The Big Fat Guy

Kenny is surprisingly lucid for a guy under the influence. He’s in his late 50s, and a Viet Nam vet, according to him. I guess that’s true, though he must have been extremely young at the time he served since we officially began pulling out of that mess just about the time he gained his legal right to vote. He has moments of extreme clarity in his speech – for example, his understanding of God and retribution surpasses that of many people with whom I studied at seminary. That makes it all the more sad when he reverts to form as a guy drying out from a severe overdose of hallucinogens. At that point, he sounds frightened and somewhat incoherent, repetitious and superstitious, and above all lonely. To make matters worse, the hospital has been unable to locate any family.

According to Kenny, his brother died three days ago in a motorcycle accident. He cried real tears when he spoke of losing his brother, and told me how the big fat guy in the corner was the monster who did it. Without inflection, he told me that if he got a chance, he would kill that big fat guy and even pointed to a particular spot as if expecting me to see the same thing he did. What I saw was a machine that was not hooked up to anything, and the bathroom set up solely for the patient’s use. It’s a struggle at times to engage with people who clearly aren’t on the same plane I’m traveling, but after a year as a chaplain I’m learning to stay and face the unknown rather than retreat from it out of fear, so I acted as if I knew exactly what he was talking about and nodded neutrally.

Kenny understands the devil well, too – at least he understands what the concepts of temptation and evil mean to the human psyche, and how trust in God helps when one is faced with these things. As if sharing a secret, he told me conspiratorially that when the devil comes at you with all sorts of promises, you need to look toward God. ‘God knows these things happen to us,’ he whispered. Then he stopped abruptly and advised me where to put the needle and I explained that I am not a nurse, but a chaplain. At this point he asked my name (which I’d mentioned when I first walked into his room, beckoned by him from the hall). When I told him, he said, ‘you look just like my mother.’ A little uncomfortable with this, I said jokingly, “when she was younger, I hope!” but he didn’t even crack a smile when he affirmed that he did indeed mean when she was younger. He explained that she had been a nurse’s aide and I told him that that’s a good helping profession and was sure that she had helped many people. When he mentioned the big fat guy again, it was with remorse as he talked about the bad feelings and how he doesn’t want to give in to them. He knew it was wrong to want to kill the big fat guy, so he tried to listen to what God told him to do.

It’s heartbreaking to hear somebody who is so clear minded and at the same time so muddled mentally. Kenny seems to have an understanding on some level of the dangers inherent in drugs. He repeatedly complained about the staff’s attempts to give him morphine, explaining that because he was in Viet Nam he knows that morphine hardens the veins. Though I did not say so aloud, internally I wondered about the metaphors present in this situation. Did the drugs he’d been in the habit of taking harden his veins, deaden him to the pain he’d already experienced and continued to feel? Did the fact that he retreated from reality shame him? Who or what is the big fat guy who bothers Kenny so? Why does he want to kill the big fat guy, yet a few minutes later express remorse over the idea? Do we all have those thoughts?

When I reflected on this, what came to mind – absurd as it might sound – was the climax of the classic film “Ghostbusters”, in which a giant version of the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man is sent by an evil god to destroy New York City. The evil god tells the ghost busters that the city will be destroyed by the vehicle of their choosing, based on the first thought that comes to mind, so they advise each other not to think of anything. Of course, Dan Aykroyd’s character immediately thinks of the one thing he thought could never hurt him – in essence, a big fat guy. In the movie, the ghost busters stand their ground and do battle, and eventually vanquish the big fat guy, though not without massive globs of melted, burned marshmallow falling all over Manhattan. It made me realize that it’s what I am beginning to do with my big fat guy, which for me means my biggest fears in this chaplaincy. Instead of running away, or doing something to harden my veins or deaden the feelings, I face them. At times I feel those metaphorical gobs of marshmallow splattering against me, but talking with Kenny made me realize that even though we all want to annihilate those big fat guys that cause us so much pain, sometimes just the fact that we can stand up to them is enough.