August 1, 2006

“Jeremiah the Bullfrog”

“Bud” and I usually talked in the ward community dayroom.  It’s an open, light-filled space where plants thrive, puzzles lay waiting to become pictures, shelves are stocked with books and National Geographic magazines, and an old fashioned popcorn machine sits in the corner waiting for its cameo appearance on ‘Sunday Family Day.’  Bud was exercising his inner artist and colored pencils were strewn across the table in creative chaos (I have a personalized card on my fridge).

Bud is a Vietnam vet, who was admitted to the psychiatric ward for alcohol abuse and frequent manic episodes associated with bipolar disorder.  Bud has sparkly grey eyes that pop against the backdrop of a rosy-hued face and sparsely graying hair.  Bud is 5’7” of character, who whistles his words through his teeth and bares a little belly that peeks out of his red patient issue pajama top.  After our initial visit, I said, “Bud, call me Cody, like Wild Bill.”  He was amused.

“Cody,” Bud started, “A vet gave me a verse and I don’t remember where it is in the Bible.  Ezel?  No, that doesn’t sound right.  Hama, hahra?” “Bud, I interject.  Do you remember how the verse begins?”  “Well,” Bud starts, it kind of goes like this, “For I have plans for you…to give you hope and a future.”  [Note: Persons with mental illness often have a remarkable memory for details/concepts (sometimes obsessive). Can’t that be said of “normal” functioning persons?]  I digress. 

“Well, Bud, that verse is found in the book of Jeremiah,” I chirp.  Bud’s facial expression turned from jovial to serious as he took a long, deep breath, looked at me with steely determination, and belted, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog.  He was a good friend of mine…”  I chimed in, “Joy to the world, all you boys and girls.  Joy to the people in the big blue sea, joy to you and me.”  Interestingly, the name bullfrog is derived from the bull-line bellowing sound that chorusing communities of bullfrogs emit.  Talk about group therapy! The ward came alive as veterans, nurses and doctors laughed and smiled at one another.  

From that day forward, Bud would clap his hands, tilt his hat to one side, tap his socked foot on the linoleum floor, and sing “Jeremiah was a Bullfrog.”  Did he connect  a bullfrog named Jeremiah to the God of joy?  Well, I’m inclined to believe that the same Jesus, who used mud to heal the blind man and taught in parables, is the same God who used a song by Three Dog Night to communicate joy to a veteran with bipolar disorder.  Just as the paralytic went home praising God and the widow rejoiced that Jesus brought her only son back to life, so did Bud experience the God of joy thru a song and God’s ambassador; a chaplain named “Wild Bill Cody.”