THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO NATE
By
Encolpius
Author's Note: Thank you to Brentraz for proofreading. Having another pair of eyes is very helpful.
Feedback is always appreciated! Write to Encolpius1@protonmail.com
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NINE
Spring semester nursing clinicals were Maternal-Child and Pediatrics. I didn't see a real birth, but there was the delivery of an intrauterine fetal death, which was sad. Strangely, I helped with an abortion, a dilation and curettage. It was a woman, not that much older than me, who had gotten in vitro fertilization and developed a serious condition called ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome. The only solution was to end the pregnancy, to prevent her from dying. A number of the regular nurses opted out from helping with the procedure because it was an abortion. But I was willing to help. The surgeon was quite friendly and explained everything.
For the pediatrics part of the course, we did clinicals at the health department. I did some physical exams, even though I wasn't very good at them. In the hospital I examined a young kid with Ewing's sarcoma who had lost a leg. Then there was a 12-year-old after an appendectomy. We also did clinicals in the nursery -- and I really liked the babies.
Isaac and I dated for about 3 months before it ended. We parted on pretty friendly terms though. He decided to move in with a buddy in Jacksonville, and go to technical school there to study computer repair. I was sad about the break-up, but I understood. Even Charlie was sorry, since he had liked Isaac a lot.
When I turned 21, Charlie treated me to a trip to Key West. I shouldn't have let him do it but I did. I guess he was my sugar daddy, and I guess I actually had become okay with that. We were both happy with the situation. We stayed at a place called Big Ruby's in the center of town. It was a gay guesthouse, men only. And clothing optional. I was a little bit shy about that.
"You're beautiful Nate!" Charlie reminded me when I mentioned my shyness. "You have gorgeous blue eyes and a beautiful body that you work hard to maintain. You always have a ready but slightly shy smile. And... a big dick. You are physically perfect. And I know that you are the sweetest, kindest boy in the world -- even though you have no idea how special you are."
I didn't know what to say to that. But I thought he might be angling to make the other older gay guys -- who were primarily the hotel's guests -- jealous. So I just asked if he was.
"Oh definitely!" Charlie said. "I hit the jackpot and I want to show off!"
I laughed. I liked that he could be honest with me. And I had to admit, I liked skinny-dipping in the pool and giving the older guys some "eye candy". I got to feeling more comfortable being naked with only men being around, even if they were gay. I could understand guys. Women were a mystery to me, and frankly a mystery I wasn't interested in solving.
For supper we went out to eat at a good seafood place, and Charlie paid. I felt bad about that and offered to buy a meal.
"This is your Happy Birthday trip, Chick!" he said. "It's my treat."
There was a strip club on Truman called Ocean's, so we went to see the boys take off their clothes. That was fun. Back at Big Ruby's, I did a little striptease by the pool after dark, with Charlie and a couple of other guys cheering me on. I was a little bit drunk and uninhibited as I did it, so I guess it was funny. Sexy funny. That night, I topped Charlie, slow and sensual. I was really enjoying the tropical paradise the warm nights, and yes, even the freedom of nudity. A couple of times I did drink more than I should have, and one night Charlie had to kind of pour me into the bed.
The next day, a small group of us were hanging out naked by the pool, and a short, bald guy kind of horned into our conversation. He was quite short and roly-poly with a shaved bald head. He started talking to a guy who Charlie had been chatting with. I'd been mostly listening. This new guy, it was pretty plain, was sort of obnoxious. He rapidly made it clear that he had been a Baptist minister. And maybe he still was some sort of minister -- I wasn't exactly sure about that.
"The Bible doesn't actually condemn homosexuality," he stated. "It really doesn't."
"Yea, it does," Charlie said. "Homosexuality is only mentioned in passing, but it is in a clearly negative context."
They argued (Charlie later told me it was a discussion not an argument - but it seemed like an argument to me) about Sodom and Gomorrah and the Holiness Code and parsing a couple of words in Greek. Charlie knew Greek better than the other guy did, so he was quite confident in his argument. It was all over my head in a way, but I kind of wanted the minister to be right. I wanted the Bible to not condemn being gay. I still thought God existed, though maybe He didn't - like Charlie had said to me on many occasions. But I didn't like thinking that God hated me for being this way, when this way seemed so right for me. I almost got mad at Charlie for arguing with the Baptist guy about it.
The minister countered that Paul had no knowledge of a monogamous, unabusive homosexual relationship. He noted that there was a powerful stigma in the 1st century against one male penetrating another male. And in fact, all homosexual sex was morally problematic -- master/slave, or cult prostitution, or pederasty.
Charlie laughed. "But then it is rather obvious that Paul was anti-sex anyway. He was against heterosexual sex. The only reason he approved of marriage was if someone found that they couldn't control their sexual desire any other way: "It's better to marry than to burn." And that was his view on the type of sexual relations he thought of as "natural!" I'm sorry, but Paul was an anti-gay bigot."
The minister started to make another argument, but Charlie cut him off: "It doesn't really matter. I think Paul being anti-gay is just one more good reason to not be Christian. What does it actually matter what Paul thought? I see no reason to believe that Paul has any special insight into the mind, nature or character of God -- or what God wants or thinks or is. Paul's just another religious nut job."
Later on, Charlie apologized to me. He knew I believed in God, and he didn't mean to be disrespectful to my beliefs. I appreciated him being concerned about my feelings. But I honestly told him that I didn't really know for sure if God existed. And even if He or She did exist, I was not convinced it was reasonable to think God cared a whole lot who had sex with whom -- as long as it wasn't coercive or forced.
"And I think that's right" Charlie said. "If there's love and affection, then it can't be really wrong."
I agreed - but I wondered whether he thought I loved him.
"Don't worry Chick," he said smiling. "I think you have affection for me, and yes, love after a fashion. But what I hope most of all for you is that you find the love you deserve in the arms of a man who will treat you like the prize you are."
The next day, our last in Key West, was the first time Charlie had belly pain. It was just a gripping, right-upper-quadrant pain with loose bowels. He attributed it to having drunk too much and eaten too much during our vacation week. I was obviously concerned, so I drove the 7 hours back home when he told me he didn't feel up to it.
That summer, I did my clinicals at school and worked at the hospital. Charlie had abdominal pain several more times during those weeks. But he ignored my requests for him to go see a doctor.
At the end of the summer, Charlie went to a conference focused on the Nag Hammadi Library, this big cache of ancient gnostic documents. He was excited to go, especially as he was presenting a paper on the Gospel of Thomas and homosexuality. I was a bit worried about him traveling so far, since it was overseas in the UK. I guess my nursing training and experience kicked in -- and I just didn't think he looked good. But he had been anticipating the conference for a long time, so he went. When he returned from the trip, I was alarmed. He really looked bad, much worse than when he'd left. But he still wouldn't go to the doctor. I made the decision to call his son in Atlanta and his daughter in Miami, to ask them to call Charlie and urge him to go see a doctor. His son, also named Charles, was pretty rude to me. His daughter, Kelly, at least listened to my concerned plea.
And still he didn't go.
I begged him. Finally he did make an appointment and went to his primary care physician's office.
I was surprised to learn that they didn't really do any tests. Strangely, Charlie seemed to get better. Over time, he had less pain... and then none.
The fall semester was Med-Surg II. I did the clinicals on 5 West at the hospital. The first half of the semester was a general medical unit, while the last half was the cancer unit. There was a guy there named John Paul. He went by JP. He was a couple of years older than me, tall, black-haired, green-eyed, broad-shouldered. A really, really nice guy. For my first patient assignment, I was paired with him as the primary nurse, and he let me do a lot of stuff and sort of quizzed me about procedures and protocols. He liked teaching and I was eager.
All through the autumn, Charlie would mention having occasional back pain or belly pain. And he was losing weight, quite noticeably. He got full quickly, after eating much less than usual. I didn't think it was normal, but he blew it off. I got angry at him one time and challenged him about it. He didn't respond in anger.
"If it's something terrible, then I don't want to know. I saw so many people die so young in the 80's, and I felt so guilty for surviving. I want to meet my end with dignity rather than fear."
I wasn't having it. "It might not be something bad. It might be curable. You ought to find out, so you will know."
Once again, he got better and looked hale and hearty, even though he was still losing weight. I was off work on Thanksgiving Day, and made a meal as best I could for us. But he didn't eat much. I worked on Christmas Day, though. By then I was one semester away from graduating. Spring semester was critical care and specialty areas. I thought it was the most fun of all the clinicals.
Then Charlie got sick. His left leg got swollen. Just his left leg. I told him that he needed to go to the ER, because I was worried he had a blood clot. But he refused. Then, sometime in the night, he came into my room, softly gasping.
"Nate, I can't breathe," he said.
I put him on my bed and I checked his pulse. It was fast. He was laboring to breathe. So, I called 911. I went outside to meet the ambulance, and then led them back to the bedroom. They assessed Charlie, got him loaded up and took him to the ER. I drove as fast as I could to get to the ER and be with him. They didn't want me to go back at first. But I told them I was his grandson, and they let me.
"How do you feel?" I asked when I finally got to see him. He had oxygen on. I could see that his eyes looked jaundiced.
"Better. Thanks."
I sat by his side and held his hand. He was waiting for a CT scan to be read. We talked for a while, me more than him, which was strange because he usually did most of the talking. I guess he didn't want to use his oxygen. Eventually the ER doctor came in.
"So, it does look like blood clots in your lungs. We're going to need to keep you in the hospital, start you on heparin and get you on warfarin. The CT suggests the possibility of a mass on your liver. So I've asked the medical resident to come down and get you admitted, so they can do a complete work-up on that."
"Are you saying cancer?" I asked.
"It's possible," he replied.
The medical resident looked young, even to me. To Charlie, he must have looked impossibly young. And he was definitely more blunt than the ER doc had been. He thought Charlie had liver cancer. Charlie was impassive, but I cried. I didn't want to hear it. Eventually they transferred him to a room on 5 West, where I had done my clinicals. JP was his nurse! I was glad because I knew he was good and caring and empathetic. And... I knew he was gay, a member of our tribe. JP got the IV in, and started the fluids and did all the assessment procedures. I was impressed by his professionalism, even though he was only just a year out of school himself -- but had earned his BSN degree.
I stayed with Charlie, sleeping in a chair next to his bed. Most days I went to work, to school and then back to his hospital room. He got another CT. Then an MRI. Then a PET scan.
It was pancreatic cancer. It was metastatic to the liver and to the spine. Stage IV. They talked to him about surgery, about chemo, about radiation. But they held out little hope. They talked to him about hospice.
"I sure had a good time in Key West!" Charlie said to me when everybody cleared out and we were alone.
"I did too."
"I'm not afraid of dying, Nate. I've had a good run. I have a few regrets, but not really so many. Things turned out the way they should have been in the end. So I'm good with all of this. I don't want anything more done."
I told the hospital staff he wanted hospice. I asked the oncologist how long Charlie had. He hedged. When I returned to his room, Charlie and I talked. We agreed that I would continue on with school. He would live until my spring break. And then we would go to Key West again.
From that point until Spring Break, my whole life was devoted to working part-time, and going to school, and taking care of Charlie: when he threw up, when he soiled himself, whatever he needed me to do.
"My beautiful, sexy nurse!" he said over and over again.
Then he perked up and did better. And we went to Key West and sat in the sun for 4 glorious days. He felt well the whole time and it was great. He felt good enough for us to make love. It was his last time ever.
On the drive home, he made me promise something: to call my parents and let them know I was alive.
I did. I waited until it was late one evening. I dialed the number and the phone rang, and it went to voicemail.
"Um, this is Nate. Your son, Nate. I, um, well I wanted you to know that I'm alive, and I'm doing good and, um, well I guess that's what I wanted you to know. You may not be interested, but I wanted you to know that. Um, okay, well... bye."
Either they didn't care, or they didn't have caller ID. But they didn't call back.