In order to pay his medical school tuition, Thomas Merrick was working two jobs over the summer.
By day, he worked at LeClaire’s Market—a butcher shop. He wore a stiff white coat splattered with crimson and trimmed fat.
By night, he transformed. Down at St. Ambrose Hospital, he traded cleavers for stretchers. As an orderly on the graveyard shift, his white coat now clean and crisp, worn over hospital scrubs.
One night, long past midnight, Thomas was called to prepare a patient for surgery. Room 216. Elderly woman. Appendectomy.
He arrived with his usual calm, smiled softly, gently eased the gurney beside her bed, and began to help the nurses ready her for the trip down to the OR.
She was pale. Small. Her eyes fluttered open, cloudy but alert. As Thomas leaned in to adjust the straps, the room froze. Her eyes locked onto him—wide, horrified. Her lips trembled.
Then, as if struck by lightning, she bolted upright and screamed with the terror of a woman who believed her last hour had come:
“God save me! It’s the butcher!”
A middle-aged woman has a heart attack and is taken to the hospital.
While on the operating table, she has a near-death experience. During that experience, she sees God and asks if this is it. God says NO and explains that she has another 30-40 years to live.
Upon her recovery she decides to just stay in the hospital and have a face lift, liposuction, breast augmentation, tummy tuck – you name it, she had it. She even has someone come in and change her hair color. She figures since she’s got another 30 or 40 years she might as well make the most of it.
She walks out of the hospital after the last operation when she is k.i.lled by an ambulance speeding up to the hospital.
She arrives in front of God and asks, “I thought you said I had another 30-40 years?”
“Oh, ” Said God. “I didn’t recognize you.”
A little girl is sitting on her grandpa’s lap and studying the wrinkles on his old face.
She gets up the nerve to rub her fingers over the wrinkles.
Then she touches her own face and looks more puzzled.
Finally the little girl asks, “Grandpa, did God make you?”
“He sure did honey, a long time ago,” replies her grandpa.
“Well, did God make me?” asks the little girl.
“Yes, He did, and that wasn’t too long ago,” answers her grandpa.
“Boy,” says the little girl, “He’s sure doing a lot better job these days isn’t He?”
