Today's Court of Opinion

Welcome to “Today’s Court of Opinions.” Come in and join me. 

 

Please, no cameras or recordings of this proceeding. You are all entitled to express your thoughts, but I ask that you reserve them until all evidence is presented.

 

Today’s case is a complicated one. It involves God’s plan, the thoughts of an arrogant doctor, and the power of love. The jury’s task is to determine if someone’s life ran its course or if it was steered to its final destination by a man with a medical degree and the desire to play God.

 

To save time, the Judge and Jury have been selected (without their knowledge or approval). The freshly printed bulletin provides their names and a short synopsis of their qualifications.

 

I’ve hand-selected royowen (Roy) to represent the court and serve as today’s Judge. From frequent conversations, I’ve learned the many facets of this earthly man. He’s dwelled in the dark alleys of life, climbed the ladder of hope, and firmly planted his feet in the House of the Lord. His wisdom, love, and faith leave no doubt concerning his honesty and ability to represent all parties. His “readership,” “loyalty,” and “encouragement” to my scribblings in no way affected my decision. (Right!)

 

His official presence requires him to wear a floor-length black silk gown, a French jabot (a piece of white lace attached to a neckband and falling from his throat), and a full bottom wig. (In deference to my friend’s comfort, I will nix the wig). 

 

Juror Number One is the foreperson. This person needs to be well-educated, gentle yet assertive, and have experiences relevant to the case. 

 

My chosen foreperson is Karenina. A beautiful, loving spirit well versed in the field of medicine, but also in the nurturing of others. She shies away from elaborating on her own virtues but jumps at the chance to bolster the spirits of others. She is the perfect combination of common sense, knowledge, and caring. (Because of her current family health problems, we shall do our best to render this an open and shut case.) In other words, short and sweet!

 

The next set of jurors were chosen for their ability to sleuth out the evidence and follow through with extensive research. Initially, I thought of Mastery and his sidekick, Private Investigator Cleve Hawkins. Without missing a beat, the two have taken the reader deep into the sinister world of crime and found the true root of the current scandal. 

 

Unfortunately, Bob has more pressing matters and requested to be excused. Of course, I understood. I ordered a unique basket of smiles, hugs, and best wishes from all of us.

 

As I ventured through the cobwebbed halls of my mind, racking my brain for a worthy substitute, I stumbled (excuse the choice of words) into the Blind Girl. Embarrassment washed over me. I momentarily declared dementia. 

 

Why hadn’t the Lead Detective of Lafayette Township been my number one choice? After all, she’d recently solved Penny Waltham’s cold case with surprising ease. 

 

I’d heard she was on vacation near the gulf shores, eating steamed shrimp and drinking in the aromatic scent of sea and salt. A friend and co-worker, Lieutenant Miles Jean-Baptiste, was pursuing her talent to search for his missing sister, Camille. 

 

Fearing I’d lost my chance of snagging our Detective, I ordered several of her favorite albums from the local “Blast from the Past.” Groveling, I attached a note asking if she would honor me with her wisdom, skills, and thoughts. My need for a top-notch detective far exceeded my ego.

 

Of course, research was another critical factor. I needed people who were willing to spend hours digging through the vaults of medical files, ancient history, and the intricate workings of the law.

 

Lyenochka, alias Helen, has and will continue to amaze me with her research of ancient tribes (I’m amazed she didn’t dig up any of my family’s skeletons)  while skillfully operating and producing a feline help column. 

 

Jay Squires, a prolific writer, grabbed my attention with his published mystery-thrillers, a sci-fi trilogy, and countless other offerings. He mentioned allowing his “personal vanity” to cloud his vision. I latched on to that thought. In my opinion, the current defendant was endowed with an overabundance of the “God Syndrome,” and hopefully, Jay could enlighten me.

 

Next, I needed to add a warrior to my selection. This juror should be willing to throw himself into the frays of war, openly and honestly exposing all sides for raw examination, and retain his ability to laugh at and with the world. My choice was lancellot. He is the warrior among warriors. The royalty, generals, tribesmen are drawn to the ink from his pen. 

 

The following jurors were chosen for their ability to reach out and connect with the masses. Elizabeth Emerald (alias Liz) not only has countless followers but Scott and Chuck are bottomless pits of the strange and unusual. robyn corum (alias sweet baby face Robyn) has the ability to reach into the spirit world and conjure up the dead. My thoughts tell me this could prove quite relative to the case if our defendant is guilty.

 

Susan Newell, a stickler for all the correct details, is a shoo-in. Without a doubt, she will keep us on a straight path and not allow the case to meander down unrelated paths. Her proper and accurate thoughts will establish the sequences of events and the justifiable verdict.

 

Common sense and a wave of guilt forced me to justify my jury selection. Detectives, researchers, warriors and writers tend to look for the “sleaze” in the world. I needed to add some compassion and understanding to my group. 

 

Sandramitchell (my sweet dear Sandra) was at the top of the list, but she’s currently caught in the eye of a hurricane, delivering a baby. PattyPalmer has her hands full with a wedding and the shenanigans of Myrtle and Millie. I needed people who really cared about others.

 

Raffaelina Lowcock and Beth Shelby are my compassionate jurors. They’d both traveled the low roads and faced life’s struggles. They understand pain and sorrow, but also joy and everlasting love. They are the key to balance.

 

My list of possible contenders indicated Leann DS as an obvious choice for compassion, until I received a message asking if I would read her story. Of course, inquiring minds flipped right to the page. Her compassion faltered momentarily as she suggested we all “kiss her ass.” Her boldness made her a definite juror.

 

Last but far from least, my twelfth juror is a ringer. From the first moment, I had the privilege of meeting this man, he intrigued me. He could be compassionate. He could be beyond funny. He could offer crazy insight into things I had no idea existed or probably cared to know until the words flowed from his mouth.

 

Ric MyWorld is my wild card. The one that will keep us guessing until the last second. He is a combination of a gentleman, the entertainer, the magician, and the devious devil. He is the spice of life in this group of jurors. In the middle of a vicious debate, he might order a platter of seafood or a barbeque. (I’m up for that!)

 

You’ve met the jurors so let’s examine Case Number 10310. It centers around the love of my life, Mike. His medical chart is as thick as a City Directory. Over the course of eight years, I’d been told he wouldn’t make it, but each time he battled back and life was good again. Mike said I willed him to live. I doubt I have that power, but I know I’m on a “moment’s notice” relationship with God. I prayed, I pleaded, I even attempted bargaining to save the man I loved. Each time the doctors gave up, I smiled and God rewarded us.

 

Two months before the deed in question, Dr. Darkness (changed for legal reasons) met with Mike and me in the hospital room. My husband had been admitted for pneumonia and an irregular heartbeat. His sugar levels warranted the closing of Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. 

 

When the doctor entered with his entourage of ladies (which we learned were from Hospice) Mike and I were sitting on the side of the bed, munching on tuna fish sandwiches and a salad, laughing and pleased he was better.

 

Dr. Darkness proceeded to explain Hospice and how we should strongly consider going home with them in tow.

 

Mike’s tempered flared. “I’m not dying. Why would I need hospice?” 

 

I didn’t understand the rush. His tests indicated the pneumonia was gone. His heart rate was normal. Why write the final chapter ahead of time?

 

After a lengthy discussion, Dr. Darkness’ irritation with our refusal to accept his diagnosis and declining path spiraled and he left.   Mike was discharged and we went home in great spirits.

Approximately three weeks later, we returned to the hospital. This time his dialysis needed adjusting. His kidneys were failing (we’d been here before; three months in a coma and he bounced back).

 

During Mike’s dialysis treatment, Dr. Darkness paid me a visit. He asked why I kept fighting to keep my husband alive? I informed him as long as Mike wasn’t in pain, rebounded to his feisty self, and continued to want to live, I would be fighting tooth and nail in his corner. We were discharged again with a warning not to bring him back to the hospital. 

 

After numerous doctor visits to Dr. Kikta (Mike’s vascular surgeon), the decision was made to amputate the big toe. The surgery was scheduled, but unforeseen problems at Kikta’s office prevented the surgery.

 

Six weeks later, Mike fell, attempting to transfer from wheelchair to bed by himself. The EMTs arrived and I asked them to look at his foot. As I feared, it was gangrene. They transported him to the hospital. Instead of a toe, emergency surgery to remove his foot was performed. That was Sunday. 

 

On Monday, Dr. Kikta said the infection was spreading and the lower leg needed to be amputated. It was a rough week.

 

Doing hospital rounds, Dr. Darkness found us again. He requested to speak to me privately. He was livid and didn’t hide his anger. He demanded an explanation as to why I would bring my husband to the hospital, subject him to two surgeries, and other discomforts when I’d been told the man was dying.

It had been a fabulous day. The kids and I had laughed till our sides ached. Mike’s spirits were at the top of his game. There was no way I would let one hospital doctor determine our lives.

 

For the first time in days, I went home to shower and sleep. When I returned in the morning, I was shocked. My husband was in a coma. The nurse explained that Dr. Darkness had discharged him and arranged for hospice to take him home.

 

His medications were gone. His water was gone. His food was gone. The IV was out of his hand. The dialysis machine was disconnected and pushed to the side. 

 

Did I make a spectacle of myself? You bet I did! The entire second floor of the Heart Hospital ICU knew an irate woman was on the warpath. I placed call after call trying to find an explanation.

 

The bottom line… Mike was on medicare. Dr. Darkness decided there was no medical way to save him. When I wouldn’t do it his way, he unplugged him and ended it his way.

 

Two days later, in the comfort of our home, I whispered goodbye. 

 

Today’s Court of Opinion is asking if Dr. Darkness took matters into his own hands? Did he have the right to proceed without my consent? Yes, Mike’s days were numbered, but wasn’t he entitled to every one of those days? 

 

Once in my lifetime, tragedy struck and I couldn’t function. Everything was a blank slate. The time to battle is over, but…