'til Hell Puddles Over
The story continues through the eyes and mind of a nine year-old with hearing loss. Still in the hospital recovering from surgery to remove a tumor from above my ankle. Help from above comes to the rescue in my time of need? Er... you decide.
You can read the previous stories here:
(Part 1) (Part 2)
'til Hell Puddles Over
Following the operation, I had never been so nervous as the first time I went for therapy. After spending a few days in bed, sitting up and being placed into a wheelchair made me dizzy.
The female therapist was quite pretty, young with blonde flowing hair. When she lifted me onto the low parallel bars, I nearly vomited on her clean blue uniform. By some divine intervention, I managed to scarf it back down. So much for pride, huh?
When returned to my room, everyone was gone. Joey and Ronny were in the hospital’s school room. Donny was taking his turn under the knife. So the orderlies put me back in bed, then wheeled the bed into the center of the room so I could get a better view of the tv.
As I laid there watching Bullwinkle yet again save Rocky’s tail, this tall dark shadowy figure filled the doorway. A man of the cloth, dressed in black.
The Reverend from my church confused me, especially when he was up on the pulpit. Although Reverend Van preached against my demons, with his shouting, he scared the Bejeezus out of me!
The church, you see, with it’s high ceiling, hardwood floors and wooden pews, affects the acoustics. When you are in a stairwell and the noise echos, well that was what the sermon sounded like through my hearing aid.
“Turn from the devil,” the Reverend’s voice would boom. “Let Jesus lead you from evil! Save yourself, before it’s too late!”
I could hear the pastor’s shouting voice, but just couldn’t distinguish all the wobbling words.
The demons in my head were silenced by turning off my hearing aid. The rest of the service would find me exploring the tall stained glass windows, as light brightened the heavenly figures. By quieting the haunted church, the windows became my sermon. And that ‘off ’ switch became my ‘safe place.’
Knowing about the tumor operation, Reverend Van dropped in at the hospital to chat me up. Alone in the room, confined to the bed, I couldn’t just get up and run. Awe heck, I hadn’t even been issued crutches just yet.
Trapped with no way out, I pulled the sheets up to my chin. I had to face ‘the shouter’ and up close, too! I was so scared, the urge to pee flooded my memory banks. Since the orderlies had temporarily relocated my bed to the center of the room, there was no help button nearby.
In his deep baritone voice, the man in black wanted to explore my spirit. “How are you feeling today, son? God is keeping watch over you!”
I tensely replied, “Uh, yeah, the...the...pretty therapist, um, she’s watchin’ over me......too.”
“Pretty therapist?” he stammered, as his brows furrowed, and eyes darkened.
“Yeah... she’s pretty... so are the nurses!” I answered while struggling to impede the flow. “And if you don’t call one... right now... it’ll be too late... to save... my soul!”
And with that the floodgates burst open, pissing damnation all over myself.
The female therapist was quite pretty, young with blonde flowing hair. When she lifted me onto the low parallel bars, I nearly vomited on her clean blue uniform. By some divine intervention, I managed to scarf it back down. So much for pride, huh?
When returned to my room, everyone was gone. Joey and Ronny were in the hospital’s school room. Donny was taking his turn under the knife. So the orderlies put me back in bed, then wheeled the bed into the center of the room so I could get a better view of the tv.
As I laid there watching Bullwinkle yet again save Rocky’s tail, this tall dark shadowy figure filled the doorway. A man of the cloth, dressed in black.
The Reverend from my church confused me, especially when he was up on the pulpit. Although Reverend Van preached against my demons, with his shouting, he scared the Bejeezus out of me!
The church, you see, with it’s high ceiling, hardwood floors and wooden pews, affects the acoustics. When you are in a stairwell and the noise echos, well that was what the sermon sounded like through my hearing aid.
“Turn from the devil,” the Reverend’s voice would boom. “Let Jesus lead you from evil! Save yourself, before it’s too late!”
I could hear the pastor’s shouting voice, but just couldn’t distinguish all the wobbling words.
The demons in my head were silenced by turning off my hearing aid. The rest of the service would find me exploring the tall stained glass windows, as light brightened the heavenly figures. By quieting the haunted church, the windows became my sermon. And that ‘off ’ switch became my ‘safe place.’
Knowing about the tumor operation, Reverend Van dropped in at the hospital to chat me up. Alone in the room, confined to the bed, I couldn’t just get up and run. Awe heck, I hadn’t even been issued crutches just yet.
Trapped with no way out, I pulled the sheets up to my chin. I had to face ‘the shouter’ and up close, too! I was so scared, the urge to pee flooded my memory banks. Since the orderlies had temporarily relocated my bed to the center of the room, there was no help button nearby.
In his deep baritone voice, the man in black wanted to explore my spirit. “How are you feeling today, son? God is keeping watch over you!”
I tensely replied, “Uh, yeah, the...the...pretty therapist, um, she’s watchin’ over me......too.”
“Pretty therapist?” he stammered, as his brows furrowed, and eyes darkened.
“Yeah... she’s pretty... so are the nurses!” I answered while struggling to impede the flow. “And if you don’t call one... right now... it’ll be too late... to save... my soul!”
And with that the floodgates burst open, pissing damnation all over myself.
* * *
That evening my parents visited.
“Mom, why’s the Reverend traveling way out of his territory to the hospital? Who’s minding the church?”
Smiling, she explained, “That’s what they do, honey. He came all this way just to cheer up one of the flock.”
“Well, he didn’t cheer me at all. He scared the Bejeezus outta me! Again!”
I never did mention what else he scared out of me.
* * *
The church offered little hope, far as I was concerned. If I were to see the light, it would have to come from another source. And I was desperate for some living, breathing inspiration to overcome my demons. It would slap me from an unlikely source.
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