Nick's Dream

This is the third and final part in the story of Nick's triple-bypass, a reminder of just how imperfect "Intelligent Design" really is.
Nick may be returning to the harmonca and vocal chair as early as this week. Check Geezer Rock for updates as we continue our bullshit journey of love and healing with Nick.
When we last left our hero, he was hallucinating in his intensive care bed. In his heavily medicated mind, he had taken on the diseases and infirmities of all the patients in the ward after dreamily listening to the nursing staff discuss patient charts during shift changes.
Nick: So the doctor came in. And of course, I’ve been listening now to a couple of days of these nurses reviewing my chart, which was in actuality, everybody’s chart. And so my brother came to visit. I said, “Phil, when the doctor comes in, I don’t want you to say a word. “ The doctor comes in. And I start asking him, “are the chambers of my heart functioning right? Is there any sort of this kind of damage or that kind of damage?” And he’s kind of looking at me like “This is awfully technical medical stuff that you’re asking me about.” But he just said, “We got good results. You are going to live another 30 years, if not forever. You can either worry about it or not worry about it. And I would suggest don’t worry about it.” And I go, “Okay, thank you doctor.” And my brother Phil says, “Where in the hell did you get all of that shit?” Then I realized, “Ah, I’ve been laying here for three days, on medication, listening to all this stuff. My mind is just going through some sort of wild drug trip.” So I calmed down after that. So the next day the moved me (out of intensive care) and who should be my roommate but Mr. Peabody. The next two nights were a real trip with him. In the day, he’s absolutely the sweetest guy. No maintenance. But in the night, the dementia’s kicking in. So the first night, he peed the bed. So he’s getting up, trying to clean up. And believe me, I could’ve easily peed the bed myself, too. You’re pretty much incapacitated. He’s on a heart monitor. So they can tell that there’s activity. So the nurses come in and say “What’s going on, Mr. Peabody?” And he says, “I don’t know.” And they said, “Did you pee the bed?” And says, “I think so.” And they said, “Okay, we’ll, that’s all right. You just sit there and we’ll clean it up.” So they clean it up. And Mr. Peabody is asking, “What’s this an indication of?” The nurse tells him, “It means you’re tired.” And he goes, “Oh, okay.” So they got him back to bed. That was night one. Of course, on night two, he poops the bed. Same type of thing. As they’re cleaning him up, he says something to the female nurse that neither she nor I could hear. So she whispers, “What?” And he says, “I love you.” So she said, “I love you, too.” It was really quite beautiful. It was pretty rough, physically. But I’m doing more things. I’m shaving and I’m walking. Kind of getting back to normal. I didn’t really want to eat very much. I became nauseous.
Q: I talked to you on the phone on Saturday. Much to my great relief.
Nick: Yeah. I made it a point to answer the phone when anybody called. Now it’s a week after that call and I feel great. I just feel great. I thought the gig was last night. I thought, “I should go down and sing one song: Crossroads.” And I kinda practiced it. But then the gig was canceled.
Q: I told the Long Suffering Mrs. Chance that. She was appalled that you’d even consider such a thing.
Nick: I definitely could’ve done it tonight. But last night, I was feeling pretty good and stuff. I thought you guys would trip out to see me come through the door. Even if it was at sound check.
Q: So you’re ready to rock and work on some new tunes?
Nick: For sure.
Q: I think that Super Ego on Vacation becomes more meaningful now.
Nick: Oh yeah.
Q: You even have a poem called “A Surgeons Hands” in your book, “Nick was Right and Other Absurdities.” What in the hell was that about?
Nick: That was kind of about how I wanted to donate my body to science and kind of let kids practice cutting me up into pieces.
Q: Okay. Um, were you ever at any point during your heart treatment concerned that the evil medical machine was planning to place you in suspended animation and harvest your organ to sell to Chinese millionaires?
Nick: No. But Dave asked me if I had any sort of epiphany. You know, I had a very, well, it kinda was an unnerving dream. But, as it turned out, it was a very settling and peaceful dream. I dreamt that I was visited by my mother and father. They were dressed in the “Full Cleveland” styles. My dad was in a blue polyester shirt. Black belt. Blue, baby blue, polyester pants. Black shoes. He looked just like he looked in the 60s. And my mother was dressed in a shift. And they came into this room and there were no features in the room. Nothing. Just whiteness. But it is like a room. So they came in. They had concerned looks on their faces. Then they both turned and left. I thought, “Wow, this is odd.” And then, all of a sudden, this room filled with people. People that I didn’t really know. Just lots of different people. I woke up. I felt a little unnerved. And then I understood that it meant that “we’re concerned about you, but it’s not your time yet. It’s our time to go. We’ll be back. But your life is going to be filled with other people.” So my brother, the night before I went in, said “Do you want me to get you a priest?” I said, “No.” I didn’t have any concern that I might perish on the table. All because of that dream.
Next: Nick and the other founding members of the Bittermen Blues Band tell, in their own words, the incredible saga of the ultimate Geezer Rock Band! Bad gigs! Great gigs! Intra-band Rivalries! Don’t miss it!
©2007 Edward Dean Chance ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Comments

[cathy]

What an awesome dream, both eerie and moving at the same time! It's good to hear Nick is gonna be okay.