Beyond the Pain

His name was David.

He was a good looking man in his forties, always well dressed with a regal bearing in spite of his disability. He was likely taller than me but I would never know that, for that first time I met him he was confined to an electric wheelchair. I never learned by what magic he operated the wheelchair. I noticed some kind of device protruding from the right arm of the chair but I didn’t know how it worked. Voice commands? Subtle movements of his head? Psychic control? I never asked him, for I was captivated with his story.

I had occasionally seen him around the unit, only occasionally after lunch and supper meals, for he generally ate his meals in his room. I assumed it was because he was embarrassed to be fed like a baby in front of the other patients, I guess I assumed that because he was always dressed in slacks and golf shirts unlike most of us who wore jeans or sweats.

One time, when I was having my right leg manipulated by Kenny, I noticed David lying on the other exercise bed in the physiotherapy room. His wife, or at least I assumed she was his wife, was being taught how to exercise his legs and arms because he could not move them for himself. Sadly it would be a long, long time before David’s wife would be able to apply her new found skills.

It was my last day in the hospital. And, I was eager to get home to my apartment. Nine o’clock had come and gone and my son-in-law still had not arrived to pick me up. Normally I don’t particularly mind waiting. I usually have a book to read. Or, I will just wander around the corridors of my mind enjoying the imaginings conjured up there. Then David arrived. I had never seen him in all the times I had spent in the west waiting area / TV room. When David told his story I finally knew why God had arranged for me to wait.

This is a pre-publication excerpt from CRASH! The final published material may differ from this.

COPYRIGHT 2012 Lyle T. Lachmuth, All Rights Reserved

I do not fear death.

Yet, death dogs my heels. Of course, since Death is the final outcome of life.

I used to believe in eternal life: the notion that I would return after death and forever live on a refurbished planet, watched over by a benevolent God.

I am not sure what I believe anymore. But this I know … I will indeed live forever as part of the energy of the universe. I do not know, if like a ghost, I will be able to communicate with my loved ones. I do not know, if I will be even “concious” of that which is beyond me.

I lived through and beyond a horrendous car crash. That crash and the ensuing recovery changed me forever. I do not fear death.

Maybe in my coma I visited Death’s Kingdom. I do not know. For I remember nothing of my time in ICU.

I only know that after, or sometime during, my 2 months in hospital I do not fear death.

Yet, I am so smitten with grief at the passing of 2 people  in my circles: one, who I never met, except he was obviously in love with my favourite cousin as she was with him; and, two, my good friend Sylvia Rae, 29 years a part of my life.

If I do not fear death. Why the grief?

I guess because I greedily want them still in my life.

But, I know eventually I will think of them without it hurting so god damn much.

OH! And, Cousin Kenny I am still looking for the answer to the question you asked me on your death bed. I think of you often and qoute your sarcastic epigrams.