Visions of St Lazarus 2

Chapter 2

CONVERSATION AT THE DOOR

When Lazaro knocked at the door of Dade Rest, he was greeted by the AIDS Director, whose gaze was filled with skepticism. "What made you decide to serve People With AIDS?" he asked.

"I... I am a nurse. I believe I'm qualified," Lazaro responded, his voice steady but unsure.

"Ha! Since when did a mere nursing license become a qualification to serve people with AIDS?" The Director’s words dripped with sarcasm.

Lazaro shifted uncomfortably under the Director’s scrutiny. The tension in the air was palpable. Unable to keep his thoughts to himself, he muttered, "Why, sir, it seems you are unwelcoming to people like me."

The Director’s voice tightened, and Lazaro could hear the bitterness laced beneath his words. "So many like you have come here before," the Director said, his tone thick with pain. "With guilt in their hearts, thinking they could atone by serving us. Others come with curiosity, to fill a need for knowledge. A few have treated us like research subjects, objectifying us for their own purposes. Politicians and celebrities have used us for photo ops, to boost their popularity. How many people wear red ribbons without ever knowing anyone with AIDS? Or maybe you're one of those young men who come here to boast about their ‘caring hearts.’ Please, just leave us alone. The ones who stay here have already come to terms with our disease. We've accepted the inevitability of death. Just let us have some peace."

Lazaro’s eyes welled up with tears. His voice trembled as he spoke, "I came all the way from Tennessee to Florida just to serve you. If you won’t let me, where else can I go? Where else can I find meaning in life?"

The Director, surprised by the intensity of Lazaro’s response, poked his head further out from the doorway. Lazaro pressed on:

"In Tennessee, I isolated myself for three years, believing the world was not meant for me. I am a homosexual who never belonged. Sometimes, I felt like I should have been born in a different time, a different world. But one night, St. Augustine appeared to me in a dream and told me to come here and serve. I’ve had other visions..."

The Director eyed him suspiciously, now certain that Lazaro might be a little unhinged. The conversation stretched on, and the Director, still wary, asked, "What qualifications do you have beyond your nursing degree?"

Lazaro paused, considering the question. He gazed at the Director as if trying to make sense of why such a question had even come up. Lazaro’s conviction was firm, and the sureness in his heart was clear: when God calls you to serve, there should be no barriers.

"I came to the U.S. from Manila. What I bring with me are the years of my search," he said quietly. "As a boy, I wanted to be a priest, but every Catholic church turned me away because I’m homosexual. Yet, that rejection didn’t break me. Instead, I became a nurse, hoping one day I would fulfill my destiny to serve humankind. Right after I graduated, I joined the Missionaries of Mary. Together, we lived in a hut in a leper colony on the island of Palawan. I was proud of the work we did there—I’d never felt so dedicated in my life. But, from the start, I had doubts about the way they treated the lepers. They were classified. Those who were newly diagnosed and less infected were put in one cottage, 'A.' Those on their way to healing were assigned to 'B.' Those who worsened were moved to 'C.' And finally, there was 'D'—the place for the forgotten, the hopeless. Those who had been healed were sent back to 'D' when the stigma of leprosy proved too strong for society to accept them. They became returnees, forever carrying the label of 'leper.' They were the ones I served. Oh, Sir, if you only saw them—at Christmas, when no one cared enough to send them a card, many of them... they took their own lives. Each Christmas, I would be surrounded by corpses lying on tables in the morgue. I’d help the nuns wash the bodies and seal their coffins. And then, I would ship them out, wondering, what kind of world do I live in?"

Lazaro's voice cracked as he continued, the pain of those memories washing over him. "I used my salary to buy them drinks, radios, anything to lift their spirits. But one night, after we all got drunk together during the Rosary, the nuns became angry, and I was kicked out of the Missionaries' residence. I stayed in Manila for a while before I came to America."

Lazaro’s eyes met the Director’s, his gaze steady. "I’ve worked here as a nurse for three years. But at night, I lie awake, wondering: Is this all I’m meant to be? A lonely homosexual, going in and out of this apartment, without friends, with nothing meaningful to show for it? It was better in the leper colony. There, I served with my heart, despite my homosexuality. Here, I serve for money. I know I’m just an ordinary person destined to do ordinary things, but when I look at the number of people dying from AIDS, the homosexual community caught up in it, it’s hard for me to believe that this is ordinary. How can this be ordinary in these extraordinary times? I came here to continue the work I started in the leprosy colony—this time, with AIDS."

The Director raised an eyebrow. "What if we reject you?"

"I’ll wipe the dust off my feet and never come back," Lazaro said, his voice firm. "But if serving People with AIDS is meant for me, I’ll go on. I’ll find where I’m needed."

The Director narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Do you have a job?"

"Yes, I work at Universal Nursing Home, taking care of the elderly."

"There! You have a reason to serve, isn’t that enough?"

"But it’s not the same!" Lazaro countered. "Caring for people who pay is one thing. But to care for people who have no financial support, no moral backing from society, that is something different entirely. People pay taxes to take care of the elderly. But with AIDS, there is no institutional support, no moral or financial backing. Serving those who suffer from AIDS is the true spirit of love and servitude. That is what I want to do."

The Director sighed, visibly frustrated. "How can you serve us when your time is already taken up with your duties at the nursing home?"

"I plan to come here every night, and on weekends," Lazaro replied without hesitation.

"Good heavens, you would not stop, would you?" The Director shook his head. "What about your social life? What about your love life?"

Lazaro smiled faintly. "I fell in love once, but my lover died. That one love affair was enough for me. If you’re suggesting I spend my nights at gay bars looking for fleeting pleasures, that is not for me."

The Director paused, as if weighing his words. "Lazaro… that’s your name, right? Listen to me. Give yourself some time to think about this. You may be acting on an impulse. This desire to serve us… it might pass."

Lazaro shook his head. "I’m not acting on impulse. I’m following a calling. I’ve seen visions."

The Director sighed heavily, a deep weariness settling in his chest. "Fine. We’ll do it this way. Write a paper for us. Put all your knowledge and intentions in writing. If we find it sincere and beneficial, we’ll let you in."

Lazaro’s face softened. "I’m not doing this for you, or anyone else. I’m doing it for myself. I’m doing this to fill a need to serve. If you allow me, I would be the happiest man on earth."

---

SAN LAZARO'S KAFKAESQUE PAPER

I woke up one day in a different form. I was a Lymphocyte. I tried to move in my bed, but instead of the usual sensation, I was like gelatin, sliding slowly. My ameboid body swam through an ocean of red, and I wondered how I had become this way.

**My Background**

I was as ancient as the land known as the Republic of Reynaldo, where I lived. I was born from its canal system, the Bone Marrow, a place without a soul, a name, or an identity. I swam in the ocean of red when the voice of Destiny called me. It told me, "I am making you a soldier. Your role is to defend Reynaldo from its enemies."

An unknown force swept me to a camp in the twin cities known as Kidney. The camp, Fort Thymus Gland, was where new recruits like me trained in military strategy, weaponry, and discipline. After completing my training, I was sent to another camp, close to the city of Throat, named Fort Lymph Node. Destiny’s voice again echoed in my mind: "Wars will always come to Reynaldo. Invaders will appear on the horizon, but do not fear, your strength will defeat them."

And so I waited. A soldier, ready for battle.
2025-04-03 08:36:34
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