Me Too!

Author © Scott D. Zachary

Carol had called me now and again—oh, maybe once every two or three months—to check on our mutual software client and me. My super-positivity rarely dimmed during that time frame; although, Carol always happened to call when I wasn’t quite my usual zesty self. I wasn’t depressed on those occasions, just a little off-key. By the time we said our good-byes, Carol invariably hoisted my spirits sky-high. She had that effect on me every single time. A fountain of joy, Carol continually displayed the utter wonderment of a giddy child on Christmas morning.

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       Carol’s once robust physique now resembles a rolled-up towel stashed beneath the sheet. Her glowing face has withered into emaciation from the rapidly advancing cancer.

       I walked to her bedside and cupped her frail hand in mine. “Hello, Carol. It’s Scott.” I felt her hand almost imperceptibly squeeze my fingers. “I miss your phone calls and your sunshiny voice.” Carol didn’t open her eyes, nor did she speak.

       Two of Carol’s friends, who had been sitting quietly on the other side of the bed, introduced themselves and recounted their close friendship with Carol since first grade. One of the ladies, Archer, suggested that we take Carol out into the garden to enjoy the beautiful afternoon. The Hospice nurse came and lifted Carol into a wheelchair. I wheeled her out to the patio, nestled in a botanical setting.

       Carol’s spindly, discolored legs exuded pain. I knelt and softly caressed them while the three of us reminisced about Carol’s better days. After massaging her legs for some time, I challenged, “How’s come you never let me play with your legs like this before, Carol?”

       To our amazement, Carol chuckled.

       Archer raised the ante. “She’s gettin’ loose!”

       Carol laughed the hearty laugh to which I had become accustomed, opened her eyes, and then slowly closed them. Archer said that was the first time Carol had opened her eyes for days.

       As Carol’s friends were leaving, I asked Carol, “What would you like for dinner? I’m sure Atlanta has anything a person could want to eat within a short drive.”

       She didn’t answer, so I suggested Chinese.

       Carol squeaked her first word that day, “Okay.”

       “Follow me,” volunteered Archer. “My favorite Chinese restaurant is right on my way.” As we left, I notified the nurses that I’d be providing Carol’s dinner.

       Thank goodness Archer led me through that rat race. She honked several times, pointed me into a shopping center parking lot, and waved adieu. I parked my truck, marched into the Chinese restaurant, and picked up a to-go menu. I looked into the Oriental fellow’s eyes and unflinchingly ordered, “Give me one of everything and a dozen ice-cold Cokes.”

       The man searched my face for some hint of jest. Finding none, he burst into a brilliant smile. “Yes, sir!” he blurted and dashed to the kitchen.

       The Lord smiles upon bumbling adventurers. Moments later, I spotted a police car in the shopping center parking area. The gracious officer saved the day by escorting me back to the Hospice Center.

       Oversized bags slumping my shoulders, I passed the nurses’ station and asked them to please get Carol ready to eat the Chinese buffet I brought. A nurse came to the room, washed Carol’s hands and face, and propped her up in bed while I prepared Carol’s supper. I opened all the entrees and diced a teaspoon of each on her plate. With every tidbit that I spooned between her lips, Carol chomped like a hungry gerbil and choked it down. I tipped the ice-cold Coke at her lips to help her wash down the remnants. Each time I started to lower the soda, Carol beckoned as would a famished guppy. She gulped and gulped.

       “I like to drink till it stings my throat,” I shared.

       Carol softly exclaimed, “Me too!”

       I sat on the edge of Carol’s bed after dinner, caressing her delicate hand as I prayed aloud. “Lord, receive this wonderful lady into Your bosom. Free my precious friend Carol from this pain-wracked body, and wrap her in Your tender loving arms forever, glorious Jesus.”

       I kissed her forehead, whispering, “Thank you, Carol. I had a wonderful day!”

       Carol opened her eyes, flexing her abdomen. “Me too!” she exerted.

       “Carol, you’re going on a fabulous journey with our Creator for eternity. Remember what the Apostle Paul told us: ‘No one has imagined the wonders God has prepared for those who love Him.’ ” Gently squeezing her hand, “I love you, Carol.” I pointed toward her gaze. “And Jesus loves you, too!”

       Carol smiled and closed her eyes one last time.

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I returned home to my 47-acre spread. I was sitting in my pickup truck at the crest of one of the big hills, contemplating possibilities when my phone rang.

“Scott, this is Archer. I called to let you know that Carol has passed away.”

“Thanks, Archer. She was a wonderful lady. Carol always happened to call me when my spirits were a little out of kilter, and she invariably lofted me on top of the world.”

“Scott, whatever Carol did for you was nothing compared to what you did for her. Carol was always a faithful woman, but she had lost her faith in God toward the end.”

“That’s understandable.”

“We couldn’t give up hope that Carol would get better,” Archer lamented. “We never talked to her about death, and we couldn’t give her to the Lord the way you did. You restored Carol’s faith, Scott; we could see the peaceful acceptance on her face.”

We were quiet for a time.

Archer sniffled. “Carol never opened her eyes again after you left, Scott. The only communication from her was a smile when we spoke your name.”

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I don’t know how Archer knew about my ushering Carol into heaven. I suppose the nurses witnessed our prayers while monitoring Carol and relayed their observations to Archer. I know the nurses were delighted to take care of the banquet of left-overs. And I know there is no greater privilege than what I experienced that day with Carol.