clearing the small pond landed gently and rolled to within 20 feet of the pin, on the par 5, 11th hole at Evergreen Lakes Public golf course. It was beautiful sunny summer’s morning. A lush green fairway, edged with giant pines and maples, led up to a gentle rolling green guarded by two bunkers filled with the purest white sand, and a small pond with clear rippling blue water nestled up to the front of the green—this was certainly a heavenly vision if there ever was one.
    “Nice shot,” said Barney. “You got all of that one. I think you’re on the green. Yep, you’re dancing all right.”
    “Thanks, that one really felt good.”
    “You know Steve, retirement’s great isn’t it. Play golf two, three times a week. Can’t beat it.”
    “It’s great till the old reaper collects,” said Steve.
    “Got that right. Ha ha ha.”
    “But you’ve already got your ticket to paradise, right Barney—at least according to your minister.”
    “When are you going to see the light Steve. Just look at this beautiful setting, do you think it just happened by chance?”
    “No, the groundskeepers work really hard at it.”
    “Ok,” said Barney, “but I’ll pray for that old atheist soul of yours anyway.”
    Steve suddenly woke. His dream was so real, that the disappointment of reality hit him hard.
    “How come pain and death are always treated so lightly, when your healthy,” Steve thought. “You know its coming, no one escapes.”
    That was that ten years ago when Steve was healthy and life was good, very good.
    Steve and Sue were well prepared for retirement. Life was going to be great. And for a decade or so it was. They were very active—no couch potatoes. Besides his golfing, Sue loved her home projects, and they both volunteered at the hospital and then there was the dancing every weekend. They frequently traveled out of state to visit their son and daughter’s families. Life was anything but boring. Death or dependency seemed like an eternity away.
    But then came that terrible, but inevitable day for all of us. The day you find out that you are not immortal you are just flesh and bones that eventually wear out or can no longer fight off one of the many afflictions that constantly bombard your immune system.
    The diagnosis came straight from the shoulder, just the way Steve wanted it—no sugar coating.
    “Steve, what you have isn’t strained muscles or anything else that I can treat,” said the doctor. “I’m very sorry, but you have a terminal disease.”
    “What is it—how long do I have?”
    “Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS, and also called “Lou Gehrig’s Decease.”
    Steve thought back to one of his favorite movies when he was a kid. “The Pride of the Yankees” starring Gary Cooper. He remembered how a great athlete in his prime quickly became a crippled old man, and died in a few short years.
    For a few months things were pretty normal, then it suddenly started progressing at an accelerated pace and in less than a year’s time he was bedridden. No drugs were effective at slowing down the condition, and the doctors held little hope he would last more than about six weeks.
    His mind although alert and sharp as ever, was trapped in a paralyzed body barely able to breathe on its own.
    Steve’s speech now limited to mere grunts, left him alone with his thoughts, practically unable to communicate.
    “How much longer,” he thought. “Why do I have to keep on living? For what?” Steve thought.
    Two aids came into Steve’s room. They cleaned his frail body and changed the bedding. To Steve this was the most degrading part of this whole experience.
    “I’m as helpless as a new born baby,” Steve thought. “Dammit, I want to die. What purpose does keeping me alive serve. Those idiots who criticized and outlawed Kevorkian, the mother fucking bastards they should all have to go through this. Why are we more humane in our treatment of animals than to ourselves?
    The thought of death was never totally out of Steve’s mind. It was so fascinating, and never as relevant as it was now. But then, he had always enjoyed a vigorous discussion or argument over religion and the afterlife.
    The interior of the clubhouse at Evergreen Lakes looked like something out of “The Great Gatsby”. Built back during the opulent period of the 1920’s, they spared no expense. The varnished oak and maple wood was everywhere, from the fifty foot bar, and magnificent library to heavy ceiling beams and pillars. The lavish layout with vinyl studded chairs, and beautiful polished hardwood floors except where several thick Persian carpets lay.
    How was a lowly CPA like Steve allowed to play here and socialize at this exclusive men’s club. It was simple he handled most of the members taxes. He’d been coming here as a guest for years.
    Sitting at a table beneath a giant picture of the legendary Bobby Jones hitting an iron into the 17th green at Augusta National, Father Clarence O’Reilly waved Steve over. Hardly a month would go by without the two of them having a long talk about everything under the sun, but it somehow always got down to religion.
    “Father, how are you?” Steve said.
    “Fine, and you?”
    “Little tuckered out—had a miserable round today. I couldn’t get out of bunkers on 3 and 11—took two double bogeys.”
    An elegantly dressed elderly waiter approached them, bringing two drinks—a gin and tonic for Father O’Reilly and a dark beer for Steve. Steve reached for his wallet, but then remembered where he was.
    “I would have had the round of my life if I only had two double bogeys,” said Father.
    “I would think you’d par the course most of the time with your connections,” smirked Steve.
    “Here we go again. You know Steve if you think God is going to call you on the phone or e-mail you—it just ain’t going to happen that way. You must have faith.”
    “Father,” smiled Steve, “I have the greatest respect for you as a human being. But really how can you follow a religion led by a man who walks around in those silly hats?”
    “Seriously Steve, you’re still my number one project. I pray for you everyday.”
    “Don’t get me started on prayer. Isn’t that something a schoolgirl does to get a boy to notice her? But then God says to her wait a minute Lisa, I’ve got some six year olds in Connecticut I’ve got to shoot first.”
    “He does works in mysterious ways,” said Father. “You have to accept that.”
    “You know father what will follow death is easily the greatest enigma. This mystery has plagued mankind ever since the first man realized he was mortal.
    Yet this could all be settled if the hundred billion people who already know the answer of the afterlife would just tell us.”
    “One hundred billion people,” said Father, “what are you talking about?”
    “I’m talking about the hundred billion people who have already lived and died since man evolved from monkeys. That’s what I’m talking about.”
    “Well Steve, they’re not going to tell us.”
    “Father, I’ve struggled with this religious issue for a long time. But now I’m content. I really am.”
    “I know Steve. But being an Atheist isn’t the answer, believe me.”
    “Not Atheist, Agnostic.”
    “That’s just splitting hairs. You’re still a lost soul.”
    “No, I’m not lost. I’ve finally found myself. I don’t know and I admit it. I don’t know is the key phrase. I’m not saying there isn’t a God. I’m just saying I don’t know. I think down deep most people feel the same way, Christian or not. I really think even you have your doubts, Father.”
    “When it gets down to that final hour, true I may have some concerns as to what exactly is going to happen, but I’m sure the Lord will look after me.”
    “Father, all I can say is I’m ready to take my chances. If there is a God and he would send good, hard working people who lived by the Golden Rule to Hell, then so be it. I just can’t be a phony and agree to worship an invisible, unproven entity, just so others will approve of me.”
    Soon after the aids left, Sue entered the room. She sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his. Steve’s eyes opened widely—his only available responsive gesture.
    Looking into his eyes, she smiled.
    “I love you dear.”
    He nodded very slightly acknowledging her.
    “Father O’Reilly stopped by. He said his golf game has improved and he ready to give you a good match.”
    A faint smile appeared on Steve’s face. As she looked into his eyes, he reflected back to an insignificant yet particularly memorable occasion.
    They loved to eat out. And since retirement they did it quite frequently. One place in particular was their favorite place for breakfast.
    The Captains Inn was a quaint little spot on the Lake Erie shoreline. Every table in the place had a lake view, with tables outside on the water’s edge for the summer time.
    The interior was decorated in nineteenth century tall sailing ship décor. The ambiance from the nautical theme permeated the restaurant’s air. Everything from a lady figurehead, the carved figure that adorned the ship’s hull to a rusty cannon, allegedly coming from one of Captain Morgan’s vessels.
    Both Steve and Sue loved to be near the sea, and the Captains Inn became their favorite spot.
    On this occasion they were seated right next to large window which overlooked the break-wall and a giant ore ship which was approaching the dock for unloading. Hundreds of sea gulls hovered over the water occasionally diving in to try to snare a fish. Hundreds more lined the beach feeding on scraps left from the sun worshipers picnicking.
    “Boy, this is one beautiful morning, Sue,” said Steve.
    “I love this place. I wish we could come every morning.”
    “Who’s stopping us. Were retired, remember,” said Steve.
    Unfortunately, just a few weeks later Steve began to notice some leg pain. He started doing more stretching in the morning and took a pill or two of Ibuprofen per his doctor’s instructions. But his symptoms began to multiply and increase in severity until he could no longer walk nine holes.
    Eventually, even with a golf cart he couldn’t play as his balance was impaired. It was only a couple months after that, that he was wheel chair bound.
    Sue sat with Steve for a while. She couldn’t hide the forlorn expression on her face. These last months had taken a dreadful toll on her too. Imagine hoping that Steve’s ailment was ONLY CANCER, than at least there would be some hope no matter how slim. This terrible condition was totally hopeless—a death sentence from the onset.
    Sue kissed his forehead.
    “Good bye dear, I’ll try and see you tomorrow. Oh, I almost forgot, Lynn is going to fly in this weekend and stay for a week.”
    The next few weeks saw an accelerated progress of the dreaded disease. He no longer could breathe without assistance, and pneumonia was becoming a distinct possibility.
    Steve was finding it very hard to sleep. He was forced to confront his situation almost constantly. Without the occasional break with sleep, he was forced to spend all of his time thinking. Thinking about his future—death, or try to lose himself in memories of the former good times.
    Death no longer scared him. He hoped it would come soon. He longed to find out the ultimate mystery.
    “What’s next?” he thought.”Would Jesus meet him and tell him he didn’t pass the muster? Then would the Devil escort him to Hell? Then again, maybe this is it and the Atheists are correct. I guess, no one knows for sure except for those 100 billion.”
    Steve’s condition continued to worsen, he developed pneumonia and the doctors called Sue and told her the time was near.
    Steve’s waiting room was filled with family and friends as it looked like Steve would soon pass.
    His consciousness began to come and go. His breathing was now becoming very erratic with occasional long pauses.
    His vision cleared and he was back in high school standing next to his locker. The hallway was filled with students hurriedly moving on to their next class. Lockers were quickly opened and then slammed shut. It seemed so real. He remembered this exact moment. The smell, the sounds, even the touch—he knew he was really there.
    Suddenly, she appeared, brushing his arm as she walked by. His first love, although she would never know. Steve’s heart skipped several beats. He froze and his eyes followed her every step until she disappeared into the classroom. He felt the heaviness and pain in his stomach as his realization of how unattainable and forever distant she would always be.
    A hundred unrelated thoughts filled Steve’s mind, then one moment from the past pushed its way to the forefront.
    A dreary hospital waiting room, and Sue was sitting next to him.
    “She’s finally at peace.”
    “I know. I just feel guilty.”
    “It’s ok,” said Sue.
    A nurse entered the room.
    “You may go in now, and stay as long as you like.”
    Steve entered the room. His mother’s cold, lifeless body lay there in front of him. There were no tears, just acceptance. “Her last years were miserable,” Steve thought, “Dad’s death, and then her rapid decline. I wish we could have been closer. I just didn’t like her very much.
    My parents were poor they couldn’t give me much. I didn’t dislike them for that; it was their total lack of encouragement, and guidance.”
    Tears now ran down his cheeks, as the thought of fifty years of someone in his life now gone. He realized that in a relatively short time when all her immediate kin are gone, her simple and unaccomplished life will soon be completely forgotten as if she had never existed.
    Total blackness obliterated the scene. He no longer felt pain or anything, just complete contentedness and warmth. He was aware that he was now hovering over his own body. He saw the monitor now flatlining and everyone in the room consoling Sue. All of Steve’s family were crowded into his room, including his youngest grandson, Tim.
    Steve had never felt such inner peace. He knew what lay ahead, and looked forward to it. Finally, it all made sense, perfect sense.
    “Father, I know. It’s all so simple, why didn’t we understand.”
    After one more glance in Sue’s direction, Steve knew it was time, and he was drawn away.
    Tim suddenly pointed up and yelled, “Papa”.

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