• Published here.

    Wherein the author acknowledges his slavery to the flesh



    ___We are a people in flux and constancy is futility. Grasp as we may to those traditions that lock us in a static scene — unaffected by the movement of time — soon or late they slip from our fingers and we find that they have passed away… forgotten. Weak is the flesh and would any man not covet those careless years which he has lost to time?


    ___It was July and the swelter and sultriness of that month lay heavily on us, nonetheless, light was the mood. I had spent the summer of two-thousand and eight basking lazily in the sun without fear and without care. It was a summer of leisure; a summer of Tom Collinses, brochettes, and extravagant cigars; a summer of boat decks and bobbing lures, deep blue lakes and cloudless skies; a fanfare of colour and an endless soirée. Whether I was on the fairway with friends or at the lake, gently lolling on the waves; it was the freest that I had ever felt and I would that it could have remained thus without end.


    ___But all good things — as it is said — must find their termination on this finite course and one day I came to a stunning realisation: I was a sot and I fed off my patron without giving of myself in return. As I lounged there — the light fluttering through the leaves — and looked about me, the signs of my perversion surfaced. Here is a gentleman who entertains that he should be a priest and he finds himself in the midst of scantily clad women, a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin on ice sitting next to him, a tray of the finest summer cheeses — pecorino marzolino, stracchino, ricotta salata, and mozzarella — smoked salmon, and Russian osietra caviar in the finest crystal. Fine white supima cotton draped over his shoulders, light twill trousers, a panama on his head and a crystal tumbler of single-malt in his hand.


    ___As I said, I looked about me and taking in the scene I realised that this was the image of a scoundrel and a vainglorious fool. I set immediately to the classifieds and after some furious clipping was able to arrange before me some promising options for occupation. Now note, that I have had but one rule since I graduated and that was that I may rest both mind and soul, whilst grounding myself, that I may enter seminary with that stability which is required in a priest. Thus I desired nothing more than a modest income and the ability to save funds for my eventual education. As has been clearly illustrated I had been flippant with what monies I had and had put my energies to no good purpose.


    ___But I loved that lifestyle which I had become accustomed to — beyond my means, of course — and I was unwilling to let it go entirely. I therefore looked for employment in such a faculty that I could procure sufficient funds for its perpetuation, whilst also attending to my obligations and debts.

    Wherein the author unrepentantly continues in his sin



    ___In consequence, on 9 August 2008 I accepted the position of hospitality aide at the Bradford Œcumenical Home (100 Saint Francis Drive, Bradford, Penna. 16701) with the intention — after all appropriate training programmes — of becoming and acting in the faculty of a certified nursing assistant. Of course, this was not my dream job. However, with no post-secondary education and a C.V. of little or no merit, it was my dream paycheck.


    ___In October I began and over the next six weeks successfully completed the certification programme receiving said certification for the states of New York and Pennsylvania, respectively. I was signed on full-time and received a pleasant little check every two weeks. During this period of transition I finally said farewell to my patron and moved into a clean little apartment at 41 Main Street. The apartments were reasonably priced, furnisht with new appliances and accoutrements. I stocked my kitchen with the very best cookware, dinnerware, glassware, flatware, &c. I spent hours preparing complex culinary dishes with only the best ingredients: fresh, organic fruits and vegetables; beautiful cuts of meat; as well as the finest staples. I supplemented my wardrobe, bought furniture and drapery, the most refined toiletries and continued to sink further and further into decadence and decay.


    ___Not all that occurred in the course of this period was negative. I learned some real humility being among the frailest and most dependent of people and I came to love many them, to sacrifice for them, and many showed much love — undeserved — in return. Nevertheless, whenever I walked out from the doors of that institution a shadow descended upon me and I fed each and every appetite. I gluttonously continued my illicit libations, ate richer and more decadent foods with each day, and even fell into the claws of fornication and depravity.


    ___I became more and more focused on achieving a certain perfection of the senses and began to fixate on single themes, pursuing trains of thought until they turned perversely and ruinously absorbing. I began to see every chip in a marble bust, every crack in a plaster wall, each speck of dust that was a blemish to the surface upon which it rested. I perceived each solecism in speech, every typographical inconsistency, and every distortion in perspective on the artist’s canvas. I noticed the subtleties of taste and if I did not love a thing then I did not treat it with kindness, but with derision. I became the most perceptive and the most critical of people, therein lay whatever genius I may possess and therein, also, is my curse. For eventually I realised that I myself was imperfect and I turned my analytical, calculating eye inward. I discovered my inner demons and began the process of self-destruction.


    ___I became a mean-spirited, monomaniacal, misanthropic malcontent who — after those events which are to follow — wrote this short introspective rhyme:


    ______And that acerbic inkhorn with his punctuated gait,
    ______cacophonously issues forth a steady stream of hate.


    ___Had the bonds of friendship which I had heretofore established been less solid I should find myself a lonely fool, grotesquely contorted by my animus and dissatisfaction. For I found noöne worthy and libelously castigated them for their flaws. There were times when I looked at people and I saw nothing worth liking and I didn’t mean to associate with the broken filth, mingling my own dismal matter with theirs. I hated most people with their petty lies, their squalid deficiencies and I hated them because I hated myself.


    ___I stood in the temple of God and I vainly prayed that He release me from this torment of sense, a torment that I had inflicted upon myself. I had hardened my heart against the world and yet I loved it. I was a breeding ground of contradiction. It was in the fulfillment of my lusts and gluttonies that I was so dissatisfied. I fed each and every appetite without check and bottomless was my desire. I could not satisfy it and so I began to hate its object. No water could quench my thirst — for I had abandoned the Eternal wellspring — thus water became distasteful to me. No food could curb my hunger — for I had denied His flesh — thus meat became like sand. My lechery could not be mitigated for I had lost myself to possessive temper — denying love to Him who is not only love, but within whom love most perfectly resides — thus love was like to me a grand hypocrisy.


    ___As James testifies, wherefore he saith, God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble. Humility I cast aside, trusting in my own judgment more than in Judgement itself. A man’s pride shall bring him low, saith the good book, and far had I fallen when those staggering events unfolded that I shall now communicate.

    Wherein the author loses himself in a black place



    ___The fifth of January was a day like any other, uneventful to most though eventful to me. The holidays would conclude shortly and I had outdone myself in their course. During the Advent season I had with censorious self-righteousness and Pharisaical exactitude denied myself in fasting and penance, only to pompously create a decadent spread which transcended — in my grossly troubled mind — the very heavens. I laboured over dishes for hours, seasoning and garnishing works of great beauty. This I did and we all enjoyed an orgy of flavour when all was said and done. Little attention did I pay to those dispositions which should excite us in times of feasting — especially the mystery of the Incarnation — but rather like my heathenish fellows I fed the bacchanal of our indulgence. So poorly directed were my impulses during this sad time that it could only end it anguish; for if it is so that I am called to the glory of the sacerdotal office, then He must — by right — humble his instruments. A tool that acts of its own volition is of no use, but brings ill to the work of the craftsman. This ordinary Monday in January would set my world alight, bringing to a close a chapter that is best marked by my unfaithfulness.


    ___At seven o’clock that evening I donned my overcoat, wrapped a scarf around my neck, slipped on my gloves, and laced my worn oxfords. An icy chill and bitter wind had earlier descended, but I was uneasy in the comfort of my abode and decided to take a brisk walk. I filled and lit a bowl full of a excellent Cavendish tobacco and the scent of bergamot wafted above my head. Crystals of snow lazily dusted the black cashmere of my topcoat with something that was pleasantly reminiscent of confectioner’s sugar. I decided to go to a secret place that I was often compelled to seek, where I would lay beneath the sky and rest my ever vigilant mind. I turned off Main Street and made my way up Kennedy Street, furthermore turning right onto Jackson Avenue. I followed Jackson until it merged with Seward Avenue and took to the hills. There was little actual snow on the ground and the brown grass was rigid with frost. I climbed — leaving the pavement — ever higher until I reached a ledge — the view from which was a powerful vista reaching out to all extremes. I found the stone bench that lay beneath the tight branches of a small tree — a familiar place to me — and protected against the elements I sat down and closing my eyes knew no more.


    ___I awoke to a biting cold as I lay prostrate in the snow, sharp heavy flakes beating my brow. I stood up, my limbs shuddered beneath me. I was surrounded by darkness, though I could make out the shapes of trees and a railway track to my left. As I turned, my hair — glossed with ice — cracked and I tore the frozen drippings from my nose in confusion and desperation. I walked up a broad path and found that I was near Route 219 on the northbound (though I didn’t know it at the time). In a daze I stumbled up and staring hard at my watch was able to determine that the time was only a quarter past eleven, four hours since my last re-collective thought. I calmed my nerves and began to assess my situation. My watch (a fine specimen) was on my wrist, my wallet was unmolested, my clothing was generally untouched though my trousers were torn and were severely stained with blood. I touched the torn skin and the frozen congealed blood revealed a superficial wound.


    ___I tried to locate some landmark that would tell me my location, but from that vantage little was forthcoming. I walked toward the highway and seeing no vehicles in the immediate vicinity I clambered across, over the barrier and onto the opposite side of the road. Here there were some dwellings and I avoided them, fearing that I would be taken for drunkard or madman. I walked mindlessly in a random direction and came to the small village of Limestone, where I was able to determine that I was nearly six miles from the place that I last remembered. The flurries that had earlier been such a delight had grown into a monstrous blizzard and I made my way first through Limestone, then down the interstate until I came finally to east Bradford. From here I proceeded disoriented toward my apartment. When I locked the door behind me and stripped the clothing from my back I lay naked in my bed and fitfully slept until the sun crept forth and banished my demons. When I woke all my associative capabilities blossomed and I recalled a dream — greatly disturbing to me at the time — that I had only three days earlier communicated to a friend of mine:

    Wherein the author recounts a terrify premonition



    ___The Friday before this strange tale I had dreamt of walking out into Main Street just as the great bell in Old City Hall tolled the third hour. The dream was vivid and complete, unlike anything that I had dreamt before. Two soldier courses of light lit the street before me, traveling into the most unbearably roaring silence that I can conceive. The street was a sheet a blacked ice and as I walked in that horrible silence I heard — of a sudden — the piercing scream of a young woman and the shrill cry of a pistol.


    ___I turned onto Kennedy Street and on the steps of City Hall a man stood holding a handgun, a women broken beneath him, blood pooling around her. He lifted his head and looked into my eyes, then suddenly sprinted into the alleyway between that great civic building and a row of storefronts terminating in a florist’s shop. He slipped and cascaded across the icy asphalt dropping the handgun. I lept toward it and brandishing it in my hand fired toward his fallen person. Nothing came of this attempt and I realised that it was empty. Just as he stood and began to careen between the walls of the alley I followed hard behind him until he turned the corner of the neo-classical edifice of the Medical plaza. I followed him around the corner only to find a nearly empty lot and no personage. I looked around frightened and with much fanfare a car’s horn blared in my ears. I clutched my head in pain as the headlights of a seemingly innate vehicle flashed on and the driver drove into me headlong. I had just enough sense to throw myself out of the way, but not before the grill clipped my thigh and mangled my legs. With the taste of blood and gravel in my mouth I knew only blackness.


    ___In the next instant I was on an operating table and the following scenes, like a well-edited cinematic experience, silently communicated to me that I had been permanently crippled. Then the dream transitioned and I was standing outside of my apartment building. The Edwardian baroque facade marred by an argument that I was conducting with my former patron. He implored me to leave my fourth four flat and come back where I could be cared for, and I proudly refused to accept his condescending charity. I claimed that I would no longer be a cancer to him. As I violently slammed the door before me I struggled to climb the stairs. Reaching the second floor landing the proprietor of that building stepped out of his office and speaking with much empathy offered me a a long package. Opening it I found a dark, hardwood cane with a rich orange leather tourist handle.


    ___I graciously thanked him and climbed the rest of the way to my flat. Entering it with sweat dripping from my brow and my leg throbbing I sat at my desk and taking the blade of a letter-opener through the head of an envelope extracted a pink sheet of paper. A tear formed in my eye and I quickly opened my large ledger a glance over my assets drove me to the cupboard, from out of which I brought a bottle of single-malt and a small orange cylinder of Vicodin. I took eight pills and drank half-a-glass of the liquor. Then I fell into a motionless sleep.


    ___One can see clearly that I was much ruffled by this dream and the events that followed only dispossessed me of whatever sanity remained. I locked myself in my bedroom and for days avoided everyone, unplugging my phone and ignoring any calls at the door. Each day was like the slow progression of some hidden parasite burrowing into my brain, rendering me mute and deaf. Each night I restlessly lay in my bed and dreams of untold horror came to me.

    Wherein the author is is afflicted by a mysterious malady



    ___Friday morning, 9 January 2008, I woke to a pain that I still should not be able to describe were it not to be succeeded by far worse afflictions. The muscles in my lower-right leg — later identified as the gastrocnemius of my calf — contracted and spasmed violently. Shocked and frightened I tried to stand only to find that I could not do so. I crawled to the living room and lay there confused until I again fell asleep. When I awoke my leg was still flexed at a forty-five degree angle and I was unable to extend it without the severest of pains, like knives tearing into my flesh.


    ___For five days I remained thus crippled, until I received a letter through my mail slot telling me of my terminated employment, effective the very day that I was so afflicted. Despair began to assail me and I cannot express the emotional turmoils which worked their evils within me those ten days.


    ___On Wednesday late in the evening, 11 January 2008, I threw myself at my former patron and begged that he take me to the Emergency Room at Bradford Regional Medical Centre. He gifted me a pair of crutches and with each painful step I made my way to that facility which I had heretofore sworn off. I had vowed — a vow that I have subsequently broken — that I would not enter a house of medicine until I was offered such benefits as would allow me to pay for the services of the said facility. I would not play the hypocrite. I am opposed on all fronts to the welfare state and all that it stands for and I would not grovel to the state for assistance. O dread goddesses Superbia, Impudentia, Philautia! How omnipresent are you!


    ___When I was admitted to the E.R. I was attended by a snide, outspoken, Polish gentleman by the name of Dr Waldemar P. Szczupak, M.D.; who promptly dismissed my explanation of events and told me that I had a simple case of Cellulitis — a diffuse infection of connective tissue with severe inflammation of dermal and subcutaneous layers of the skin. He administered the first of many doses of antibiotics, admitted me to the hospital, and referred my case to Dr V. Rao Nadella, M.D. whose specialty was General Medicine.


    ___Dr Nadella was a kind, soft-spoken man that I greatly respected and I put faith in his ability to cure me. He concurred with Dr Szczupak on the diagnosis of Cellulitis, but was concerned that something more malicious might be at work — considering my inability to extend the muscles and the extreme pain, which he claimed was atypical of the condition. He asked Dr Donald J. Deforno, M.D.(an orthopædic surgeon) for a consult and they decided to order an M.R.I. of my leg, with specialty images of the veins of my leg to rule out any deep venous thrombosis. The fear that I might develop an embolism or infarction was ever present in my mind, since my D-dimer results were indicative of possible clotting. I was placed on anticoagulants along with the intravenous antibiotics.


    ___On the morning of 17 January 2008, Dr Deforno informed me that neither clots nor abscesses had been discovered on the M.R.I. and Dr Nadella would be in shortly to discuss my outpatient treatment and to discharge me. Dr Nadella entered my room and after a brief examination said that he had discovered a tear in my muscle — on the M.R.I.  — and what appeared to be a hæmatoma, i.e. a collection of blood. He decided to terminate the anticoagulant treatment, lest the bleeding worsen. He sent me home on a ten day course of Cephalexin, an antibiotic that should have eliminated the Cellulitus. As for the hæmatoma and muscle tear, only time and nature could heal them.


    ___I went home and resumed my busy life. I went to my place of employment and was received warmly by the chief executive officer and nursing director. They had terminated my employment as a matter of principle — after three days without calling in and without showing up. Both showed great concern and it was hinted at that my employment could be restored if and when I had recovered from my injury.


    ___Unfortunately, all was not well. Though at first the inflammation and redness seemed to recede, the pain doubled and then tripled. By Thursday, 22 January 2008, I was feverish with occasional delirium. The pain was such that I began to involuntarily hyperventilate until my limbs became numb and my mind was disoriented. I was again rushed to the E.R. and this time cared for by Dr John Bresnik, M.D. — an acquaintance of mine, having experienced his hospitality within his home at a cocktail party. I was delirious at this point, oxygen cannulæ threaded into my nostrils and tubes into my veins. I was again admitted to the hospital. I was placed on a strong dose of Gentamicin and persisted in this way — feverishly — for several days. On the third day of my admittance the Rev Fr Samuel B. Slocum came to see me.


    ___I spoke with him at length and he asked if I should like to make a confession of my sins, that I may be absolved of my offenses. I begged that this be so and asked that I be given a short while to examine my conscience. When he returned I spilled forth such a confession that it would make any man, no matter his own sin, to blush. He absolved me and advised me so that I could avoid future iniquity. Then he performed the rites of Extreme Unction, anointing the organs of sense, i.e. my eyes, ears, nostrils, lips, hands, and feet. Then he offered to me Our Lord’s most holy Body and I was filled with such ecstasy that I cannot describe it in words. It was then, cleansed of my sin, that I realised what I had forsaken. It was then that all was made clear, but my ordeal was not over.

    Wherein the author makes a long trip to a secular Lourdes



    ___My condition did not improve, even after adding a second antibiotic — Ceftriaxone. Unable to offer further services to me, Dr Nadella had me transferred to UPMC’s Presybterian Hospital campus in Oakland, Pittsburgh. I was blessed to have been referred to one of the most consistently honoured hospitals in the nation, with specialties in both infectious disease and orthopædics.


    ___I was admitted 30 January 2008 at two o’clock in the afternoon. I was met with Dr Kristian Feterik, M.D., with whom I was able to discuss my illness with some level of profundity. He continued to deliver antibiotics and ordered a computed tomography scan of my leg.


    ___At first it was thought that I had a abscess and a line of nearly twelve orthopædic resident surgeons filed in from two o’clock to four o’clock on the morning of 31 January 2008. After much consultation and differential diagnosis this panel of doctors ruled on the side of caution and decided to perform another M.R.I. After this M.R.I., which took nearly three hours to complete, there was some dispute among them as to whether it was merely a hæmatoma or an abscess. Considering the atypical size — somewhere between the size of an orange and a grapefruit — they determined that it was not likely that it should be an abscess. Since the infection was not diminishing in its potency I was delivered a steady dose of Vancomycin, a drug of ‘last resort’, and after four days the senior attending orthopædic surgeon, Dr Gary S. Gruen, M.D. in coöperation with my primary attending decided to perform an Incision & Drainage operation on the affected region. They decided that they could not only take cultures, but if it was an abscess they could drain and irrigate it and if it was a hæmatoma they could still therapeutically drain it without ill effect.


    ___On 4 February 2008, I was given a general anaesthetic and taken to the operating room. An incision approximately two inches long was made in my upper calf, several biopsies were taken and the procedure was suspended, due to too little knowledge of the nature of the malady. The incision was closed with sterile surgical tape and I was sent back to my room to await the test results. Testing was done to rule out a cancerous lesion and to identify the infectious bacteria. By 10 January 2008 the final review of the ontology tests came back negative and a breath of air was released by all involved. While it was now considered a fact that this collection was indeed an abscess, the pus had been so violently bombarded by antibiotic that all the cultures had been sterilised. It was not possible to determine the bacterium responsible, though most were of the mind that it was a simple case of Staphylococcus aureus. A simple staph infection that had become so bloated that it nearly killed me. My immune system was so compromised that had I developed general sepsis, I would not be writing these words, but rather would find myself consumed by worms and maggots. I thank God and bless Him that He preserved my body throughout.


    ___On 11 January 2008, Dr Gruen performed a full I & D operation, irrigating the cleansed area with antibiotics and removing those areas affected by muscle necrosis, approximately 20% of the muscle and 15% of the tendon. The incision is nearly eight inches long and was sutured on the interior, with surgical tape on the exterior. My leg was placed in a splint and I was discharged on 15 February 2008 at eleven o’clock in the morning. I visited with my mother and siblings for a little while at their house in Clarion, PA and then we made our way back to Bradford, a trip totaling nearly four hours.

    Wherein the author returns to his flat and to his God



    ___With great effort I made it to my apartment and found myself on the road to recovery. A few days later a cane arrived in the mail. It was a dark, hardwood cane crafted from the heartwood of the African Wenga tree with a rich, orange ostrich leather tourist handle. I perceived it with some terror, for it was identical to that which I had seen in my dream. Having told this story to only three people I ruled them out one by one as having sent it as some cruel joke. Mr P. J. Etherington, Esq. and his sister, Lauren, have dubbed it the ‘demon cane’, thinking it somehow the work of Satan. However it may have come to me I have accepted it and use it to this day, neither caring nor desiring an explanation.


    ___On 5 March 2008 the splint was removed and my emaciated leg revealed, the muscle mass greatly reduced. The gastrocnemius muscle was still severely contracted at a forty-five degree angle and I was only able to walk on the ball of my foot. Physical therapy was prescribed and I again returned home. It was expected that I should be able to extend my leg in three months, and with appropriate strength training walk with some normality in six months. No certainty was given to my recovery and talk was had about further surgeries and possible tendon severance and external bracing. With regular prayers slipping from my lips I waited out the weekend.


    ___On 8 March 2008 I awoke at six o’clock in the morning, feeling very spry. I bathed, shaved, groomed and clothed; took a little coffee and went to the eight o’clock mass at my home parish, S. Bernard de Clairvaux; I prayed prolifically, but abstained from communion. I then remained, prayed the Stations of the Cross and attended the ten o’clock mass, as well. As I limped to the Rev. Fr Leo Gallina to communicate I opened my mouth and partook of Our Lord. Returning to my pew I knelt — with great pains — and contemplated my complete conversion to Him. Ms Rosalie Salerno, a wealthy property owner and friend of mine, touched my shoulder as I knelt there and pity was in her eyes. I felt a fool, broken and lame before these people and I wept silently as I prayed to God. When I stood it took fifty seconds for me to realise that my leg was straight and my foot was on the ground. It was still weak beyond description and would not support me on its own, nor could I walk without a walking instrument, but it was straightened. Now I tend toward scepticism in such situations, because when the laws of nature seem to be suspended it is best to be prudent in attribution. Nevertheless, though I could imagine circumstances under which this could happen naturally and even it it did happen naturally, sometimes there are a consecution of coincidences which so baffle the mind that to deny the intrinsic elements of design therein would be folly of the greatest order.


    ___Thus I find myself blessed and returning to the bosom of the Lord. Are we not called to humble… [ourselves] under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt… [us] in due time: Casting all… [our] care upon him; for he careth for… [us]. Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice. Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.


    ___Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.