On March 15, 1996, I was admitted to Sacré Coeur Hospital in Geneva, Switzerland. Adam and I had been in Athens together since the ninth and we had six days to ourselves before I collapsed and he insisted I go to the hospital. It was on my second day there that I met a priest who spoke to me, because he was visiting a dying friend, and we were both sitting in the hallway outside of the X Ray rooms. I was in a wheelchair. He was holding a Bible.
Adam left, promising to return, saying he had to deal with something. I found out later, much later, that he was in Paris, trying to get this stone that would have saved me. While he was gone, the priest visited me twice a day. I thought he wanted to save my soul. I’m a very lapsed Catholic. I asked him if he would give me last rites, when the time came. He said he would. I thanked him.
On March 25th, Adam came back. I had been moved to Intensive Care. He demanded that the doctors remove all of the machines, except the oxygen. I agreed. They left us alone for hours. He anointed me with myrrh and changed my gown. I was cold, so he climbed into the bed with me and held me. I died. He stayed a while, and he left. The priest came in to intone last rites.
I had ten days there, in the hospital. That was eleven years ago. Today. Eleven…today. The priest is dead. Adam’s gone. I doubt very much that he remembers. He’s busy. But on March 15, eleven years ago, I started the rite of death. I died. Eleven years ago.
That’s the story. No descriptive adjectives or flowery prose. No foggy flashbacks. No emotional crap. No angst. No emo breast beating. The facts. The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Eleven years. Lucky eleven.
The laugh? Oh, sorry. Forgot. So, the day I was admitted to the hospital…3/15/96…Adam is filling out forms and they shove him out of the room to insert this urinary catheter, because I can’t even walk to the bathroom anymore. And the male nurse told me a joke to distract me.
Jesus and Moses were in heaven, fishing from a rowboat. While fishing, they began to reminisce about the miracles they had performed when they were on earth. Just to see if they still had the knack, they each decided to perform one of their old miracles.
Moses stood up, raised his arms and the water parted, allowing the boat to gently sink to the bottom of the pond. He then lowered his arms and the water slowly rose again, bringing the boat with it.
Jesus said, "Pretty good, Mo. Now I'll try." He stepped out of the boat and began walking across the pond. After about two steps, he began to sink. Luckily, Moses was able to grab him and haul him back into the boat before he went under.
"Wow!" Moses exclaimed. "What do you suppose happened to you?"
"Aw, Mo," Jesus replied, "I should have known better than to try that one. The last time I did that, I didn't have these holes in my feet.”
When Adam came back in the room, I was laughing so hard that I was crying. Sobbing, actually. He didn’t get the joke. I told it wrong. Might have been the painkillers.
Eleven years later, it’s still a damn funny joke.
I didn’t have these holes in my feet.
Good stuff.
Anyway…that’s what happened. Eleven years ago. Just the facts. Oh…and one funny joke.
Thanks for listening.
Alexa Bond
Highlander
611 words
Based on RP and Canon Events