Here's a good one. I know you guys are right on the edge of your seat. I'm up at UC yesterday to drive this patient who is still taking chemo so I am waiting at the Infusion Center. I start talking to this lady and she says, "I understand you are a Priest." Before I could say anything, she said, "Father Jerry, I have met a great priest here and am going to mass everyday." I am looking for an opening to tell her that I'm not a priest. She keeps talking. She is from San Diego but came here at the rec of her doctor as he thought this was best Treatment Center in the country. She made her Mom a special rosary out of pearls. She is going to make the Priest one but he believes all rosaries should be black. It is her birthday. She is sixty. Very attractive but emotionally has the look of all breast cancer victims: "a deer caught in the headlights."
I finally decide that I have to confess. I tell her that I am not a Priest but a Presbyterian and am sorry we went on for so long but she was telling good stories. We laughed. She wanted to know if she could still call me "Father Jerry." Of course. I launched into a war story: "in Vietnam, guys would come to me all the time and want me to hear their confession. I would say to them that I am not a Priest. It would be like they didn't hear me, made no difference. I can't tell you the numbers of times I heard confession.
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