The Atheist and the Parrotfish
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
his resentment late like a dragon and slumber, a smoldering, glowing thing un extinguished by the wash of time. And now the drone oven ancient chant in harmony with the rhythmic flash oven overhead Heart monitor had sparked a new. Yet if the heavyset, white haired, wall eyed man hunched over the bed rail in front of him had not been a Catholic chaplain Colin Brody might not have loathed him so might not have seized at his simpering piety. His hand holding, prayer mongering intrusion into the intensive care unit. Thomas Lawson Hovering, bedside, reciting departure. No stir with the parents of a young Latino Cullen had saved the night before. Not with prayer, mind you, but with reason and science and a crash dialysis treatment administered by an unflappable gem of a nurse. He brushed by Lawson and stood at the foot of the bed. A distinctive odor of blood and excrement came from the next room over, where an alcoholic bled into his bell from its offer. Jill veins make plump and using by cirrhosis the weathered misty's oh faces of the boys. Diminutive parents lit up at the site of the medico who had rescued their son, Buenos Dias doctor. Their hands slipped from Lawson's pink finger to grasp. They eased away from him. All units, Dia's Colin responded. He turned to his patient course. Black hair plastered the boys for it, for grind. And, like almost the CNN time ago, Better way better. I can move again. He kicked a leg in the air as proof. Good going thought the blood washing of the previous night's dialysis session had completely corrected the life threatening, muscle paralyzing excess of potassium caused by an unrecognized kidney failure. Golan nodded his approval. Nice, almost ready for soccer. Miguel gave him a pained look and opened his mouth to speak, But Colon raised a hand and interrupted him. I know, I know. Football, Miguel grinned at his parents. Lawson laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and looked at Colon. He seems to have responded to your therapy. His parents will be very grateful. Colin glared at him. Lawson's ex Simitis cheeks flushed. Just doing my job, Cohen said. The same way I always do. Lawson withdrew his hand from the boy's shoulder and shuffled away from the bed. An incident barely a month ago had strained their relationship a patient's husband had complained to the hospital CEO that Colin refused to acknowledge God's hand and healing his stricken wife. The letter made no mention of his difficult diagnosis that salvage the woman's kidneys and kept her off dialysis. The CEO turned the matter over to the Quality Assurance Committee, which delegated AH hospital chaplain Lawson to counsel him about spiritual sensitivity. Collins Hostile response Telling Lawson to mind his own business and leave the care of ill patients to doctors and nurses had prompted Lawson toe Ask if a priest molested him when he was young. Contest at the memory of the accusation, as if being made a corn holed cata might by a pedophile priest was the only possible reason an ex altar boy could have for being hostile to the Catholic Church. Oh, it was worse than that, Colin told him. He would rather have been molested. Even that would have been better than living with the nightmare that haunted him. Still, a small boy drifting face down as alabaster body immersed in a timeless sea of blue, a nim ege born of enact that could never be undone. A disgraceful night that could never be atoned for no matter how many patients he helped. No, he wasn't hostile to religion because a man of God molested him. He was hostile because there was no God, no loving and omnipotent God would ever have permitted such a thing. Vaya con Dios, Lawson said to Miguel's parents before leaving that his pronunciation and accent were laughable. Compared to Coghlan's fluent Castilian was cold solace. Lawson had given them the one sucker Cullen was incapable of giving. Cohen saw his last impatient by eight and headed to the doctors lounge off I see you for more coffee. He paused before going in and rubbed his gritty, sleep starved eyes with the heels of his hands that could have belonged to a pipefitter, subduing metal tubes for a living or a chiropractor needing and twisting spines all day.