Can't Wait to Get to Heaven (17 page)

Bud, the other half of the
Bud and Jay Show,
had not gone home yet and was still at work when he received the second phone call from Verbena. “Bud,” she said somewhat sheepishly, “this is Verbena Wheeler over in Elmwood Springs. Listen, uh, cancel what I told you earlier about Elner Shimfissle. It was a mistake, she’s not dead after all.”

“What?”

“Yes, Bud, she’s somehow defied the odds and lived. Praise the Lord.”

After Bud hung up, he vowed that was the last time he
ever
reported anything on the show that had not been verified. Now he knew just how CNN and FOX News felt when they jumped the gun on a story. He quickly jotted down a note to give Bill Dollar of the
Dollar Bill and Pattie
afternoon show that was currently on the air. He wanted to get it announced as soon as possible. In a few minutes, after Pattie finished doing the commercial, Bill, just having read the note handed to him, said to his cohost, “Well, Pattie, it looks as if we’ve had a little miscomputation somewhere down the line. According to Bud, Mrs. Elner Shimfissle of Elmwood Springs has not passed away, as earlier reported this morning on the
Shop and Swap
show, and evidently is very much alive. Sorry about that, folks…What was it that Mark Twain said, ‘The news of my death has been greatly exaggerated.’ Well, it seems like that’s the case here.” Pattie was laughing and called out to Bud, who was standing in the control room. “Hey, Bud, you kinda jumped the gun on Mrs. Shimfissle, didn’t you? I’m sure if she was listening it was news to her. Well, anyhow…welcome back to the living, Mrs. Shimfissle!”

By the time the last report was broadcast over the air, Luther Griggs was already out of state and long out of the WDOT listening area, but was still thinking about what an impact Miss Elner had had on his life. True, he had spent six months in the state prison because he had trashed his daddy’s and his daddy’s new wife’s trailer while they had been in Nashville attending a Clint Black concert. He had taken only what was rightfully his: hunting boots, a gun, four Kennedy silver dollars, and a television set that his daddy had kept when he had thrown Luther out the last time. But nevertheless, they called it breaking and entering, and when he had been in jail, Elner had sent him some fig preserves with a note.

“Honey, don’t get yourself all tattooed up, that’s all I ask.”

Luther had wanted the flaming sword with “Jesus Saves” on his shoulder, but didn’t get it. He was the only person his age, man or woman, who did not have at least a nose ring or something, but he had not wanted to disappoint Elner. He was sorry about not being able to be there for the funeral. At one time she had picked him to be one of her pallbearers, before she’d changed her mind and decided to have herself cremated instead. He had been disappointed at the time, because he had entertained so many fantasies about himself walking into the church, having people whisper, “There’s Luther Griggs. She thought the world of him, you know. He was like a son to her.” And things like that. He thought that maybe after the funeral was over, he would stand around with the family, maybe right beside Linda, and shake people’s hands. After that he would probably be invited over to the house for food and drinks. He wasn’t sure what all went on at funerals, but he figured as an “official pallbearer” he certainly would have to be included in everything. He had felt important just thinking about it, but now the only thing that was important was the fact that she was dead, and he felt all alone in the world again. He now wished he had a picture of her. When he had worked as an exterminator’s helper one summer, he had seen inside a lot of nice houses and noticed that people had photographs of their families sitting around everywhere. He sure did not want any pictures of his family, but now he thought that it would be nice to have one of Miss Elner in a frame. He could keep it on his dresser.

He planned it all out in his mind as he drove. When he got back he would ask Mrs. Warren if she had a picture of Miss Elner that he could borrow, and then he’d take it out to the Wal-Mart and have them make a copy. He then wished he had a picture of them together. Maybe there was some way the people out at Wal-Mart could take a picture of him and make one up of the two of them. Make it look like they were together at the time. He had seen a lot of nice frames out at Tuesday Morning right next to the plastic flowers.

A Happier Time

3:38
PM

A
s Elner lay there being scanned from tip to top, she was bored, and wished she had taken the nurse up on that headphone thing. Just to pass the time, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts slip back to another place, long ago. She thought about the old farm; she could almost see her husband, Will, again, way off in the distance, plowing the fields with his mule, waving at her. She smiled to herself as she recalled the best time of day, when Will finished his work and would come banging into the house calling out for her, “Hey, woman. Where’s that good-looking wife of mine?” After he had his bath, they would have a big supper: some kind of meat, fresh vegetables, and a good dessert, and spend the rest of the evening just being together, listening to the radio or reading. Usually in bed by eight-thirty or nine.

Will had originally come from Kentucky. When they first met, he was working his way across the country, trying to get to California, and her daddy had hired him for a few weeks to help out on the farm. Six years earlier, their mother had died, leaving Elner, the eldest girl, to take over the cooking and cleaning and the raising of her two younger sisters. During Will’s stay, Elner had prepared all his meals, but he had not said much except “mighty fine victuals” and “thank you, ma’am.”

When his two weeks were up, Elner, her father, and her sisters had all been sitting out on the porch when Will walked up and stood in the yard, took his hat off, and said, “Mr. Knott, before I leave, I’d like your permission to speak to your daughter.” Henry Knott, a big six-foot-three man, had said, “Sure, son. Go ahead and speak your piece.”

Although he was a quiet boy, Elner liked him, and so she was happy he was interested in one of her sisters. She assumed he was probably sweet on Gerta, she was slender and had red hair, or maybe Ida, a dazzling brunette with green eyes who was only sixteen but already had plenty of boys buzzing around. Elner was a tall big-boned girl who had taken after her father’s side of the family and had never had a beau, and with her two pretty sisters around certainly never planned on having one. However, that afternoon, little Will Shimfissle, not more than five-foot-five inches tall and one hundred fifteen pounds soaking wet, hat in hand had walked over and stopped directly in front of her. “Elner Jane,” he’d said, clearing his throat, “as soon as I can earn enough money to get a place of my own, I intend to come back and ask you to be my wife. What I need to know before I go is, do I stand a chance?”

This unexpected event had taken Elner so by surprise, she had immediately burst into tears, jumped up, and run into the house. Will was totally taken aback and had looked over to Mr. Knott for help. “Sir, was that a yes or a no?” Her father was as baffled as Will and answered, “Well, son, it could mean either one, you never can tell about women, let me go find out.” He got up and went inside and knocked on the bedroom door. “Elner, that boy’s out there waiting for an answer, you need to tell him something, I don’t think he’s going to leave till you do.” Then he heard Elner cry even louder. He opened the door and went in and sat on the bed beside her. She looked up at him tearfully. “It was just such a surprise, I don’t know what to say.”

He took her hand and patted it. “Well, I guess it comes down to this, you have to decide. Do you want that little bitty thing for a husband or not?”

She looked up with tears running down her face. “I think I do, Daddy,” she said, and burst into tears again.

“You do?” Now he was surprised. He had not seen this coming at all. He hated the thought of losing Elner but said, “Well, honey, he’s not big enough to make much of a husband, but he’s a hard worker, I’ll say that for him, so if you want him, go on out there and tell him.”

“I can’t. You tell him.”

He said, “Well, daughter, it would mean a lot more coming from you, but all right.” He stood up and walked out onto the porch, shook his head in amazement, and said, “I don’t understand it, boy, but you got yourself a yes.” Both the girls screamed, jumped up, and ran inside to find Elner, giggling and excited. Will beamed from ear to ear and walked up and shook Mr. Knott’s hand. “Thank you, sir, thank you,” he said. “You tell her I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I will.” Then Mr. Knott put his hand on Will’s shoulder, pulled him aside so the others couldn’t hear, and said quietly, “You know you got the best of the lot, don’t you, son?”

Will looked him straight in the eye and answered, “Yes sir, I do.”

True to his word, Will came back a year and a half later and bought twenty-five acres about ten miles from her daddy’s farm. Elner had never expected to marry, had never dreamed she would be the first sister to get married. But later Will told her he had her picked out from the start. “I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you that you were the one for me. Yes sir.” He said, “You are my big strong beautiful woman.” They made an odd couple, tall and stocky Elner and little skinny Will, but they had been happy together, and she couldn’t wait to see him again.

Meanwhile, back in Elmwood Springs, poor Verbena Wheeler had been so embarrassed to have to call the radio station back, and now she wished she hadn’t walked over and told Cathy at the newspaper office about Elner, but she had. She picked up her Bible and flipped through it looking for help. After finally finding the perfect quote, she dialed Cathy.

“Cathy? Verbena. I want to read you something from Luke 8:52 to 55.”

“Oh, Lord,” thought Cathy, “not again.” But said, “All right.”

“Are you listening?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“But he said, ‘Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping.’ And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But he took her by the hand and called out, ‘Child, get up!’ Her spirit returned, and she got up at once.”

Cathy tried to be patient and waited for her to explain why she had to read it to her, but Verbena was silent.

“Yes, and…?”

“I think you should know that we have a similar situation going on right this very minute.
Elner Shimfissle just got up!
”

She Did What?

3:39
PM

F
ranklin Pixton, the head of Caraway Hospital administration, was a tall, natty, preppy-looking man of fifty-two. He dressed in a neat suit, striped shirt, and bow tie, and wore horn-rimmed glasses. He was a typical upper-level executive whose main job was to hobnob with the old rich and the new rich and raise money for the hospital, a job he did well. He and his wife belonged to the right clubs, his children attended the right schools, they lived in the right redbrick English Tudor home. He was not about to let some small matter like a patient mistakenly being declared dead put his hospital at risk. After he received the phone call, he told the nurse that he wanted to see all involved personnel in his office in one hour, and gave instructions that they were not to discuss the matter with anyone.

He then hung up and immediately dialed the hospital lawyer, Winston Sprague, a specialist in risk management matters.

“We have a situation,” Pixton said.

“What?”

“Patient pronounced dead. Several hours later she started talking.”

“Oh shit,” said Sprague.

“Graphic, but correct.”

“Who was informed?”

“Just the immediate family, as far as I know.”

“OK,” said the lawyer, “do not…accept responsibility, admit any blame or fault. You can apologize that it happened, yes, but make it vague…nothing specific. Do not think or say the word
malpractice.
Give me thirty minutes to get there. I’ll meet you downstairs.” The young lawyer, who was nicknamed “Preppy Number Two,” grabbed his briefcase with the usual waiver inside, threw on his jacket, slicked his hair down in the back, and took a deep breath. He had to go over there and win one for the Gipper. The Gipper in this case was his boss, Preppy Number One. Franklin Pixton. Winston Sprague was most interested in getting into the country club, and Pixton was his ticket in. Sprague was also going to make a million dollars by the time he was thirty, and he didn’t care who or what he stepped over to get it. His motto: “Screw the little people.” He had lied before, and he would lie again. Ethics were for suckers. He’d gotten over thinking there was right and wrong years ago. As far as he was concerned, there was only winning or losing. But, other than having total disdain for the entire human race and thinking everybody in the world was stupid, he was just your average snide, cynical, smart-ass.

A half hour later the red-haired lawyer walked out of one elevator and Franklin came out of the other one. They walked over to the desk and Franklin inquired, “Where is the next of kin?” The girl pointed to room 607.

Norma was now in a private room, sitting up on the bed, drinking a glass of orange juice, after having fainted again, and was being observed by an emergency room doctor to make sure she was going to be all right.

“Oh, Mrs. Warren,” Franklin oozed, “I’m Franklin Pixton, and this is my associate Winston Sprague. We were just called and told of the situtation…and I came down as soon as I heard. First of all, how are you?”

Norma said, “Well, I’m still so rattled I can hardly think straight. First they told me she was dead and then we find out she’s not, one minute I’m heartbroken and then the next I’m overjoyed she’s alive, and now I just feel like somebody has thrown me up against a wall.”

“I can understand.” Franklin nodded.

“My poor daughter’s so upset, I’m just surprised my husband didn’t have a heart attack. Look at this, my hair is coming out.” She showed them a few strands of hair that had indeed fallen out, then turned to the doctor. “Can shock cause your hair to fall out, Doctor? Oh, God, don’t tell me that now I’m going to have to wear a wig.”

“Mrs. Warren, is there anything, anything at all, we can do? All of us here feel so terrible about this. Naturally all of your aunt’s hospital expenses will be voided.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you, Mr….”

“Pixton.”

“Mr. Pixton, but you don’t have to do that, we’re just so thankful she’s alive, surprised but thankful.”

“No, Mrs. Warren. I insist, we really want to make it up to you and your family for any…uh…” He glanced over at Sprague for the correct word.

The lawyer said, “Inconvenience.”

“That’s right, any inconvenience you might have experienced,” he said as the lawyer handed him the paper he had just pulled out of his briefcase.

“But in the meantime, if you could just sign this for us.”

“What is it?” asked Norma. “I already signed a lot of things earlier.”

“Just a small formality, making sure that down the line you are protected if anything…ah…if you need something…and that we are protected. We feel it’s best to take care of it now, so we can get it processed as soon as possible.”

“Protected from what?”

Sprague jumped in. “It’s really more to assure you that no expenses will be incurred while your aunt is here under our care.”

“Oh, I see,” said Norma. “I appreciate that, but really, you shouldn’t have to pay our bills, it’s not your fault this happened.”

If anything was music to somebody’s ears, to Sprague and Pixton, Norma’s last statement, “It’s not your fault,” was an entire concerto by Beethoven.

Norma continued, “If anything, we should apologize to you. I feel so bad about that little nurse. I think she was scared half out of her wits. I hope she’s all right. They say she hasn’t come back yet.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Mrs. Warren.”

“I hope so. I’m sorry I got so upset and fainted twice, but you have to understand, you may be used to this happening all the time, but I’m not.”

They both nodded sympathetically. “No need to apologize to us, Mrs. Warren. The only thing you can do for us is to sign the paper so we can get everything in motion.”

Norma still seemed reluctant. “Maybe I should ask my husband. I don’t think he would want you to pay for anything. It’s probably going to be a big bill.”

The lawyer jumped in. “Don’t you worry about it, we have insurance that covers this kind of thing.”

Franklin added: “Very common, happens all the time…”

The lawyer Sprague nodded. “Very common.”

“Well, all right,” said Norma. “I still think I shouldn’t, but if you insist.”

“Oh, we do, it’s the least we can do.”

“The least we can do,” echoed the lawyer.

As Norma signed the paper, it was all they could do not to jump up in the air and give each other a high five, but they remained cool. She had not read the clause stating that she waived her right to hold the hospital responsible.

Mr. Pixton pulled out his card and wrote a number on it. “Here is my office number and my home number, and promise me, if you or your family need anything, anything at all, you call me.”

“And here’s mine,” said the lawyer. “I’m available twenty-four hours a day.” After they left the room, Norma turned to the doctor and said, “Wasn’t that nice of them, to do that?”

The doctor wanted to say something, but didn’t.

As both men stood waiting for their elevator, Franklin said quietly, “We just dodged a big fat bullet.”

Later, back at his office, Winston Sprague felt not even the slightest twinge of guilt. He had an obligation to protect the hospital before that slimy shyster, slip and sue, ambulance-chasing lawyer Gus Shimmer found out and showed up and got ahold of the Warren woman. Somebody inside the hospital had been supplying him with information about every potential malpractice event that took place, and it had cost the hospital millions. Good thing the Warren woman had been so stupid and had not read what she’d signed. She had a legitimate case; it was clearly their fault. But how much should one mistake cost? Was it worth the millions of dollars they would have to pay? It’s not like they were trying to kill their patients.

Franklin Pixton went straight back to his office as well. Now that the legal matter was handled with Mrs. Warren, he needed to get to the bottom of the situation ASAP. He pushed his intercom. “Brenda, I want the names of all staff on duty this morning.”

One staff member, the young nurse who an hour earlier had run out of Elner’s room screaming at the top of her lungs, had just been picked up by her mother at a 7-Eleven about two miles from the hospital. As they drove home her mother asked her again.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you back to work?”

“I told you, I’m never going back there. I quit.”

“You can’t just quit.”

“Yes, I can too.”

“Are you going to let all your nurse’s training go to waste over this one little incident?”

“When dead people sit up and start talking, you bet I am.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m doing nails, like I wanted to in the first place.”

The mother sighed. “Well, it’s your life, I guess.”