It’s 5:00 am.
While under the influence of the Spirit I thought . . .
(Inner Monologue)
Why do I feel so funny?
What have I eaten today? When is the last time I have eaten?
Hmm . . . 12 hours.
So my blood sugar is low. No need to check it. It’s in the 50s when I feel like this,
You need to drink a coke and eat something.
Ugh. Will I or won’t I vomit?
Okay, I’ll drink a coke and eat a sandwich.
My mind is now silent . . .
I think I will lie down rest for a moment. And then I think I’ll drink a coke, maybe even two.
To weak now to stand, I fall on the bed.
Weak as I may be, my mind is clear.
Fuck Coke. Fuck Sandwich too.
Sleep. When I sleep I’m not in pain.
I lift my head and nod.
Sleep.
Most nights a different voice says: Wake up. Think of Polly. Think of your family, your grandchildren. Don’t be a selfish prick. You owe it to them to suffer til the bitter end.
Tonight, this voice is silent. My mind is clear. Isn’t all death selfish? Do I owe anyone my continued existence? All I want is for this god damn pain to stop. You know like when you are under anesthesia. Wonderful, pain-free, thought-free sleep.
Sleep.
They say true love endures to the end. Almost, as in the love I share with Polly. But on this night, memories will have to suffice. I want the pain to stop. I want the nightlong-wrestling-with-pain-just-to get-an-hour-or-two-of-sleep to stop.
Sleep.
Just let nature take its course. No one will know but us. Who is talking to us, or is it just me? I’m confused, yet my mind is clear.
Pain.
Sleep.
Soon, nature wins this titanic struggle. Pain always knew that in the end nature wins. Nature always wins.
Sleep.
Death—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)
Finally, I have found God.
The one God we all seek in the end
Her name is sleep.
For in her kingdom, tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)
So on this night, with a clear mind, I selfishly choose blessed wonderful pain-free sleep. Tonight must be about me.
Sleep.
(Polly enters my thought)
I feel someone gently pushing on my side, calling out my name, asking if I’m okay.
No, I’m not okay. My blood sug. . . ar is uh . . . low . . . I need a Coke.
I’m cold, I mean really really cold. Unbeknownst to me, I had slept for hours, sweating the whole time, a sweat soaked bed witness to the deed. I’m freezing, as my glucose level continues to drop. Death draws ever closer.
I put my heavy blue terry robe on and lie back down. Just a little rest. Can’t I at least have that tonight?
Someone covers me with another blanket.
You need to drink something. If not a Coke, how about orange juice?
There’s the gentleness of love in her voice, tinged with concern, yet she knows I have long talked of this day, even more so recently. Is it not his choice, and not mine?
I just want to sleep. I’m tired. I can’t stand the pain, the incessant suffering.
I could argue mental incompetency or dementia. Don’t my wants and needs matter?, Polly wonders.
Not at this final moment in time. We all will one day stand at this very point.
A stifled cry, a soft voice, reminiscent of the girl I met fifty years ago, says I understand.
I just want to . . .
Tears gone, crying gone, pain gone. (Revelation 21:4 kinda)
Bruce Gerencser, 69, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 48 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
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