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Maybe God Was an Irishman

By Bernie Donnelly

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New York

Easter Thursday - 2017


Lee Thomas buttoned up his shirt as he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked at his craggy face, his bubbly nose, his receding hairline, and his jowly skin. He wondered what his beloved wife ever saw in him. Okay, he had a brain and a decent personality, but he was considered cranky at work, although highly respected. He knew he could make people laugh whenever he felt like it, which wasn’t very often. Then again, he hadn’t felt like laughing himself in such a long, long time.
‘Oh, Joanna,’ he whispered at the mirror. ‘Why did you leave me? Why couldn’t I have been the one to have left you?’
Putting some paste on his toothbrush, Lee thought about his life pre- and post-Joanna. His pre- life was nothing compared to his post- one. In his pre-Joanna days, he was a totally different person – full of life, even when he thought the world sucked. He had enthusiasm for everything. He would drown Joanna in his opinions about his latest stories while at the same time relishing in her always wise and considered responses.
One time he had taken the view in an article he was writing about people’s social behaviors that it was impossible to have a society whose foundations were not built on proper social behavior; in other words, that people these days were so caught up in themselves and their selfishness to the detriment of everybody and everything else that nothing seemed to matter anymore. Gone were the good social graces, the good manners that previous generations had instilled in their children and that society no longer cared about.
Joanna unsettled Lee at first when she argued, ‘People these days are no different from us when we were growing up. It is the ever-changing world that molds people differently. It is up to us older generations to show more patience than we did before, more understanding about people’s behaviors than we did before. Just because somebody doesn’t comply with what you consider to be the “norm” doesn’t mean that they are wrong. What if the person doesn’t show the “correct considered behavior” when they, because of the unknown pressures that society has dealt them, had to forego the “considered rules of engagement” in order to survive in today’s modern world, just as we had to when we were growing up?!’
Joanna’s argument had made Lee reconsider his approach. As a result, he posted a totally different perspective to his Sunday Times readers, a perspective that sent plaudits his way like never before.
But Joanna was gone, taken by that maddening, unrelenting, destructive killer called breast cancer.
They never saw it coming. They never thought it could happen to them. Everything went unobserved until it came knocking at their door, the door that had welcomed saviors and sinners alike in equal measure. The people had knocked looking for Joanna’s guidance as she worked relentlessly for the good of mankind, whether it was in New York City or around the world. Everybody knew of Joanna’s work – her dedication to helping minorities. She had an ability to gather together the known and the unknown – the celebrities who willingly gave of their time to raise money for whatever cause or causes her attention was on, the university graduates and the professors and businesspeople had no issue when Joanna came calling looking for their help. She had that personality, that persona to which you quite simply could not say no. Joanna asked, and Joanna received – it was that simple.
She always called on God for assistance. God was the one, as she put it, who never tired of hearing from her about her missions, whether they were going well or not going well at all. She had supreme confidence in His spiritual presence. She never blamed God for anything. She trusted His divine spirit implicitly. She was the one who never lost her cool. She had time for everyone. Even when Lee had reached the end of his tether – which was often – she was the model of calmness, the one who said that it would work because she had God on her side. She had the direct line, and God could always be counted upon to give her what she needed.
Joanna had also pulled Lee into her religious corral. He had been a self-proclaimed agnostic when they first met, but she had over time, and with no subtle design, managed to cajole her way into his inner mind and unlock some buried sanctities that he had been totally unaware he possessed. Even as she drew her last breath, she reached out to hold Lee’s hand and asked him to say Joanna’s prayer.
He had looked in her eyes, which seemed to sparkle as he shed tear after tear. He said, ‘Of course,’ and striking up the courage, he spoke – ‘Heavenly Father, grant us the wisdom to do your will and the strength to see it through. Have mercy on us and grant us eternal life through Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen.’
With that, Joanna passed from this world into her eternal world, a world that Lee had no time for. His newfound spirituality had been built entirely around his reliance on Joanna’s constant state of grace, and it blew apart immediately following her demise. It was a reborn faith that had suffered an immediate abortion. He had never even bothered to do any soul-searching following Joanna’s death. Why should he ask the clichéd questions that everybody asks when somebody good is taken from a world in such short supply of these rich human veins of goodness? He was angry, and he would remain angry for whatever future time he had been allotted.

Joanna would have been proud of his achievement since her death back in 2009, some eight years ago now – or was it eighteen years? It seemed like a lifetime ago in a parallel universe. Trying not to miss her and knowing that he felt her supporting him and rallying him, Lee immersed himself in his work, doing what he had always done best – exposing the rats of society, the big rats, the ones who seemed to crawl through the sewers of every town and city in every part of the world, taking – always taking – from the foolish, the narcissists, the egomaniacs, the good and the bad for their own selfish pleasures, always at the expense of the ignorant and foolish citizens who blindly voted them into existence in the first place.
Lee Thomas was the acolyte whom the innocent taxpayer followed these past eight years in his weekly Sunday Times exposés, sometimes running into the Monday editions and being syndicated around the world after having rocked whatever city was the den for whatever rat happened to be living there. Of course, that was ever since his Pulitzer-winning destruction of the Boston Catholic hierarchy, which had taken him some two and a half years of in-depth reporting. It brought him tides of new fans and new readers, so much so that he had earned the nickname ‘the Skeptic.’ Lee was proud to wear that mantle, and he knew that his Joanna would have been proud also. He took particular delight in seeing the Boston hierarchy squirm their way through lie after compounded lie, only to find themselves thwarted at every turn as Lee brought his reporting to bear down on them and their expensive lawyers, resulting in the knockout punch of their admitting their injustices against the innocent children they ruined but of course never admitting liability.
The New York Times lauded and protected him just as they protected all of their major assets. Lee Thomas was their treasure, and whatever he asked for, he got. He had been interviewed so often and asked for his views on so many topics since his exposé that he had become a regular contributor to PBS, CNN, and all the major TV networks, making him quite the celebrity. But he shunned most of the limelight and had made himself a routine that he could cope with, a routine without his soul mate.
Lee liked working for the Times. He had been working there for over thirty years. He and Dick Martin had been junior reporters together and had become the best of friends. Dick covered the political side while Lee liked to concentrate on social affairs. Joanna had always steered him in that direction, giving her opinion forthrightly on whatever topic he was working on. She more than satisfied Lee’s need to bounce his research off somebody he could trust implicitly in order to get a qualified opinion and not some ‘yes man’ approval from one of the suck-up kiddos back in the office.
After twenty-odd years of hard graft, Dick had worked his way up to the editorial level while Lee decided to stay relatively under the radar. When Dick eventually became desk editor, Lee was more than happy for him. They always worked well together. They had equal respect for each other’s work, and nobody was more delighted than Dick when Lee won the Pulitzer. As far as Dick was concerned, the Skeptic was the man who set the Times apart from its competitors. The Times needed a couple of more reporters just like him.

Lee closed his front door, climbed into his SUV, and made his way over to his daughter’s house, the same as he had done for the past ten days, ever since his beautiful Maggie had told him she had stage three Hodgkin’s disease. Having dragged himself from the oblivion of a joyless life over these past eight years, immersing himself in his work and giving himself a new lease on wanting to live, Lee was being dragged down screaming into his isolated and soulless world – again! His only child, who was not yet forty years old and who had given him the pleasure of two grandchildren, was being struck down as Joanna had been.
Maggie’s husband, Barry, had been devastated by the news. Lee did not show any sign of being depressed when he was in their company. Instead, he rallied, using all of his considerable influence to find the very best oncologist who would give his or her undivided attention to his daughter. He found Dr. Des Murphy, working over at the NYU cancer center, one of the foremost cancer specialists in Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Lee knew him well, having helped during a lawsuit against the hospital that he had managed to expose as a fraud, thereby exonerating the hospital and putting another feather in the Skeptic’s hat. Des wasted no time in taking on Maggie’s case.
The MRIs revealed an active lymphoma spreading towards the lungs and the liver. Des treated her with radiation and chemotherapy immediately. He told Lee that he needed a few more days to be certain about the prognosis. He explained that while Hodgkin’s was totally curable in a lot of cases, the best outcome, as with all cancers, was dependent upon early diagnosis. He didn’t know if he had caught Maggie’s in time. The important thing now was to stop the spread of the disease to the vital organs. He reckoned she had been lucky so far, but they needed to get control of it. It was going to be very rough on her, but she was young and strong and in very good health, so she was certainly able and was willing to fight it.
Lee had asked Des not to pull any punches. He wanted the truth. Des assured him he would tell him everything just as soon as he knew anything. He said that sometimes the cure can be worse than the disease itself, but only time would reveal all.
Lee arrived at Maggie’s to be met by Barry holding his five-year-old granddaughter while his seven-year-old grandson ran to greet him with his boyish screams that always sent a shiver of delight up his granddad’s back. Maggie had been pregnant with young Bill when Joanna died. He was born that same year. His wife had never gotten to see her grandchild. Nancy was born two years later and completed the set. Joanna had talked about expecting her first grandchild nonstop during her illness, never realizing she would not be around to enjoy any of them.
Lee whipped little Bill up in the air and swung him around as the boy screamed with delight. Lee looked at Barry, and he could see how troubled and worried he was. He liked Barry a lot. He was a good man who adored Maggie just as much as he did. He worked as the financial director of the local GE plant and had been promoted at least twice in the last four years. He was a good provider. Lee mouthed, ‘How is she?’ to which Barry responded, ‘Not good.’
‘Look what Granddad has brought my precious grandchildren,’ said Lee as he reached inside his bag to reveal a Lego set for Bill and a drawing set for Nancy. ‘Now go into the playroom, and let me see what you can make and draw while your daddy and granddad go upstairs and see your mom.’
‘I’m going to make an airplane!’ screamed Bill.
‘I want to draw Mommy and Daddy!’ yelled Nancy as they rushed into the playroom.
‘How did you manage to buy those?’ quizzed Barry.
‘One of the neighbors dropped them over. She’s great. She knew I’d be hopeless at shopping for anything appropriate.’
‘That’s terrific, Lee. I’m afraid we had a rough night again. Maggie has been throwing up practically on the hour, but she never complains, and the doctor said that this was normal. He told me to make sure she had plenty of liquids. For some reason, he suggested flat Diet Coke or ginger ale, and it seems to be helping her.’
‘How is her weight?’
‘She’s losing pounds with every passing day. She looks very fragile, yet she still has her appetite. She’s eating everything I put in front of her, so I expect that’s a good sign.’
‘Yes, that’s good. Des told me that as long as she’s eating, that’s good. It’s vitally important that she keep her strength up while she’s battling the drugs. I’m expecting to hear from Des later on today. He said he’ll have the results of the latest MRI scans and that he’ll have a better indication of whether or not there has been any progression.’
‘Wouldn’t she be better off in the hospital?’ asked Barry. ‘I mean; the nurses would know what they’re doing. I’m just fighting fires not knowing if what I’m doing is right or wrong.’ Barry seemed to be not really thinking straight.
‘No, don’t worry about that. Just be there for her like you always are. That’s what’s important. If she were in the hospital, she’d be surrounded by strangers. There’s nothing anybody can do except to be there for her, show her how much we love her. That’s what’s important.’
‘Okay, Lee. Thanks. It’s just that I seem so helpless. I shouldn’t be moaning to you.’
‘Hey, moan away. It keeps me busy, and I appear important,’ he chuckled, trying to ease the temperature.
They knocked on the bedroom door.
‘Hi, baby girl. Daddy’s home,’ said Lee, as he had always done all of her life.
‘Hi, Dad. Come on in,’ said Maggie, stifling a cough.
Maggie was sitting up, looking blankly at the muted television set hanging on the wall.
‘How are you today, precious?’ asked Lee, not needing any reply as he could see for himself how drawn and tired she looked. He smiled his best smile anyway.
‘I’m not bad. Feeling just a little better,’ she lied, but they both knew it.
She looked even weaker than yesterday. She was a lot paler than before, and the anguish showed on Lee’s face.
‘Don’t be worrying, Dad. I’m going to get through this, you’ll see,’ she said, giving him her best smile.
‘I know you will, honey. You’re a fighter just like your mother. Doctor Murphy is due to call me today with the latest results from your MRI. Let’s not worry too much before we hear from him. The kiddies probably have no idea what’s happening, huh?’
‘No, thank goodness. Barry has been wonderful. He’s taken them to school, bathed them, and fed them. He’s a wonderful man, Dad,’ Maggie said, looking over in Barry’s direction.
‘It’s easy for me, darling. I just want you to get better,’ assured Barry.
‘What about we say a little prayer?’ asked Maggie.
‘Of course, honey, whatever you want,’ said Barry as Lee shifted his position on the chair rather awkwardly.
‘Come on, Dad, you can do this – for Mom,’ prodded Maggie.
‘I know, honey. Sure, lead away,’ Lee replied, knowing they felt his mood.
‘Heavenly Father, look down upon us in our anguish. Give me the strength to beat this sickness. Mother, I know you’re up there and that you are fighting for me all the way. Dad is here too, Mom.’ Maggie smiled in his direction. ‘Help me, Mom.’ The tears flowed as she lost control. Lee reached out to hold her hand.
‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry to bring this upon you. I can’t believe you have to suffer for me the way you’ve suffered so much already over Mom. I wish I could be well. I don’t want to die.’ With that, Lee lost control himself, and the tears flowed down as he choked, unable to respond coherently.
‘Say Joanna’s prayer for me, Dad.’ Maggie looked at Lee, stretching out her hand in his direction, wanting him to take it.
‘I don’t think I remember it,’ Lee choked, taking her hand gently in his and rubbing it.
‘Sure you do. I’ll help you.’
They held each other’s hand as they recited, ‘Heavenly Father, grant us the wisdom to do your will and the strength to see it through. Have mercy on us and grant us eternal life through Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen.’
‘Hey, guys,’ interjected Barry. ‘Hey, come on, now. We’re winning this thing. Let’s not let this son of a bitch take us down. We’re stronger than it. Come on, pull ourselves together,’ he insisted.
‘You’re right, Barry. I’m sorry,’ said Lee. ‘Honey, don’t think for a moment that I’m angry, because I’m not. I’m only ever thinking of you. Your mom is gone, but I know she’s watching over us all. Okay, I don’t follow the God thing and I guess I never will, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a believer in you! You are my life, as is Barry, as are my grandchildren. Never think that way about me. Think only of yourself. Be selfish in the extreme.’
‘Thank you, Dad. I’ll try to be stronger. It’s just that sometimes . . .’
With that, Lee’s phone rang. It was Des.
‘Des,’ said Lee shakily. ‘What’s the news?’
‘It’s good – well, better than I first thought, Lee. It looks like it’s stopped growing, at least for the time being. Are you with Maggie and Barry?’
‘Yes, they’re both here beside me.’
‘Put me on speaker, Lee. I’d like to talk to all of you at the same time.’
Lee pressed the speaker button. Maggie sat up, biting her well-chewed fingernails. Barry tensed.
‘Look,’ said Des, ‘we’re not by any stretch of the imagination out of the woods yet, but as I told Lee, it appears the growth has stabilized. We never know why these things happen. They always appear to have a mind of their own, but stopping its growth is always a good thing. It means that the treatment is working, or at least we are using the right strain, or mix, if you like, of medicines. I can’t say when it’s going to start again or even if it will restart. We never know. But let’s take it one day at a time. How are you feeling, Maggie, at this present time?’
Maggie fell back on her pillow and blew out some air. ‘Eh, doctor, I’m fine. I’m still eating. I’m getting sick a lot more than I was, but you said that would happen anyway.’
‘I’m going to reduce your dosage. I’d like for you to come over and see me tomorrow. Bring Barry – and you can come too, Lee. I have a suggestion to make that I think you should take me up on. How does eleven o’clock sound?’
‘I’m fine with that,’ said Lee. ‘What about you, honey?’
‘Well, what about my chemo doctor?’
‘Don’t take any more medicine until you come in to see me tomorrow. You’ll be fine until then. Being off the hard dosage will relieve your nausea, and you won’t want to retch so much.’
‘That’ll be great, doctor. Thanks.’
‘Okay, I’m going to leave you now until I see all of you tomorrow morning,’ said Des. ‘Until then, get a good night’s sleep – all of you – and remain positive.’
‘Thanks, Des. I really mean that. I don’t know what we would have done without you.’
‘It’s my pleasure, Lee – my pleasure.’ With that, he hung up.
‘Tell me how you managed to get one of the leading oncologists in the country, Dad,’ asked Maggie.
‘We came across each other some years back. Let’s say we helped each other out.’
‘I think you should get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, and you’ll need all of your strength,’ said Barry.
‘Yes, Barry’s right, kiddo. You get some sleep. We’ve had great news. I’ll meet you both over there tomorrow at eleven.’
Lee kissed Maggie on the cheek. She grabbed him and pulled him in closer to her, digging her fingers into his back and saying,
‘I love you so much, Dad.’
‘I know, honey. Everything’s going to be okay. You’ll see.’
Barry led Lee outside and closed the bedroom door. ‘I’ll let her sleep for as long as she can, and hopefully she won’t be interrupted by her vomiting. I’ll see you tomorrow, Lee.’
‘Yes, until tomorrow, Barry. I’ll just say goodbye to the kids, and then I’ll be off.’
Maggie stared blankly at the television and tried to remember what normality was like before last week had enveloped her. What had she been doing before the grim reaper came crawling into her life? She thought back to when she was so happy, having obtained her bachelor’s degree and certification as a teacher, how she was all set to enter Harvard when Joanna came calling.
A local school in a rundown part of the Upper East Side was due to close because of lack of funds. Joanna had heard about it having been approached by some of the mothers and fathers whose children were attending that school. Joanna took up the mantle to ‘Save Hannaford High.’ In her usual extroverted way, she managed to raise enough funds to get it back on its feet. But Joanna didn’t stop there. No, siree. She immediately raised the ante by encroaching on her political contacts to pull out all the stops, ensuring that they got a development grant to renovate the building as well as funding for new teachers. She had explained to those with influence that the school was the only reason that crime in the area was as low as it was, even though it was still higher than in most other areas. But the children were off the streets, had at least two square meals a day, and were learning. She pointed out that some of these students went on to bigger and better things, that all students had a future, because of Hannaford High.
Then Maggie’s mom asked her – in her none-too-subtle way – if she would help out for a time, just until things got sorted out. She had asked Maggie to look after her interests because she didn’t want to give some of the politicians any reason to deny them future funding, as one or two of them would have liked to have seen Joanna fall flat on her face. They had looked upon her as a threat to their own political ambitions. Of course Maggie said she’d stay and help out, but only for six months or so. Ten years later, she was now head of the new ‘Hannaford High’ – pre- and middle school. She never did get to go to Harvard, but she never missed it, having relished the challenges that had arisen and still arose – well, up until the last week, that is.
Then Maggie thought about the bizarre consequences leading up to her own diagnosis. Never for a moment had she or Barry noticed that anything was physically wrong with her. She worked out on her gym equipment every morning, she ran a few days every week, and she ate well and rarely ate junk food because she wanted her children to develop good diets. They had few money problems since Barry’s job paid very well. He had been promoted a couple of times, while her own salary was reasonable and pensionable. The children were healthy, normal kids. Then last week, while she was going through the teacher’s time rosters, Angela, the senior preschool teacher, knocked on her door, telling her that little Rosa Hernandez was complaining of severe tummy cramps and that she felt she needed to bring the girl to the hospital. Angela’s problem was that she had to look after Emma’s class as well as her own because Emma hadn’t shown up for work that morning.
‘I know,’ Maggie had said. ‘Emma called. She has the flu or something. You can’t leave the two classes unattended. I’ll take Rosa to my own doctor once I get her parent’s approval. He’s only a few miles away. I’m sure he won’t mind looking at her.’
So off Maggie went with little Rosa Hernandez in tow, the preschool girl whining and moaning the whole time while Maggie tried to pacify her as best she could.
Doctor Maydew had been her doctor for as long as Maggie could remember. She would never forget the way he looked at her as he examined Rosa.
‘How are you feeling, Maggie?’ he inquired.
‘I’ve never been better, doctor,’ she said, explaining how they were planning their vacation, hoping to spend a week in Orlando. ‘It’s time our kiddies experienced the one and only Mickey Mouse,’ she said, totally oblivious to what was coming her way.
Doctor Maydew inquired about her children’s ages. ‘Five and seven,’ she said, telling him that both were doing great.
‘When was the last time you had a checkup with me?’ he asked her sort of out of the blue, which startled her a little.
‘Can’t remember. Must be a few years,’ she responded, becoming a little apprehensive and wanting to leave his examination room.
‘Well, little Rosa here is going to be fine. Just some tummy cramps. You hop up on the table there while I get my nurse to look after little Rosa. I’ll give you a quick once-over checkup,’ the doctor said as if it were the norm.
So if little Rosa hadn’t been sick and if Emma hadn’t been out with the flu, then Maggie probably wouldn’t have been disturbed, and she would never have had to see Doctor Maydew – and she would be dead.
The doctor felt the lump after he had examined her breathing. He had her cough a number of times and decided to take her blood and get it analyzed. That’s when the trouble started, as the jokes always say. Then the past week became surreal as she was whisked from one doctor to another hospital, finally taken under Doctor Murphy’s wing, courtesy of her dad.
Maggie reached over for her box of tissues. Putting her hands to her face, she pleaded, ‘Please, God, don’t let me die.’ And with that, the tears cascaded down her face in uncontrollable bursts and lasted some minutes.
She finally stopped crying, blew her nose, and stared blankly at the TV. She saw Anderson Cooper miming something while the CNN red breaking news banner displayed something about a priest in Ireland. She turned off the television and fell into a deep sleep.

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