Run Through the Tape

Run Through the Tape

“You should laugh every day.”   - Jim Valvano

It’s hard to make a hospital room look homey. Too much white- walls, ceilings, sheets, even the attire of the doctors and nurses. And a little heavy on metal- the frames of the bed and chairs, cabinets, dinner tray, door, the TV bracket, the light fixture above, and the steel pole holding the bags that occasionally pumped life-sustaining and pain-killing fluids into Carl. Nothing soft and colorful, a scarcity of anything that would remind one of wood. A square box designed to treat the body without the comforts of home. There was but one bright spot in this bleak setting- Carl.

“Good morning, Carl.”

“Good morning, Nurse Ratched. Take any blood from any sleeping patients last night to sell on the Black Market?”

“No, but I did draw the short straw this morning so you’re on my patient list again today.”

“Great. I get the only nurse who keeps my bedpan in the freezer.”

Laurel and Hardy, Martin and Lewis, Abbott and Costello, Carl and “Nurse Ratched”, known to hospital staff as Catherine. She never had a patient like Carl, and he never had a nurse like Catherine. It was a true symbiotic relationship. Carl was a funny guy his whole life, and it wasn’t often that he’d encounter someone that could match his wit and sense of humor. Many of Catherine’s patients were on Death Row, and she needed someone or something to occasionally lift her spirits. God will often put people where they need to be.

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Visiting someone who is dying is tough. It’s even more challenging when the person knows he’s dying, and he knows that you know he’s dying. That can make conversation difficult. There are exceptions.

“How’s he doing today, Catherine?”

“He’s a special guy, Tom. I’ve never seen such an attitude in anyone in his circumstance. He’s flipped the script. He keeps me going.”

Tom smiled.

“He’s been the same ever since high school.”

“Hard to believe he was an accountant. He should have been a standup comic.”

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“Hey, Carl. How come you don’t have the Cubs game on?”

Normalcy is what Tom aimed for, but there need to be certain guardrails. Never say things to a dying man like, “How are you doing?” or “It sure is a beautiful day”, or “How do you feel?” It’s a difficult task, but try to keep it in the area of the ordinary and appropriate.

“Crap! I forgot.”

Carl grabbed his remote, the one thing left in life he still had any control over, and turned on the game.

“Damn, they’re down six to nothing, and it’s only the 2^nd inning. Since they only win a World Series every hundred years, I might not see another one.”

“Shit, from what I hear, you may not even see another game.”

“The sports gods will finally put me out of the misery of being a Cubs fan.”

“Nurse Ratched says you should have been a standup comic. Maybe a little late for that, but I’ll check around to see if anyone is in the market for a lying-in-bed comic.”

“Thanks.”

Best friends since high school where Carl was the quarterback on the football team. It was an unfortunate circumstance that Carl’s room came with a view of the high school and the surrounding athletic fields. Two short blocks away, but an eternity in time. It broke Tom’s heart whenever he came to visit Carl and found him sitting in his chair and peering out at the scene below. He knew what was floating around in Carl’s mind. Tom would join Carl at the window.

“I remember it well, Carl. The north end zone, playing Lincoln for the league title. I still can’t believe I was able to catch that duck of a pass you threw to me to win the game.”

“Oh, my God, Tom. There you go again. That pass was on a dime. The real miracle was that you somehow managed to catch it. I think it got stuck in your facemask. I guess even a blind squirrel finds a bale of hay once in a while.”

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Nurse Ratched was disturbed to see the empty bed and Carl in his chair next to the window.

“Dammit, Carl! I told you not to move to your chair without help.”

“Oh, like I’m going to worry about skinning my knee or something?”

“You could pull a tube out, or fall and hit your head. Well, that might actually knock some sense into you. And I don’t want to see any more beer cans in your waste basket. That friend of yours can be as difficult as you are.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Twenty-three years. Why?”

“Your husband must be a saint to put up with you for all those years. I’ve only been under your thumb for a week, and I’m already going woo-woo. Who do I call to try to get a new nurse in here?”

“Good luck with that. I wasn’t going to tell you, but some of the nurses on this wing have been circulating a ‘Do not resuscitate petition’ for you. You are so lucky to have me.”

The giveaway smile, two of them in fact.

“Blessed.”

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“Jesus Christ, Carl, did they stick some new tubes in you?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“Listen, Carl, on the way here, I overheard a couple of doctors talking about how they’re getting a little overcrowded here.”

“So?”

“So, if a guy in a white coat with a rifle asks you to step outside the back of the hospital, don’t go with him.”

“With my luck, the guy would probably just wing me, and I’d be worse off than I am now. I’d ask you to do it, but if you can’t hit a freaking deer, you’d probably miss me too.”

“Hey, that was a long shot and the damn thing was on the run. You’d be a piece of cake. Hell, I’d even give you a head start.”

“I can see it now, me sprinting through the parking lot, dragging my IV thing on wheels around with my hospital gown flapping in the breeze, and you emptying an AK-47 without hitting a damn thing.”

“I’ll take that bet. I’ll see if Nurse Ratched can set it up for us.”

“Maybe we could charge admission.”

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“Man, Carl, there are a lot of really pretty nurses working at this place. How did you manage to get stuck with Ruth Buzzy.”

“She’s ok. And besides, they did have some hotties coming in here, but they all kept hitting on me. I told them it was getting to be annoying, so they sent the old married doll in. They figured I’d be safer.”

“Right.”

“I’m not kidding. They’d line up at the door and tell me they needed to practice giving hernia exams. You can understand that a guy like me has to be careful. Women have always been trying to take advantage of me. That goes all the way back to high school.”

“I don’t quite remember it that way. In fact, the rumor was that your mom paid Suzy Anderson to go with you to Prom.”

“Ha! I had so many girls after me that I remember you following me around just hoping to catch some of my runoff.”

“I’ve got to talk to Nurse Ratched. These meds are messing with your mind.”

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“Hello, Tom, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Good afternoon, Nurse Rat… I mean Catherine. Sorry.”

Nurse Ratched shot a quick glance at Carl who turned his head away and pretended he wasn’t there.

“Tom, I was going through Carl’s paperwork, and I was surprised we don’t have a Health Care Power of Attorney on file for him. That document authorizes someone to make health care decisions for Carl, you know, if he can’t make those decisions himself.”

Carl had been through a lot in the past year, but those words, spoken at this time and in this place, hit him hard. ‘Can’t make those decisions himself.’ What happened? How did all the years pass by so quickly? Propped up in his bed, he could see the 2^nd floor of his high school. A thousand events that took place in that old building ran through his mind. It was troubling for Carl to contemplate the idea he was now less of a person than he once was, unable to make decisions for himself. Sometimes funny gets devoured by reality.

“And Carl wants you to be his health care agent. Is that ok?”

“I guess.”

Tom was also struck by the significance of the document, its serious message underscoring Tom’s condition. We are all but temporary players upon this stage, and Tom was well aware of the fact he and Carl were the same age. The end comes for all of us.

Nurse Ratched went on to describe the purpose and procedures involved in his potential role of Health Care Agent.

“And you would have the authority to discontinue the use of feeding tubes, IV’s, or other life-sustaining devices.”

“Do you have one that says don’t even hook him up in the first place?”

Funny was making a comeback.

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If Carl winced in pain, Tom suffered. If Carl looked sad, Tom felt depressed. If Carl looked out the window, Tom was blocking downfield for his friend. He felt so helpless. How could his friend be lying there, his body eroding from within, and no one could do a thing about it? It’s unsettling when death, the one thing we can be sure of but never speak of, approaches.

“So, these are the Golden Years, Tom?”

Tom smiled and shook his head.

“Do me a favor, Tom.”

“What’s that?”

“Find the guy that coined the phrase ‘The Golden Years’, and kick him in the shins…like a couple of hundred times.”

“You’ve got my word on it.”

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The look on Catherine’s face left no need for comment. The end was near.

“Is he in pain?”

“He never complains. He’s taken a bad turn, Tom. It won’t be long. I’m glad you made it here.”

Tom opened the door slowly, fearing the final meeting. Having known the outcome for months didn’t make the moment any easier. He would soon be saying goodbye to his dear old friend.

Everything was different. The room was quiet and the mood somber as he approached Carl’s bed. Tom felt weak, unsteady, and uncertain as to what to say and how to say it. Carl lie motionless with his eyes closed as Tom remembered his friend as a teammate on his high school football team, his golf partner, his fishing buddy, his friend. It hurt to see the withered shell of the man he once knew

“Carl, it’s me, Tom.”

Carl’s eyes opened slightly, and he turned his head toward Tom.

“Hey, Tom.”

“Carl, I know we joke around about everything all the time, but I want you to know that…”

“Tom, don’t go there.”

The tone was surprisingly stern, and the words were left dangling in Tom’s mind.

“Tom… do you…do you remember our track coach… back in high school?”

Now Carl’s voice was soft, weak, every word spoken with effort.

“Old man Barnes. Sure, why?”

“What did always tell us… before a race?”

“He would tell us to run through the tape.”

“That’s right, Tom… run through the tape. That’s what I want to do… I want to run through the tape. I don’t want… to be talking about death… and a bunch of sad crap now. I want to live until the last moment. I’ve been running this race… for a long time, Tom… and I’m not going to pull up short of the finish line… I want to live until I’m dead… Do you understand?”

Tom closed his eyes and nodded his head.

“I understand.”

“Listen, Tom, I…just might need… a little bit of a push, a little shove…you know… to help get me there. Maybe something funny. Yeah… I don’t think I laughed… about anything today. What do you got?”

Tom reached down deep into his memory bank and pulled out a Golden Oldie.

“Junior year, our regular group at the lunchroom table. Henry Harper said something you found annoying. You got up, walked behind him, and mushed your Suzy Q in his face. You took off like you were running the hundred, and old Henry whipped his plum at you. It missed, hit the wall, and splattered all over the Assistant Principal. Harper was sent to the Principal’s office, and you got off scot-free.”

A smile on Carl’s face as he broke the tape; tears in the eyes of Tom… and Nurse Ratched standing in the doorway.