God's Plan??? By Merle R. Stone

As of late, (this morning, to be precise) I find myself in a state of realization which actually sort of frightens me. What I am beginning to realize is that if I were to stumble upon God, the supreme Almighty, say on the street or in some bar, I would kick him square in the balls. Then, I would question him to his face about his 'Divine Plan' as it has been called. I would hold him fast with the anger in my eyes and the malice on my lips and accuse him of being a heartless monster that preys upon the young and the helpless, simply for his own amusement. He would know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that he has pissed me off.

And what is the reason for my outrage? I have a wonderfully brilliant fifteen year old stepson who has never given his mother and me a moment's worry and is as innocent as a hatchling chick, who, at 11:40 Friday morning, the 29th of December, in the year of our Lord 2006, was stricken with a grand mal seizure which nearly claimed his life. If you have never witnessed a seizure of this type, suffice it to say that it is terrifying. When my wife and I discovered him in that state, he was completely blue in the face from lack of oxygen.

My wife was hysterical and could only bring herself to grab him up in her arms and rock him as she screamed out his name over and over.

When at last I could pry him away from her I managed to make him breathe again (I strongly urge all of you to learn CPR) while calling for an ambulance. We got him to hospital where they administered a couple of tests, questioned us about what type of drugs he had taken, then sent us all home with instructions to have him checked out at a later date. Exactly four hours after his first seizure, at 3:40 pm while resting on the sofa, his second seizure hit him. My wife had been speaking with him when he suddenly began convulsing and his breathing stopped. Once again, I was able to start his breathing, and once again the ambulance took him away.

My wife was again hysterical, thinking that she had witnessed her child's final moments.

We followed to the hospital and went through the routine again before they admitted him for more testing and an overnight observation. We still don't know what the tests show. We brought him home yesterday afternoon with a prescription for an anticonvulsive drug, and I haven't closed my eyes for more than five minutes since Friday morning. As I write this, I am keeping watch over his sleep, waiting for his next seizure to come. My wife is sleeping fitfully a few feet away on a mattress that we dragged from our bed to the living room so she could be close to him. It is presently 5:03 am, Sunday the 31st of December.

I am exhausted, nervous, and I feel so badly for my wife. And yes, I am highly pissed off at God. Nice plan, dickhead.

I am on about this whole 'plan' thing because I had some well-intentioned God-loving idiot actually say to me that had my step-son died, it would be because it was part of God's great plan. What the fuck kind of thing is that to say to a person who has nearly lost a child? How can a human being be so totally wrapped up in their own make- believe world of heavenly kingdoms and imaginary friends named God that they can be so ignorant as to how they sound? Those were not words of comfort at all. They only served as more fuel for this sudden burning hatred I have developed for this God guy.

I served in the Marines to defend the rights of people to say stupid shit like that to other people. Shouldn't that have also secured me the right to rip the head off of some insensitive dipweed who should be minding their own business to begin with? Seems fair to me. But now, all I can do is watch him sleep. Every time his breathing changes, my heart skips a beat. My wife is tossing and turning and making helpless little sounds in her sleep. I know I will cry over this eventually. It is my strength in these matters that keeps me going for now. And I can't help the feeling that God is watching. And chuckling. And looking for someone else's innocent baby to enact his plan on.

If God is real, He's one sick son of a bitch. Just look at your morning papers on any given day. Some plan, huh?

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