Is that a light at the end if the tunnel?

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come…

I know I am butchering this Shakespearian quote and changing its meaning but it fits so well with today’s blog so I ask pardon with my poetic license.

Many people have asked me if I remember anything from those 9 days, dreams, events, great white lights and long tunnels. I do actually have a few memories and today’s blog will disclose and investigate some of the “goings on” real or imagined.

I was told that they actually woke me up twice during those 9 days and actually took out the ventilator tubes to see if I could breathe on my own. I do not recall these events. I was also awake at some point with the ventilator in and wanted to communicate. The nurse held a pad of paper and gave me a marker. I wrote very crudely “Nebraska bad,” referring to a surgery I had years previously in that state and trying to let them know I had issues coming out of surgical sedation.

I also wrote “Cara will you marry me” to my then girlfriend and now fiancee. The nurse turned the paper to her. I started tapping on the paper quite insistent on an answer and being that I was to lay still with the machines all hooked up se calmed me down with an answer of “we will talk about it when your better.” Well the story made its rounds of the hospital of the guy in the ICU who proposed whilst on his “death bed.” Many hospital staff who would come into my room would start with a cheery “Congratulations” to which they would receive a quizzical look from me until my mother disclosed this story and I asked Cara to see the paper which she had stuck in her purse. I later used that same paper to propose in earnest.

When they attempted to remove the ventilator tubes the doctors wanted me to speak. I refused initially and they told Cara and Joel (my brother) that they didn’t care what I said as long as I spoke. They attempted all sorts of different topics to get this outcome. Finally when Joel stated that he had rode my Harley I voiced some very colorful adjectives. I was told I continued these verbal barages at nurses, doctors and any other medical staff. I guess I was very upset with my situation and what they were doing to me. When told of this I spent the next few days appologizing to everyone who entered my room. I did not know who I had used the very offending vocabulary on but they all replied that it was “all part of the job.” I sincearly don’t remember those outbursts but still to this day feel very sorry for them.

I recall having one very vivd dream. It was in black and white and set in the early 1940’s. It was in a first person view and I was laying in a bed of a military hospital. Different officers would come see me but I recall a very attractive woman leaning over my bed telling me I was ok. It then blurred into me in a bare metal riveted together taxi or train. I was screaming to stop and let me off. I was begging and pleading as I was in the passenger seat. I then looked to my left and it was Joel driving and he told me that it was ok, that he was driving. It calmed me down instantly. Its interesting to note that at different times throughout that week I did have times of great upset and I would attempt to remove IVs and things attached or inserted into my body. They had to restrain me and the only times I would calm down would be if my brother or Cara spoke to me. I would only listen to them and none of the staff.

I recall some things very jaggedly or very medicated. I heard the sound of the rotors of a helicopter echoing off the building. The very same helicopter that was used to save my life. I was moved to three different rooms in those 9 days to try and calm me. When I first started waking I did not know day from night. I recall the sounds of a football game in the distance from a nearby stadium and a nurse wearing her team colours. I saw bugs crawling on the walls and old rock band posters. They definitely save the good drugs for those in the ICU.

Being raised in a religious home, going to “Christian” schools and even attending Bible College to become a preacher I have been asked almost to the point of it becoming an expectation that I would or should have had a religious epiphany. I’ve been told that by living through this “God has a plan for you…” I’m still waiting for the memo outlining it. Many people prayed for me and continue to do so. Does God intercede in our lives because of prayer or is what happens “His plan,” I don’t know anymore and that is just one of my struggles with faith. I promise to delve into my religious conundrums in another blog or two.

So no great white light at the end of a tunnel. No hovering over my bed, angels or demons and no guy in a toga, sandals with long hair. No great religious awakening or epiphany.

 

Foothills Hospital

I sit here at Foothills Hospital in Calgary waiting for another medical appointment and think to myself what an appropriate place to write today’s blog. I was flown here in the early morning hours of September 29th 2011 in critical condition.

My heart had stopped functioning effectively even though I continued to have a heart beat and I was on a respirator due to my lungs being filled with fluid. I was rushed into surgery to remove the blockage and place a metal stent in its place. I was placed on an impella heart pump a, at that time, cutting edge medical device to circulate blood for me and to stave off brain damage. My blood was chilled to 30c to also protect me from lack of oxygen and nutrients for my systems. I had holes punctured in my back to drain over 2 litres of fluid from around my lungs which was choking the breath from my body. For 9 days I lay in a medically induced coma my doctors and family not knowing my fate. My brother told me later that he had come to believe that they only kept me on the machines as an experiment and that he believed I was already gone.

I awoke fully on the 10th day. I had only thought that one night had passed, I was told that it was 10 and I could not believe it. I was told some of what had occurred and was amazed at how excited everyone was to see me awake including the medical staff. I remember how tired I felt for the first time and how strange it was. I was weak, hungry and even simple tasks like moving my arms felt like a hard workout at the gym. I still had tubes and wires all over my body and that compounded the difficulty in mobility.

That day for lunch the nurse fed me my liquid lunch and I felt like a child being fed by a parent. Even eating seemed like a marathon run. That evening at my insistence they assisted me to a chair and let me eat my liquid supper on my own. The spoon felt like it weighed 20 pounds and it took every ounce of my strength to eat. As soon as the nurse left the room I ditched it and slurped my meal up with a straw.

The gravity of my situation weighed heavily on me. How could this have happened? I was healthy, ate reasonably well, didn’t drink to excess. My only vice is that I smoked and not even a pack a day. 3-5 cigarettes a day shouldn’t have done this.

The next day I started having visitors which weren’t my family. The first were Paul and Bev Meyers. They brought me sushi, with a critical look from the nurse and a reminder not to have the soy sauce, I dug in. My first real meal, it exhausted me eating it. I tried my hardest but couldn’t finish it. I actually worked out a code with the nurses so if I asked for a certain thing it meant clear my room and let me have a rest for a few hours. I felt aweful doing that to guests but I was so tired all the time.

That evening I stood on my own without assistance. I struggled to lift my 165 pound frame but I did it. I had to do it twice due to my now fiancée not getting to see it the first time. I fell asleep that night thinking these big accomplishments in my family’s eyes seemed so small for me.

Hopefully the next day would bring accomplishments that would seem more satisfying.