My dying best friend
March 9, 2014 at 11:19 am
(This post was last modified: March 9, 2014 at 11:36 am by Mudhammam.)
I want to talk about something that I don't often discuss. Maybe I should. I actually think if I had to link my departure from faith to any emotional component (believe me, there are still plenty of intellectual reasons), this would be my most thorough conviction, purely of intuition, that the Abrahamic Gods are myth.
I've worked in the mental health field for about seven years now. I've worked with people who had all kinds of fucked up issues, from paraplegics whose asses I've literally wiped to those with minor mental or physical dysfunctions. One person I worked with for five years accidentally shot himself in the head with a hollow tip bullet at point blank and died three times on the way to the hospital. He was in a coma for over a year but survived against all odds, though now cannot develop any new long-term memories (he told me the same stories, same jokes, dozens of times). Great guy, always upbeat. Oh, and he told me being dead was nothingness, he didn't recall any of it, like being asleep. Make of it what you will.
Another I knew and actually became friends with after he left the program I worked for was a guy we'll just call Ed. Ed was wheelchair bound with the less extreme form of muscular dystrophy. He used to skateboard until the age of 14 or 15 when he had to then move to crutches and eventually a wheelchair. It fucked him up, mentally. You could tell his hope in life was diminished. He'd never walk again. The two of us used to make music together (rap) and he lived with me for a short time. He died at the end of 2012, only at the age of 23, from an overdose of prescription drugs (he was also addicted to crack and heroin, which he sold because he couldn't really work--had very little muscle strength, just enough in his arms to get in and out of bed himself and to wheel himself around).
Anyway, when I was 18 years old one of the first people I began working with was a boy who was then twelve years old. We'll call him Lucas because I don't want to (and legally can't) use his real name. He was born with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, the worst variety. His parents found out when he was five. It left them absolutely devastated (but they didn't lose their faith). For those who don't know, DMD is a degenerative cell condition that over a short time weakens a person's muscles so that they eventually lose all motor functionality, including their eyelids until their heart just one day stops working. That's how they die, typically living no longer than 21-22 years old. Lucas used to be able to walk, do everything a kid typically does. He gradually went to crutches, I think around 7-8, then a motorized wheelchair. When I met him he had already lost function of his legs. I go to his house 3-4 days a week for about 3 hours and play video games with him. It's what I do for a living to make money. Over time we've developed a close friendship, he's like my little brother. All his cognitive faculties are there (minus the benefit of a normal education and more friends--his parents didn't really push him in school and let him stay home most days when his muscle pains were too much to endure). He's an absolutely terrific guy. I love him. We goof off, make up silly raps and play games, listen to music (I've gotten him into 2Pac). Lucas will be 19 this April. He'll never get to go for a walk by himself or drive a car. He's missed out on so much and he will miss out on so much more. He's definitely lost some function in his arms (can't lift them up at all by himself now) since I first met him. Prognosis says he has about 2-3 years left to live. His parents have prayed for God to heal him but there is no cure or answer. The only hope at this point lies in embryonic stem cell research.
When people talk about the suffering in the world and whether or not it is possible that a loving and caring deity exists, I think they tend to forget what it's really like for some people and how much pointless chaos is truly part of our world. These are people. Witnessing this suffering first hand, with a friend that I know will die an awful end way too soon, I could never justify the notion that a loving or caring god as has some of kind influence or control over this life on Earth, at least intellectually or emotionally.
And also, Lucas and I have had some conversations about God. He believes what his parents have told him (they NEVER talk about death or anything like that with him), that there's a God and a heaven we all go to when we die. You know what? Maybe it's a good thing he does believe that?
I've worked in the mental health field for about seven years now. I've worked with people who had all kinds of fucked up issues, from paraplegics whose asses I've literally wiped to those with minor mental or physical dysfunctions. One person I worked with for five years accidentally shot himself in the head with a hollow tip bullet at point blank and died three times on the way to the hospital. He was in a coma for over a year but survived against all odds, though now cannot develop any new long-term memories (he told me the same stories, same jokes, dozens of times). Great guy, always upbeat. Oh, and he told me being dead was nothingness, he didn't recall any of it, like being asleep. Make of it what you will.
Another I knew and actually became friends with after he left the program I worked for was a guy we'll just call Ed. Ed was wheelchair bound with the less extreme form of muscular dystrophy. He used to skateboard until the age of 14 or 15 when he had to then move to crutches and eventually a wheelchair. It fucked him up, mentally. You could tell his hope in life was diminished. He'd never walk again. The two of us used to make music together (rap) and he lived with me for a short time. He died at the end of 2012, only at the age of 23, from an overdose of prescription drugs (he was also addicted to crack and heroin, which he sold because he couldn't really work--had very little muscle strength, just enough in his arms to get in and out of bed himself and to wheel himself around).
Anyway, when I was 18 years old one of the first people I began working with was a boy who was then twelve years old. We'll call him Lucas because I don't want to (and legally can't) use his real name. He was born with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, the worst variety. His parents found out when he was five. It left them absolutely devastated (but they didn't lose their faith). For those who don't know, DMD is a degenerative cell condition that over a short time weakens a person's muscles so that they eventually lose all motor functionality, including their eyelids until their heart just one day stops working. That's how they die, typically living no longer than 21-22 years old. Lucas used to be able to walk, do everything a kid typically does. He gradually went to crutches, I think around 7-8, then a motorized wheelchair. When I met him he had already lost function of his legs. I go to his house 3-4 days a week for about 3 hours and play video games with him. It's what I do for a living to make money. Over time we've developed a close friendship, he's like my little brother. All his cognitive faculties are there (minus the benefit of a normal education and more friends--his parents didn't really push him in school and let him stay home most days when his muscle pains were too much to endure). He's an absolutely terrific guy. I love him. We goof off, make up silly raps and play games, listen to music (I've gotten him into 2Pac). Lucas will be 19 this April. He'll never get to go for a walk by himself or drive a car. He's missed out on so much and he will miss out on so much more. He's definitely lost some function in his arms (can't lift them up at all by himself now) since I first met him. Prognosis says he has about 2-3 years left to live. His parents have prayed for God to heal him but there is no cure or answer. The only hope at this point lies in embryonic stem cell research.
When people talk about the suffering in the world and whether or not it is possible that a loving and caring deity exists, I think they tend to forget what it's really like for some people and how much pointless chaos is truly part of our world. These are people. Witnessing this suffering first hand, with a friend that I know will die an awful end way too soon, I could never justify the notion that a loving or caring god as has some of kind influence or control over this life on Earth, at least intellectually or emotionally.
And also, Lucas and I have had some conversations about God. He believes what his parents have told him (they NEVER talk about death or anything like that with him), that there's a God and a heaven we all go to when we die. You know what? Maybe it's a good thing he does believe that?
He who loves God cannot endeavour that God should love him in return - Baruch Spinoza
