Herb Meets His Maker... Maybe

Herb Meets His Maker…Maybe

                                             “Which door will it be?”

                                                                 -Monty Hall

“Anything else I can get you, Herb?”

 “How about a six-pack of Miller Lite and a couple of dancing girls, Sally? Oh, and put the Packers winning the 1^st Superbowl on TV.”

 “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Nurse Ratched.”

“Very funny, Herb.”

Knowing in advance that you are dying adds a little extra misery to the event. Herb had known for the last three weeks that he was dying, and at this point, he just wanted to get it over with. He had always hoped for a quick, easy exit out of this world, but the advance notice did afford time for goodbyes, reflection, and… well, some worrisome anticipation.  

It does seem strange that many, if not most, people wait until the end to contemplate whether there is something after the end. Herb was speed-thinking as he looked at the darkening sky outside his window while pondering the possibilities: yes, Peggy Lee, that is all there is- the “end” really is the end; or there is a Heaven, but you’re not a candidate; or the Heavenly angels await you with open arms.

Herb figured there was no need to worry about the iconic pop star’s pessimistic outlook on life. If there is nothing after this life, what difference does anything make?  There also wasn’t a whole lot he could do at this point of the game about the other possibilities, but he could at least imagine and evaluate the likely outcomes, and of course, worry about it. If there were an afterlife, and drawing on his Catholic upbringing, Herb concluded that if he did more good things than bad things during his life, he was Heaven-bound.

Herb’s accounting background suggested a spreadsheet approach to the problem. Write down the good things he had done in his life and then list the bad things. A straight numbers comparison should give him a pretty good idea of his final destination. He went for the little red button.

“Sally, could you bring me a pen and a pad of paper? Make that a pencil.”

Buzzing for help from Sally was one of the few pleasures left for Herb in this world. She was a pleasant sort, and her sense of humor rivaled his.

“Here you go, Herb. If you’re writing your Will, can I have your Badgers hat?”

“I’ve already thought of you, Sally. I’m leaving you my bedpan.”

“Oh, thank you, Herb. How sentimental! I’m about to tear up.”

Smiles are hard to come by in such an atmosphere, but they are always welcome.

“And don’t be chewing the erasers off the end of your pencil.”

“I never use the eraser. I don’t make mistakes.”

“Right.”

Sally had seen them come, and she had seen them go. They all go. She was about to tear up just like she often did when she ended her shift. This patient was special,  and every day she feared he might not make it until the next.

“Herb…”

“Yes?”

Sally and Herb had made an unspoken pact. Hold off on the sadness until he is gone and live the moments remaining.

“I… shoot… I forgot what I was going to say.”

Herb knew, but he could still joke about it.

“I may be losing my body, Sally, but it looks like you’ve already lost your mind.”

“See you tomorrow, Herb.”

Sally hoped she did, and she hoped she didn’t. She never wanted anyone to die, but she hated to see the suffering. She loved to see Herb, but she hated to see him in his condition.  There was no answer. Sally didn’t know what she wanted.

Herb went to work on his lists. A review of his grade school years revealed little of consequence- things like shoving a kid off the slide during recess, copying off Susy Larson’s paper during a math test, and trying to sneak a peek down Jennifer Carter’s top.

High school- turned in an old paper of his brother’s as his own, frequently “misled” his parents as to his whereabouts, beer parties, and trying to sneak a peak down a now fully developed Jennifer Larson’s top.

College- skipping classes, “misled” parents as to his “necessary” expenses, and drinking to excess on many occasions.

All entries were relatively harmless according to the Good Book, and Herb was feeling good about his chances. Weak hands and sleepy eyes. Herb put down the pencil.

He was still asleep with his list next to him when Sally entered the room the next morning. She was tempted to see what Herb had been writing, but she would not betray their friendship. The movement in the room awakened him, and with his eyes still closed, Herb smiled as the fragrance told him it was Sally.

“If you’re a burglar, you’re going to be really disappointed. I‘ve got nothing.”

Sally smiled. The poor guy is lying there, most likely in pain, fully aware that death will soon be calling, and he makes an effort to give her something to smile about. Usually, a tear shows up on her way out of the room. Today it was close to making an early appearance.

“Did you finish whatever you had to work on yesterday?”

Herb couldn’t remember. That comes with the life being drained out of you. He saw the paper beside him.

“Oh… I guess not. I’ve still got years to cover.”

 “Years to cover?”

Herb looked at Sally for a moment. He had only known her for a few weeks, yet he felt a certain closeness. He trusted her.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s next for me if there is something after …well, you know.”

Sally knew. That was the business she dealt in, but she never wanted to hear or speak the words.

“And you’re figuring that out on a piece of paper?”

Herb struggled to sit up as Sally tucked a pillow behind him.

“Yes, exactly. See, I’m writing down all the bad things I’ve done in life and then all the good things. More good than bad, and St. Peter will be waiting to welcome me… assuming there is a St. Peter at Heaven’s gate… and assuming there is a Heaven.”

Sally looked at Herb with a skeptical eye and then down at his list.

“You’re not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t suppose I could see your list.”

Trust again… and no one else to share his thoughts with.

“Ok, but no laughing.”

“I’ll try.”

Sally smiled as she read Herb’s chronicle of bad behavior.

“Wow, Herb, you were a real rebel. You’ve got some nice script ideas here for Criminal Minds or maybe The Sopranos.”

“Very funny.”

“Herb, I don’t think this is how this sort of thing works, but you’ll be ok. I’m sure you’ve led a good life.”

“I don’t know. I still have most of my adult life to go through. There could be some rough spots there.”

“I’ll bet. What did you do? Fudge on your taxes? A little jay walking? Oh, my God! Don’t tell me you tore the little tag off your pillow.”

Now Sally was laughing.

“Tear the tag off your pillow. You have to admit it, Herb, that is funny. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Don’t do anything bad while I’m gone. I don’t want to have to bring you more paper.”

Pencil in hand, Herb contemplated his later years. It was all blended together in nearly unrecognizable segments. He recalled the advice his Mother gave him. When tackling a complicated subject, start with an outline. It will give you the project structure. The outline was already there- the Ten Commandments.

1-     No fake Gods. Herb figured he was ok with this one. He felt lucky it didn’t say he had to believe in God in the first place.

2-     Don’t take the name of the Lord in vain. Herb never fully understood this back at St. John’s Catholic grade school, but he knew amplifying his cussing with “God” or “Jesus Christ” was a prohibited misuse. His violations likely exceeded the total output of an entire barroom of drunken sailors so this one was worrisome.

3-     Keep Holy the Sabbath. Except for occasional appearances at Christmas and Easter, and a funeral here and there, Herb hadn’t been to church in more than forty years.

4-     Honor your father and mother. Oh yeah, Herb was a good son, and he knew he nailed that one.

5-     Thou shall not kill. Check.

6-     No adultery. Herb never married so he never had the chance to cheat on a wife, and on the flip side, Herb and “handsome” had never been used in the same sentence, so the opportunity to bed another man’s wife never arose.

7-     Thou shall not steal. He never actually stole anything… but there were a few instances of cutting corners or slight exaggerations on his tax returns. And he wasn’t completely forthcoming about the condition of a couple of cars he sold along the way. It sounds like at least a violation of the spirit of the law to Herb.

8-     Thou shall not bear false witness. A few silly little white lies here and there but nothing of import.

9-     Thou shall not covet your neighbor’s wife. Guilty. Herb lusted after his golf partner’s wife for years.

10- Thou shall not covet your neighbor’s goods. Guilty. His next-door neighbor drove a Porsche.

Tabulate. Good: 1,4,5, 6, and 8.      Bad: 2,3,7,9, and 10.  

The review of his adherence to the Ten Commandments offered little resolution for Herb as he was even on the scoreboard, five to five. He was back at the starting point in his effort to determine his ultimate fate. With the pain and discomfort that comes with a deteriorating body, Herb wasn’t so much lamenting leaving this life behind as he was consumed by what came next.  

Herb was confident he had not committed a deal-breaker, or mortal sin in the vernacular of the Catholic church, that would ban him from Heaven. Now he had to consider if he had wracked up enough good points to enjoy an eternity of Heavenly bliss. After ten minutes, Herb gave the blank sheet of paper in front of him a worrisome look. He struggled to come up with something “good”, something extra, that he had done in his life. No shoveling neighbors’ sidewalks, no blood donations, no heroic human or animal rescues, no coaching little kids, and no contributions to the church. Herb didn’t even buy Girl Scout cookies. This was troubling. He’d have to give this side of the equation further thought.

With all the pain meds Herb was taking, sleep visited him on and off throughout the day. Electrons were firing and misfiring jostling brain cells every which way but straight, and disturbing images began to emerge. Languishing in the fires of Hell as so graphically described by Sister Agnes in horrifying detail suddenly burst into the picture. The possible outcomes became nothing, Heaven, or Hell.

Sally spoke softly.

“Are you awake, Herb?”

“I guess.”

“Are you going to eat, or do you want me to take your tray?”

Life-sustaining nutrition was a contradiction of sorts for someone in Herb’s condition. He thought about the point of it all with every spoonful of his soft food diet.

“I didn’t even know it was there. I’ll poke around at it for a while… even though it looks like the mush Grandpa would throw at the pigs back on the farm.”

“Herb…”

“Sally, you bring me a cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate malt and you get the Badgers hat.”

That combo was Herb’s favorite, and just six months ago that’s exactly what the kid brought to his car at the drive-in on the outskirts of town.

“If you bring it in on roller skates, I’ll throw in my slippers.”

“Dream on, Herb.”

“Sally, I wanted to ask you something. Isn’t it a little depressing working in a place like this? I mean… seriously, you don’t have a lot of success stories here. None of your patients.. get better.”

Sally looked at Herb for a moment. She had not seen this face before.

“It can be hard, of course, but I look at it this way, Herb. What if I weren’t here? What if places like this didn’t exist? It could all be so much worse.”

“Worse” was hard for Herb to imagine.

“I guess. Sally, what happens to people when they… leave here?”

“Well, the family will make the arrangements, and the funeral home…”

“No. I don’t mean that. I mean… is there… an afterlife for them?”

“You’ve been working on your list again, haven’t you?”

“Yep, but before I decide which way I’m going, I suppose I should figure out if there is somewhere to go to in the first place. I mean, is there anything after this life, good or bad? What do you think, Sally?”

“Of course, there is, Herb.”

“Which must mean you believe in God.”

“Yes, I believe.”

“I can never understand that one, Sally. How do people believe in God, I mean, truly believe?”

Sally struggled to come up with the best way to help ease her friend’s mind.

“I look at it from a different way, Herb. How can people not believe?”

Herb looked puzzled.

“Look at the world around us, Herb, and I don’t mean the wonders of nature, the complexities of life, or the dazzling display of stars that fill the night sky. For me, it’s real simple. How did any of this stuff get here in the first place? Forget the evolution part. Before any of that, where did the material that makes up anything come from? How and why can anything exist? There has to be a higher power that we can’t comprehend. For me, that’s God.”

“ I never thought of it that way.”

Sometimes humor has an uncanny knack for working its way into a situation. Herb’s eye caught the stainless steel bedpan next to his bed and laughed.

“So, Sally, are you telling me that my bedpan here is living proof there is a God?”

Sally smiled as she contemplated the most unfortunate of teaching tools that just crossed Herb’s mind.

“That is exactly what I’m trying to tell you, Herb. Think about it.”

Herb’s eyes spent the rest of the afternoon bouncing around from reruns of Gunsmoke and The Andy Griffith Show to his bedpan and his list while his sleepy mind was racing in and out of everywhere- his Mom and Dad, high school beer parties, wasting away in his cubicle at work, his classroom at St. John’s, hamburgers and fries, Jennifer Carter, and a sleek red Porsche. Herb had been a fan of the old TV show, “Let’s Make a Deal”, and the image of three doors kept slipping in and out of focus. Sister Agnes and a smiling Monty Hall were standing in front of the doors which were labeled 1-Heaven, 2-Hell, and 3-Nothing. Sister Agnes and Monty Hall were whispering to each other and every so often the memorable game show host would shout out, “Which will it be, Herb? Door Number One, Two, or Three?”

Herb was thrashing around in his bed and mumbling incoherently when Sally entered the room.

“Herb! Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I guess, I’m ok. I was dreaming. I was on the old ‘Let’s Make a Deal’ TV show. I was dressed up as a chicken to get noticed so I’d be on the show.”

“I can believe that.”

“There were three doors labeled Heaven, Hell, and nothing. They were waiting for me, Sally.”

“Who was waiting for you?”

“Monty Hall and Sister Agnes, one of my nuns from grade school. I think they were going to tell me which door to go through. I was scared, Sally. I didn’t know where I’d be going. Sister Agnes was stone-faced, and Monty Hall was smiling. I didn’t know what to make of that. I was scared to death.”

Herb thought about that one.

“I guess I was scared after death.”

This situation was not addressed in Nursing School. Sally searched for a meaningful and hopefully helpful response.

“I don’t want to be sick and old, Sally. I didn’t have a spectacular life, but it was good enough for me. I would just like to know there’s something after this, something more. I want to believe, but I just can’t get there. I wish I would have given this all more thought sooner.”

“Herb, there are theologians and philosophers who spend their whole lives on these questions, and they don’t have the answers. But here’s the deal, Herb. I don’t know that what you think matters so much, because I believe. I know there’s a God and I know there’s a Heaven, so that’s where you’re going whether you think it or not.”

 Herb laughed.

“I appreciate that, Sally. Let’s hope you’re right.”

She paused at the doorway on her way out and looked back at Herb. A little tear blurred her vision, and she had trouble saying the words.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Herb.”

Herb picked up his list, took a look at his bedpan, smiled, and laid his head back into his pillow. The three doors quickly reappeared, but his time they were moving around like cups in a shell game. He struggled to read the lettering on the doors, but the images were blurred and moving too fast.  He was walking toward the doors. He tried to stop but couldn’t. He didn’t want to move, but Sister Agnes beckoned and his pace quickened. He was terrified as Sister Agnes raised her pointer and turned toward the doors. Herb took one last deep breath, hoped for the best, and took a peek at which way she was pointing.