"It hurts."
"There, there, Santa. You're going to be all right.
Somebody call Dr. Teasdale. He's coming around."
"Oooohhh."
"Hello? Is that you, Santa?"
"Where am I?" I open my eyes and look around. I'm
surrounded by machines. Each of them has tubes or wires
leading to my body. Most of the machines have TV screens
with flashing lights. Some make little beeping sounds.
In front of me is a very official-looking man in a white
doctor's coat. He looks about my age, but he is much
thinner. He has long straight hair down the back of his
head and is wearing black-rimmed glasses. In spite of
his formal attire, he looks friendly. He speaks to me.
"You're in the University Hospital Intensive Care Unit.
You've been unconscious a week. Tonight is New Year's
Eve and we're practically alone with just a skeleton
crew. They didn't expect you to make it. When you
miraculously survived your fall, they called me. My name
is Dr. James N. Teasdale. I'm from Chicago and somewhat
of an expert on miraculous healings. With your
permission, I've come to observe the dead Santa who
refused to die."
"Wow, I've been hugging gods for a week!" I mumble
"What?" asks Dr. Teasdale, turning a knob on his
recorder.
"Oh, nothing. So, I should be dead, should I?"
"Oh yes. The injury to your head was more than
sufficient to kill you. Yet, you live. Everyone was
afraid you were going to take that last sleigh ride in
the sky. Imagine the headlines, 'Santa Claus falls to
his death trying to hide from his girlfriend's husband.'
Think of all the children who find out Santa is dead.
Think of all the children who believed Santa was happily
married." He grins. "Do you tease everyone like this, or
just Dale?" I pun his name, "Teas-dale."
"Listen to this guy," Teasdale says, as if we were not
alone. "Not only does he remember my name, but he cracks
stupid jokes about it. This is great. They were worried
about your mind. They've been working very hard to drain
the blood from your cranium. You shouldn't even be
conscious, much less lucid. How much do you remember?"
"Well, I remember that my name is Ken Larsen, and it
means 'Son of Israel, King of the Canaanites.' I
remember most of the times tables. I think I can name
most of the states and some of their capitals. I
remember my first kiss. Believe it or not, it was after
my mission in France."
"Okay, okay, smart guy," Dr. Teasdale says with a grin.
"How much do you remember about your fall?"
"I was with Sandy. Oh, where is she? How is she?"
"You're going to have to forget Sandy. Her husband knows
all about you. I'll tell you more in a moment"
"Oh, Damn! I should have stayed dead." I pause to mourn
the death of a great relationship. Dr. Teasdale waits
patiently. I'm back to our conversation. "Well, anyway,
I slipped on the fire escape and fell to the pavement
below. Oh, yes, I also remember noticing the icicles on
the side of the building."
"Anything after that?"
"Well, yes, sort of."
"Meaning?"
"Well, I think I had an out-of-body experience."
Teasdale's face suddenly lights up with interest as he
leans forward, holding up his recorder. "What do you
remember of it?" he asks eagerly.
"I think I remember it all. It was very strange. I heard
a voice. I met Jesus. In fact, I met every God I've ever
heard about and some I hadn't. I was told that I would
somehow heal my body and use my powers to bring peace to
the world." I recite the rest of my out-of-body
experience for Teasdale's recorder. I am surprised at
the level of his interest.
Teasdale asks, "You're a scientist, aren't you?"
"Yes. I do medical research right here in this
hospital."
"Do you believe in God?"
"I think so. But I'm not so sure just who or what God
might be, especially after my experience. In fact, I
have a lot more questions than answers. How about you?"
"I'm an atheist," says Teasdale proudly, "but I've seen
plenty of strange and improbable medical healings. I
believe we have mental powers far beyond those we
understand. That doesn't mean there has to be some
supernatural being out there controlling everything. I'm
sure there's no such entity. I see no reason to invent
some God just so we won't have to admit we don't know."
"So," I reply, "you don't explain things without God.
You just deny God and leave things unexplained."
"Yes." Teasdale says, raising his voice in his
excitement that I'm apparently getting it.
"That sounds sort of like some of the stuff I heard
while out of my body," I say.
"Yes," says Teasdale, "doesn't it? Well, your case is
rather unique. That's why I'm so excited to be here. I
have written several books on phenomenal medical
healings. I heard about your case and flew here from
Chicago to personally monitor your healing. This is
great. You should have been killed by the fall, but
somehow you miraculously cheated death. There is no
medical reason for you to come out of your coma. And, if
you do wake up, you should be very confused, like a
drunk man. Yet you appear lucid. And now, you say you
think you were given special powers by some Spirit to
heal yourself. Oh, Dr. Larsen, you are going to make a
wonderful chapter in my book, maybe a whole book. We'll
have a press conference tomorrow and you will be a
famous miracle."
"I'm sorry, Dr. Teasdale, we can't do that. I feel that
I must keep my powers a secret until I can go to Israel
and make peace."
"Just how many years do you expect me to keep you under
wraps?" Teasdale says sternly.
"No, I get the notion that I'm going to do it this year,
during the days of the Passover," I say, without
understanding why.
"Obviously, you haven't heard the news the past few
days. President Clinton is trying and failing to help
the Israelis and Palestinians make peace. There is talk
of some kind of general revolt to coincide with
Passover. Pilgrims and tourists are canceling for this
year. Military security is getting very tight. The US is
sending warships to the Eastern Mediterranean. It could
be bigger than Desert Storm. It looks like we are
joining with Europe on the side of Israel, while most of
the Muslim world is falling in line with Palestine. I
don't think you're going to Israel this year. Besides,
you are in no condition to get out of this bed, much
less travel across the globe. You focus on getting
better and being my star miracle."
"No, Doctor, you must keep my powers a secret," I
insist.
"Even if I wanted to, it will be almost impossible,"
says Teasdale with a tone of irritation.
Changing the subject, I ask, "Tell me what has happened
while I've been gone."
"You mean besides the international news?"
"How long have you been in town? And what has happened
with the details of my life? Do my children know? What
about my job and my apartment?"
"Easy, easy, one question at a time. You were in the
local news Monday, Christmas Day. I have friends who
contacted me and I arrived Thursday. I've been keeping a
complete record on you, just in case I can use it in my
next book. Your girlfriend's name is Sandra Anderson.
When you fell, she immediately called 911. She and her
husband ran to your side and placed a blanket under you
to keep you from freezing. You should have been
instantly killed, but your heart was beating, so the
ambulance rushed you here and the emergency room staff
managed to keep your body alive. Nobody expected your
mind to recover. I don't think Mr. Anderson wants you to
recover. Your supervisor has resigned himself to
managing without you. Your landlord has agreed to hold
your apartment and your stuff until you die. Your son,
who lives near you is watching over your apartment. Your
children are very lovely and they have been here every
day. They talk about you in the past tense, as if you
were already dead. They left a few hours ago to celebrate
the New Year. You see, I have learned a lot about you in
these four days."
"Do you think we can keep my powers from the eyes of the
media for three months?"
"I don't see how. But, if you have the powers you claim
to have, maybe it can be done. Why don't you rest
awhile? I promise not to tell anyone without your
permission, at least until we can talk some more. And,
don't worry. I'll get Dr. Jones, your neurosurgeon, to
issue a gag order for his staff."
With my left arm, I manage to eat some soup and
crackers. I notice that hospital food hasn't improved
since the last time I was here. I turn on the television
and watch the Ten O'clock news. I see how the doctor was
right about Israel. If ever they needed a miracle it's
now. I wonder how I'm going to do any good in my
condition. I wonder how I'm supposed to heal myself in
time to do any good. I ask Suzy, my nurse, about
Dr. Teasdale. She explains that he is a very strange
person. His training is in psychology and hypnotherapy.
Some consider him a quack. He says he's an atheist, yet
he has documented some astonishing medical miracles. Dr.
Jones, my neurosurgeon, has been a long time friend and
admirer of Dr. Teasdale. He has given Teasdale carte
blanche to the place. Suzy admits she thinks Teasdale is
a bit weird. He has taken all kinds of sound and video
recordings. He has convinced Dr. Jones to gather medical
data on me that might not normally be required. He has
interviewed at length nearly everyone who has come to
visit. Suzy is concerned that people come to see me and
they spend all their time talking to this hypno-psycho-babble
weirdo. Speak of the Devil, here he comes.
Chapter V
