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Jesus and Carlos Santana |
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It seemed like every ward had a patient that thought he or she was Jesus Christ. Sometimes a ward of ninety or more people might have two or three of them. Gretchen Wilhelm was a woman on my ward that swore she was Jesus. Her story was simple; she was sent back to earth by God once again to save his people and once again the flock has rejected her. She did not know much about the bible but she did know God, and she said God was angry, especially when we would not give his one and only Jesus a cigarette. Over on the Jefferson ward there was a little guy that aggressively insisted that he was the real Carlos Santana. Carlos Santana was a famous Hispanic singer and exceptional electric guitar player. Our Carlos Santana was really Jesus Martinez and he was a guest of ours because he was violent and delusional. He had made great progress since he became a patient at the hospital, but we could not get him to accept his real identity. I worked on the Jefferson ward several times and I never really noticed him until one day at lunch. We were serving the patients some hamburgers and pizza in the cafeteria one afternoon. We always had the radio playing while we served the lunch crowd. I was dishing out some fries when a Carlos Santana song started to play. Jesus Martinez jumped out of his seat and started screaming, “That’s my song! Someone has stolen my fame! Someone has stolen my name!” He began pacing franticly while throwing his arms around wildly and cursing. His caseworker was standing next to me cutting pizza. Elvin walked calmly back to the kitchen and brought out a straw broom. He walked out to the eating area and came right up to Jesus and he handed him the broom. Jesus took the broom with a quizzical look and they both just stood there for a moment. Then Jesus understood. He started playing the broom as if it was a fine electric guitar. I have never seen anyone play Evil Ways, or any other song for that matter, with such devout passion. His hands went up and down the imaginary frets almost flawlessly. You should have seen how finely he picked at the individual straws of the broom like they were the delicate strings of the guitar. And he did all that without a guitar strap or a pick. There have been times when I have talked to the patients who said they were Jesus Christ where sometimes there was a little glimmer of thought in my mind that whispered, “What if this really is Jesus Christ?” I almost thought Jesus Martinez was Carlos Santana. Even if he wasn’t Carlos Santana, he really may have been a master guitar player before he began his tour with our hospital. We watched as he played the final notes and when the song was over, he turned back to get a drink before he started his next song. Elvin wanted the broom back, but Jesus wanted to play Black Magic Woman. We were saved by the radio when a Rita Coolidge song started to play. Jesus relinquished his “guitar” and we all went back to our business. Jesus ranted the rest of the afternoon. I asked Elvin, “Can he really play the guitar?” Elvin said he did not know, but maybe one day he will bring one in and we will all find out. I was not there the day that Elvin brought in a fine acoustic guitar, but I heard all about it. Everyone was in the day room when he brought it out of the nurse’s station. This guitar belonged to Elvin’s brother and he borrowed it while his brother was on vacation in Florida. All the caseworkers stood around and watched as Jesus was handed the guitar. He took it like he was being handed a newborn baby. Jesus sweetly kissed the guitar and pulled the strap over his neck. Jesus started to play. He played like shit. It was obvious that he had never learned a single note on the guitar. Jesus was in the middle of his dreadful version of Oye Como Va when he yanked the guitar off his neck and smashed it to pieces all over the day room floor. He turned his back to the crowd and the stunned promoter Elvin. As Jesus walked away he yelled, “I don’t play acoustic.” Elvin had to buy his brother a new guitar. Since that incident Jesus made great progress in accepting his real identity. Although he was not completely sane, he dropped the delusion that he was Carlos Santana and he converted to merely having a strong yearning to be him. I saw him one last time in the campus cafeteria. He was arguing very loudly with the Jesus from my ward, Gretchen Wilhelm, over who was the real Jesus. I took my entire problem solving skills to the table when I walked up to them and said, “Let me clear up this little misunderstanding. Jesus Christ our Savior, meet Jesus Martinez our Santana.” Problem solved. |
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