waiting to be Called

Please Wait to be Called,

the sign said

So I did.

I took a ticket and waited

behind the others

till it was my turn

at the head of the queue

outside the draughty pearly gates

holding my flimsy little ticket

& when, growing impatient,

I stepped forward,

St. Peter held up his hand:

“There seems to be some problem,”

He said.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer,”

I stamped my feet a little

when a white light flashed overhead

& a door opened behind

& I was whooshed back

to the operating theatre where the surgeons

had revived me.

One step from paradise.





pic courtesy of Pinterest,com

The Man Who Lost his Face

I was reading about Dallas Wiens who, while working inside

an hydraulic arm,  brushed against powerlines while painting

a church roof: how God  sizzled through him  but burnt

his face away; the word ‘debridement’ came up, the practice

of removing dead tissue, fat, muscle so a transplant could take place;

and I thought, hey! isn’t that’s what it’s like when you’re burnt

by fast and furious love? the high voltage thrill and fury that knocks

the heart sideways and scars it till the scorched pieces can be debrided,

a lovely and awesome word that suggests a young bride being ripped

from your side: ‘debrided’ , oh wow!

The Parable of the Breathing Tube

kisscc0-parable-of-the-good-samaritan-public-domain-samari-human-characteristics-charity-5b7578126d50d7.8606733315344251064478

“You won’t even know it’s there,” said the surgeon.

“My brother-in-law sure did,” I replied referring to the incident in the ICU which I witnessed.

AS he was coming out of his sleep, he became aware of the tube down his throat and began struggling with it so violently that he had to be held down while he was put back to sleep. He stayed that way for three days.

“You won’t even be aware of it,” the surgeon said, “and if you are you won’t remember.”

I decided to go with that. In the end you have to put your faith in something.

Still, some days later as I was wheeled into the operating theatre, the last conscious thought was of that tube down my throat.

Many hours later as I slowly awoke, I remember the doctor saying, “the breathing tube is out now, you can speak.”

“What breathing tube?” I asked.

The thing is, if you don’t know something has happened to you, has it really happened?

 

* inspired by Billy Mac’s ‘A Daughter’s Love’ from his ‘Superman can’t find a phone booth’ blog

A Half-Van Gogh

Vincent_van_Gogh_-_Self_portrait_with_bandaged_ear_F529

“I am getting a half -Van Gogh,” I say over the phone.

“A half -Van Gogh? What is that?”

“You know how Van Gogh lopped off his left ear after a fit of madness, or so it’s claimed?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m getting half my left ear, the lobe lopped off.”

Silence.

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“It’s cancerous.”

“Oh dear.”

“You said you would love me even if I had half my face missing.”

“I know but …”

“Hello. Hello…”

Ring tone.