March 2: Pagan Ways, Rose, Defying Expectations

Meanwhile Captain Bildad sat earnestly and steadfastly eyeing Queequeg, and at last rising solemnly and fumbling in the huge pockets of his broadskirted drab coat took out a bundle of tracts, and selecting one entitled "The Latter Day Coming; or No Time to Lose," placed it in Queequeg's hands, and then grasping them and the book with both his, looked earnestly into his eyes, and said, "Son of darkness, I must do my duty by thee; I am part owner of this ship, and feel concerned for the souls of all its crew; if thou still clingest to thy Pagan ways, which I sadly fear, I beseech thee, remain not for aye a Belial bondsman. Spurn the idol Bell, and the hideous dragon; turn from the wrath to come; mind thine eye, I say; oh! goodness gracious! steer clear of the fiery pit!"

Something of the salt sea yet lingered in old Bildad's language, heterogeneously mixed with Scriptural and domestic phrases.

"Avast there, avast there, Bildad, avast now spoiling our harpooneer," Peleg. "Pious harpooneers never make good voyagers- it takes the shark out of 'em; no harpooneer is worth a straw who aint pretty sharkish. There was young Nat Swaine, once the bravest boat-header out of all Nantucket and the Vineyard; he joined the meeting, and never came to good. He got so frightened about his plaguy soul, that he shrinked and sheered away from whales, for fear of after-claps, in case he got stove and went to Davy Jones."

"Peleg! Peleg!" said Bildad, lifting his eyes and hands, "thou thyself, as I myself, hast seen many a perilous time; thou knowest, Peleg, what it is to have the fear of death; how, then, can'st thou prate in this ungodly guise. Thou beliest thine own heart, Peleg. Tell me, when this same Pequod here had her three masts overboard in that typhoon on Japan, that same voyage when thou went mate with Captain Ahab, did'st thou not think of Death and the Judgment then?"

"Hear him, hear him now," cried Peleg, marching across the cabin, and thrusting his hands far down into his pockets,- "hear him, all of ye. Think of that! When every moment we thought the ship would sink! Death and the Judgment then? What? With all three masts making such an everlasting thundering against the side; and every sea breaking over us, fore and aft. Think of Death and the Judgment then? No! no time to think about death then. Life was what Captain Ahab and I was thinking of; and how to save all hands how to rig jury-masts how to get into the nearest port; that was what I was thinking of."

Bildad said no more, but buttoning up his coat, stalked on deck, where we followed him. There he stood, very quietly overlooking some sailmakers who were mending a top-sail in the waist. Now and then he stooped to pick up a patch, or save an end of tarred twine, which otherwise might have been wasted.

Bildad does not give up on trying to save Queequeg's pagan soul.  Of course, Queequeg has no intention of abandoning his god for Bildad's.  Queequeg knows his worth, and Ishmael and Peleg accept him for everything that he is:  cannibal, pagan, tattooed, harpooner.  In fact, Peleg fears that converting Queequeg to Christianity may ruin him.  As Peleg says, "Pious harpooneers never make good voyagers--it takes the shark out of 'em."

As many of you may be aware, my sister, Rose, was taken by ambulance to the hospital yesterday morning.  She was diagnosed with double pneumonia and a severe asthma attack.  Her oxygen saturation levels were down in the low fifties.  When she got to the ER, they assessed her situation.  Within a few hours, she was sedated and on a ventilator in the ICU.

Now, for those of you who don't know Rose, let me tell you that she has a lot of shark in her, like Queequeg.  That is to say, she's pretty salty.  Rose is the second youngest in my family.  I am the baby, even though she frequently tries to steal that title from me.  Rose has Down Syndrome.  She was born in a time when doctors told parents who had Down Syndrome babies basically to institutionalize and forget about them.  That was the advice my mom and dad received.

Of course, my parents were pretty stubborn people.  They brought Rose home and loved her no differently than they loved any of their children.  My mother fought for Rose her whole life.  Fought to get her into school.  Fought teachers who underestimated her abilities.  Fought school board members who told her, "We have to take care of our kids before we take care of yours."

Rose  was more popular than I was in school.  Got invited to sporting events.  Had the entire football team as her bodyguards.  She graduated from high school two years after me.  Basically, she defied all expectations.  Think of her as Qeequeg with his harpoon.

Yesterday, in her hospital room, she looked tiny to me.  Shrunken.  Her face was pasty, and her chest moved rhythmically with the ventilator.  She was alive, and, yet, as I stood by her bed, I had this vision of her not being there.  Letting go.  Drifting away from the very sick shell of her body.  It was pretty sobering.  The doctors said she would have to be intubated for a couple of days.

Again, Rose is defying expectations.  They took her off the ventilator this morning.  She woke up, terrified and confused.  Yet, she was breathing on her own.  For a while, her doctors thought she was suffering from sepsis, as well.  The blood tests came back negative.  This afternoon, when I visited her, she was tired and disoriented.  I spoke to her,  She opened her eyes, looked at me.  I said, "It's okay, Rose.  I know you're tired.  You can sleep."  She nodded and closed her eyes.  She never said a word.

Rose is going to be alright, I think.  Tomorrow, she's going to be moved out of ICU if she continues to improve.  She still has plenty of shark left in her.

Saint Marty is thankful tonight for the health of his sister.