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Lester Finds the Answer
Have, be, and do whatever you will or
desire.
A Modern American Master Tells
of Going From His Deathbed to His Finding the Answers to
Health, Happiness and Prosperity, and How You
Can Do It Too.
At the end of two weeks, Dr. Schultz arrived
for his regular morning visit, and after examining his patient, pulled
up a chair and sat down.
"I'm discharging you today. Your condition
is stable, and there's no reason to keep you here any longer. Now that
doesn't mean you're well. Far from it. You need an indefinite period
of convalescence as well as checkups at regular intervals. But you don't
need to be in the hospital any longer. You can continue with bed rest
and medication at home."
The doctor went on to outline his at-home
program of rest, medication, and regular office visits; his diet; social
activities (none); even his sex life (also none). Lester was surprised,
but determined to follow doctor's orders.
"How long will this go on, Doc?" he asked.
"How long do I have to take it easy like this? I realize you can't tell
me exactly, but can you give me some idea?" He watched the doctor
carefully as he waited for an answer. It seemed like a long time before
Dr. Schultz spoke.
"How old are you, son?"
That wasn't what he expected. He wondered
what was coming next. There was something in the doctor's manner he
didn't like. "Forty-two," he answered and waited.
Dr. Schultz looked out the window, his face
impassive as he sat lost in thought. After a long moment, during
which neither man moved, the doctor nodded his head once, a sharp decisive
movement which frightened Lester, and spoke abruptly and with finality.
"From now on, I'm afraid."
"What do you mean, from now on?" A very
sick feeling was rising from his gut, up into his stomach.
"I mean that you cannot expect to live a
normal life from here on." He went on quickly when he saw Lester's shocked
look. "You've just had a very serious coronary; you're lucky to be alive
at all. Anyone else would have been dead by now with the severity of
this attack." The doctor paused, then cleared his throat, "I realize
how difficult it must be for you to hear this, but I assure you it isn't
pleasant for me either." He got up abruptly and walked to the
window, his back to Lester. "I wish there were something else I could
say; I wish I could tell you that in a few months you'd be back to normal
and could pick up your life where you left off," he paused, turning
to face Lester quietly, "but I can't. In all conscience, I can't tell
you that And I'm sorry."
Lester was angry now. "You're sorry? Well,
so am I! You saved my life ... for what? So that I can be an invalid
for the rest of it? What the hell kind of life are you giving me back
anyway?"
Once started, he couldn't stop. He raved
on and on. All his frustration, rage and anger poured out until the
sick feeling in the pit of his stomach finally rose to his throat and
he began to cough and choke. The doctor held a basin for him while he
gagged and heaved and finally fell back exhausted onto the pillows,
his hand shaking as he reached up to wipe his mouth.
The doctor was shaking too as he carried
the soiled basin to the bathroom. He carefully placed it on the floor,
then hunched over the sink, one hand on each side of it supporting his
weight, his forehead touching the cold mirror of the medicine chest
on the wall. In spite of all his years of practice, these situations
still affected him. He thought of home and wished he were there now,
his day over, relaxing before dinner with a drink or two. With a deep
sigh, he pulled himself erect and walked back into the room.
"I'll sign the discharge papers today. but
you can stay on if you want," he said quietly "If you need more time
to make your arrangements, I'll tell the nurse it's okay." He didn't
know what else to say.
Lester answered, "No, that's all right,
I'll leave today, this afternoon. There doesn't seem to be any point
in prolonging it"
"All right, whatever you decide is all right.
But remember that you can change your mind and stay a bit longer if
you want." He stood in silence for a moment, while he closely examined
Lester's ashen face. "Please be sure to take it easy when you get home.
I can't overemphasize the importance of that. You shouldn't climb any
stairs at all. And do you have shoes without laces; you know, loafers?"
"Loafers? No, why?"
"You might want to have someone buy you
a pair. It's better if you don't have to bend over to tie your shoes.
It puts an additional strain on your heart when you get into that position."
The idea struck Lester as ridiculous but
all he said was "Okay, whatever you say." He'd always hated loafers
but it didn't matter now. Then as he watched the doctor walk toward
the door, a question occurred to him. "Doc," he asked, "I'm not going
to die, am I? I mean, I might have to kind of take it easy from here
on, but I'm not going to die, right?"
Dr. Schultz stopped. "I don't know," he
answered, then turned to face Lester. "I wish I could give you a positive
answer, but I can't. The truth is that I simply don't know. You've had
a massive heart attack and you could live for another year or two, or
you could go tomorrow. I just don't know."
"Thanks for being honest with me, Doc. I'll
be seeing you."
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