The Living and The Dead

Thinking back, Carl was not only the first human being that I saw die, he was the essence of all that was good and just.

When I was 17 and finishing my Junior year of high school I was given a chance,the sort of chance that usually ends with greatness,whatever the hell that really is. A doctor in my hometown had listened to my interest in medicine at length. The subject was often the subject of debate and I studied medicine with the vigor usually reserved for beer and pornography by a 17 year old. Every system of fact related to medicine became my life passion and this was discussed at length with the good doctor. He made me understand that I could be like him. After discussing me with his colleagues the decision was made that I would become a grunt at a local hospital, a very large and ominous campus of buildings named after a local doctor who was rumored to have built the entire system on illegal abortion in the days before Roe v. Wade. Either way, at the end of May,1988 I became the hospital’s youngest paid employee in it’s history and I walked away from my youth. Forever.

I learned to minimize and contain so much of what I saw,mostly in an effort to keep up with the others who were medical students home for summer and seasoned healthcare workers. If it is possible to imagine horror and a fast understanding of it,that became my true job,no matter what the job description read. Whatever a rational human being fears about death I became master of. Seeing hundreds of people die before your 18th birthday will do that for you. I reminded myself that St Thomas Aquinas said “Surround yourself by death daily” and this became my mantra. I was 29 when I learned that he meant death of the spirit,metaphorical death. I’m an asshole like that. Either way, I’ve grown to understand that these two types of death are distinct and that often both are equally tragic.

Despite the fact that death was a constant enveloper of my learning, I was lucky enough to pull of some decent tricks in my three years as an aspiring doctor and hospital worker. I became the youngest in my job to specialize, a year and two days after I first entered the profession. All the doctors loved me and were amused by my youth. Most treated me like a 2nd or 3rd year medical student. Most even offered some sort of sublime respect, respect that I supposed ruined me in some ways in that I never learned to take shit from anyone less than these men,who were my heroes. I was a favorite among the administration wherever I went and my reputation walked before me. I’ve had jugular spray in my eye,gray matter on my shoe, and held the hand of a 38 year old woman who died from a heart attack as she cried and lay naked and dying beside me. I have treated children who were fucked for life but too naïve to be anything but brave. I held a dead child in my hands. I’ve seen old people die scared. I had a 15 year old beg me to let her die.A middle age man who was dying of AIDS and weighed 70 pounds sang Sam Cooke for me. When I think about it, the hair on my neck stands up,17 years later.

No matter what I will ever live to see,nothing will ever be any more difficult that Carl Knighton. Carl was my friend for three years. He was a tall, and very nice looking. He was one of the best people I’ve known before or since. Less than a week before he died, we rode in his car blasting Aerosmith and laughing our asses off. We were mackin’ on every girl that was hot and practicing our skills for the hot girls on the fat ones. Five days later, I drove up on his totaled car. Carl was pulled from the car by a grown man and we all surrounded him. He was dying, the victim of a head-on collision with a drunk driver. Carl was the first person I saw die. I visited his family a few times for the next four years,but I came to understand that I was not helping them. Either way, Carl was the introduction to a book of secrets that I hope none of you ever understand.

I never saw Carl angry. When we got a beating for spitballing the wall in the eighth grade, he and I were side by side in the principal’s office,hands on the desk,asses in the air. Just before the man brought the pain, Carl looked at me and laughed.Mouth wide open and silent,he just made the face as if he was laughing aloud as principal Nichols began wailing ass with his massive hickory paddle.

I have carried that face with me through miles of shit.There will probably be more shit to walk through and I will take it with me there. I love you Carl and I won’t ever let you die.

Fuck You, Principal Nichols.