Joel Weddington
"A Very Human Mission" is a fiction novel about an alien who accepts a dare from a member of his group to be born on Earth and help human suffering. Impulsive and overconfident, he chooses to enter a traumatic childhood and encounters ongoing adversity that threaten his mission and even his life. Struggling to overcome personal conflicts and life challenges for many years, he finally gains wisdom about himself and humanity.
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A ticket to India
An Indian driver speaking perfect English, dropped Brad off at the San Francisco International Airport. Forty hours later, another Indian driver speaking less than perfect English dropped him off near an ashram in northern India. The connecting United Airlines flights halfway around the world, and the all-night drive from Indira Ghandi International airport had him exhausted, but the driver kept him awake with stories about the holy area, including warnings about the monkeys hanging overhead in trees. Embodiments of the god Hanuman, it was forbidden to harm them even when they plundered food from unwary travelers. They had driven by the ashram where the Beatles had their magical mystery tour…
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Finding what is missing – the search for Enlightenment
A gift came after Dr. Sherman helped heal Brad’s traumatized inner child. Gone was the fear of failure that drove him out of bed every morning to work until he would drop late at night. The need to find and conquer an endless series of challenges, a need that had constantly goaded his mind and body, was gone too. It amazed him that he could sit and do nothing, and not feel guilty or worthless. Going to work and taking care of people with aches and pains became a welcomed routine, and getting STAT trauma calls nights and weekends was not missed at all. It didn’t take long for a…
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adverse childhood experience, business corruption, doctor work, human psychology, personal development
After healing the inner child, something is missing
Dr. Sherman peered across his big oak desk at Brad, and then at Hannah. A wizened old man in thick spectacles, he had seen every misfortune that could fall on a human life, and the consequences. After a thorough evaluation backed by 40 years of psychiatric practice, he had only three words. “Go to sleep,” said Dr. Sherman. His tone was gentle but firm. “Go to sleep? What the hell does that mean?” says Hannah. “I brought you this poor doctor who has been bamboozled and cheated by everybody and their damn mother, and all you can say is go to sleep?” Her sharp voice cracked like a whip, causing…
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The nurse who tried to heal a doctor
Hannah was an impetuous surgical nurse with violet eyes and thick black hair, who could pass as a 35 year-old Elizabeth Taylor. Brad had met her the previous year when she assisted him on one of his surgeries. She was so good that he always requested her as his assistant. He would never know that she always requested to work with him, too. They had gotten along so well that he had shared his misfortunes about Dr. Black ,and even his bankruptcy. “How are things at the office these days, doc?” Hannah said. She loaded a suture and handed him the instrument so he could begin closing the skin after…
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Predators in private practice
Five years at Cook County Hospital transformed Dr. Brad Rosedale into an experienced trauma surgeon who wouldn’t flinch at the sight of the worst carnage. No matter how much blood, how many broken bones, or how bad was the mangled extremity, each body part was a challenge that he could fix and usually restore to proper function. The Uzi machine gun victims, suicide jumpers, and nerve and artery repairs from sword slashes, no longer made him anxious, wondering “how the hell are we going to fix this.” Now, it was just another day or night on the job. Chicago was a glittering city of polar opposites, an incongruous melting pot…
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Doctor with a bright future
The Trauma Unit on Friday and Saturday nights was an endless procession of drunks with fresh bullet wounds, people hauled off the freeway with faces smashed in from a steering wheel or windshield, and motorcycle casualties with multiple fractures. By 2 am the place would smell like booze, blood, and vomit. Doctors barking orders and people moaning in pain were a chorus against the rhythmic sigh of sliding doors opening, and gurney wheels squeaking. The clinical rotations ignited a fire inside of Brad. These people need help. Seizing the opportunity, the 3rd year medical student would scrub into surgery every chance he got. Helping the residents by retracting the skin…
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You want to be a doctor? Hahaha
“You don’t really mean that. You don’t really want to be a doctor.” Natalie looked at him with one eye closed and blew a cloud of smoke at him. She knew he hated that. Then, she laughed. “I mean it, Mom. I made straight As my first year of college, and my undergraduate advisor suggested it. She got me thinking – what better way is there to help people and also be successful? Even help our family.” Brad ignored the foul odor of the cheap cigarettes. Talking about helping the family however, that rang hollow in his ears. But, he had to give her a little credit. She wasn’t a…
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The chess player with a broken wrist
Brad walked into gymnastics practice with a long arm plaster cast, suited up and ready to work out with two legs and one good arm. Coach Peters spotted him, and his face immediately flushed bright red. “Brad? Oh m-my g-god! What’d the doctor say?” Mr. Peters was mostly concerned about covering his own butt. He had pushed Brad to work out on the painful wrist for weeks, taping it for support so tightly that his hand would turn blue. Its only a sprain, he would say. “The doctor said I have a scaphoid fracture and I have to wear this for 6 months!” said Brad. Coach’s eyes were darting back…
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The Visitation: “To become square, square yourself”
The next eviction notice came after Brad turned 14, which was right before the Christmas holidays. Mo was between jobs, working hustles with his partner Shue. Plays he called them. They would come in all excited in the middle of the night, get drunk, and pass out. Natalie would get some cash for food, beer, cigarettes, and her Astrology magazine. But lately there hadn’t been many good plays and they were 3 months behind on the rent. The Sheriff posted notice and they had to get out. The parent’s options were living in the car, or giving the kids up to foster homes. In desperation, she called her mother Mary…
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Son, can I borrow that paper route money?
Bradley pumped the pedals hard and made the two miles home in no time. He ran into the house to share the news, almost tripping over Glen who was playing on the floor. “Watch it kid! What’s got you so worked up?” said Mo, who was watching a Marlboro commercial on TV, and smoking one too. He was in a good mood so Bradley handed out the form from Mr. O and told the story. Natalie interrupted. “No you can’t have a paper route. You’re going to get killed riding your bike around and throwing papers on Colorado Boulevard. And all the freaks will rip you off!” “Aw come on Nat,…