One particular question has haunted mankind ever since there was a mankind to haunt is, “what happens when you die’?
Some say, “nothing”. Some have experienced what is called “a near death experience”. Frankly, I’ve been border-line dead and can assure you that “nothing” doesn’t fit at all.
So, which is it? What do you believe? Before you decide, know this, from this experience, I believe that your path to death may be vastly different from what I experienced. But, if you stay, I sincerely believe you will see my path.
It’s amazing. I’d not given thought to all this in quite a while, and never in such detail. It was quite amazing how strong the emotions were. The clarity of my memories was disconcerting.
I will not bore you with details of how my situation seemed to manifest itself. The bottom line is that I was, by all accounts, very, very, close to death. At one point, I was so heavily sedated that trips into a drug-induced sleep always brought a truly anxious fear.
At first, I believed the nightmares to be just that, something that waking up could always cure. Then, it changed. I still had the nightmares, but waking up was increasingly difficult, The nightmares that so terrified me before, became a reality sown from my past sins.
It was somewhat slowly, I think, that the hallucinations began. I had never experienced anything like this. These weren’t exactly nightmares in the truest sense. These were different. It may be the closest I’ll ever come to another, more horrifying plane of existence.
It was terrifying. It was as if those around me would do you harm while I lay encompassed in a dark, defenseless, web of fear. I truly felt as if I was completely suspended, almost floating for all to see. There seemed to be a low-frequency, subsonic, almost elephant like rumble most of the time. A slow, peaceful vibration if you will.
At first, I was completely aware of my situation and what and who each Doctor was. Evidently as my situation worsened so did my grasp on reality. I no longer recognized my visitors at all.
Paranoia soon crept into my dreams. I felt imprisoned by something unseen and indefinable. I was convinced that all medications were given simply to render me defenseless. I feared for the life of everyone I love. At one point I’m told I woke up screaming for my wife, insisting she was in danger.
I could do nothing, they kept me there, floating in a sea of darkness. It seemed that time was standing still or maybe non-existent at all.
There are no periods of true sleep, at least I have no memory of it. There are instead, cloudy images of a just out of reach reality. A nurse, a doctor, a visitor, they are all the same, just voices in the abyss. All, but one. Her name is Celeste, my wife, the love of my life and my savior throughout this long painful ordeal.
My heart attack was so severe that I was taken to a place in the hospital that has more letters in it’s name than a first grade teachers’ blackboard. But the four letters I remember most in that reality spelled “Ally.”
Celeste was given the option of which nurses would be attending me. She picked Ally. She and her husband Lynn are a different good. They are old school good. They are, what you want your child to be, good.
As they prepared me for surgery, I was aware of a procession of very attractive, very blond nurses, each laying claim to a part of my body that would bleed best. I honestly cannot give you their names, all I can tell you is that they were wonderful. I truly wish I could remember more, but only fleeting images of the care they gave me would reveal itself. Suffice it to say that they all played a part in my survival.
I do remember being whisked into the large private room and the flurry of activity within as I was prepped for surgery. I believe this is where I met Lynn. I don’t remember much about Lynn as I’d just been given one those “Count backwards from 10 shots”, but somewhere between 10 and 7 I do distinctly remember liking him.
Some few moments before surgery, my wife introduced me to this very tall, very dark-eyed, very beautiful lady all dressed in white. She would be my nurse, she, is “Ally.” When our hands touched, it was, OK. It was all OK. Believe me, I’ve thought about this often and it always comes down to one single thing, I believed she is real deal good, and knows how to use it. Somehow, I knew this immediately.
I remember that as I was being taken to surgery Ally asked, “what do you want me to call you Mr. Robnett”. The answer was from my childhood and given by my aunt Verna who had dubbed me “precious”. I answered, “Precious.” That is the last thing I remembered.
It was after this surgery that things seemed to head south. I do remember a “pain button” on the bed. Yes, I distinctly remember that and the blisters my thumb suffered over it. Yes, I gave it a workout.
You see there were three separate surgeries involved, each with its own particular aches, pains, and associated meds. Some of which didn’t seem to play well with others.
At first, the pain of being opened up three times in less than 72 hours was excruciating, but thank God, as the pain increased, so too did the meds.
It’s at this point that some of what I say is questionable. But I’ll share with you what I know, or at least think I know.
Sometime during or immediately following after my heart surgery, parts of my body began to slowly shut down. With the additional medicines, the aforementioned hallucinations became more the rule than the exception. Sometimes the differences between the two were very, very subtle and completely indistinguishable.
Believe me it was terrifying in the extreme. It was my reality. It was real. I was there, and it was happening.
I first thought the Doctor to be a drug smuggler who flew drugs into America in his private plane. My room had an observation window, which I was convinced they used to spy on me. Try as I may, I could find no escape. No hope.
There was an eight-foot tall Mexican Gentleman hiding behind my bureau. He never took his eyes off me. I was petrified, and worse I was convinced that if I took my eyes off him, he would kill me. I was amazed no one else could see him. He was so big. This, was my reality.
During one of my son’s visits, I noticed as we talked, that some type of grid was forming in front of me. A grid that spanned the whole room and was suspended in mid air right before my eyes. The grid was composed of hundreds of small squares. Each was defined by a red line on two sides and a green on two sides forming a square. In fact there were hundred of them.They were almost cartoon cute actually.
Somewhat curious that my son had not even mentioned this grid, I simply asked him , “son, do you not see this?” When he said, “see what dad?” I simply placed my index finger into one of the lines and I watched in wonder as it “splashed”, as if I’d stuck my hand in front of a squirt gun. As I met my sons’ gaze, I knew, I was all alone.
At some point, I believe a combination of drugs and pure exhaustion laid me down. I believe this was the beginning of a journey I will never, ever, forget.
As best I can remember, it was a gradual occurrence. I think it began as something akin to staring at the same object for too long. Much as a hypnotist would ask of you I believe. Then my peripheral vision slowly became the boundary of my existence. Knowledge of all things beyond simply slipped away into a chasm of my life’s experiences, both good and bad.
This went on for days, my only respite, was an occasional consciousness that brought the loving face of my wife Celeste, or the smiles of my sons, or the occasional cool touch of Ally’s hand with the calm whisper “I’m here Precious” from her voice. Everything else was of no consequence. That was my life.
Then, it stopped. I was somewhere else. It was as if I’d awakened somewhere strange and silent. Eerily silent. A silence of anticipation, yet something of importance. Still, just cold, dark silence. No pain, no fear, just an abiding sense of well-being consumed me.
Slowly but surely I became paranoid. No longer was I aware of nurses scurrying in and out or the Doctor’s visits that I so hated anyway. Besides my wife had my back, every minute, of every day. And she, is formative. Somehow, throughout my drug-induced coma, I never lost sight of this.
I had found something else, something cerebral. Imagine if you will, that you have the only seat in a huge Planetarium. It is beyond any darkness you’ve ever known. You know of no future, and are aware of no past. You are simply the center of this, this universe thing.
Then you feel something touch you, almost like a whisper of air, not something alarming, yet something. Was I not alone? No, there is something, a feeling, more like a presence maybe. There are no words nothing is said, just awareness.
Then, it began. First, seemingly random thoughts of my youth. More and more however, my thoughts became my memories. They were memories of each and every bad thing I had ever done. Believe me, the list was substantial and it left no stone UN-turned.
It was as if I was entombed in a prison of past sins, as each was presented to me over and over again at incomprehensible speed, yet with the clarity of a still life.
Then, something changed, I became much more aware. I do know that as these memories played in my mind, the way I perceived them changed. I became more emotional, and more regretful, truly regretful. They brought me intense guilt and sorrow for those I’d harmed.
It seems, my conscience was brought to bear.
As you can see, I was given the unique ability to see all the pain I’d cause in the vain pursuit of not to be found happiness.
Images of the sinful acts I’d spent a lifetime committing were laid bare. There was no choice. Over and over, and over again, the same sins played to my weakening heart. It was the single most frightening event of my life.
The realization that I was absolutely beyond salvation, was terrifying. The fear was debilitating. Though completely and totally paralyzed, visions of past sins continued to torment me at impossible speeds.
Then, it stopped. All of it…stopped. I am still the center of this small universe, which is now the most peaceful place I’ve ever been. But, I feel as though I’m being watched. It’s almost as if the colossal planetarium I sat within, was the presence that sought me. But no, it was much bigger I think. Somehow, I knew it wanted me to know it was watching me.
Guilt consumed me.
I sat deep within its darkness with only the occasional blinking of a far away star and my immense guilt for company. I knew as I lay there were no words, there need be none, my salvation was doomed and I’d not ask for any other.
But I did ask consideration.This memory is the most vivid of all. We talked. More accurately, I talked. I spoke of my mother who is in her eighties and the fact that a nursing home would break her heart, and of my wife, who needs my love and support deeply.
I simply said, “I need a little help here. It’s important that these people be o.k. I just can’t up and leave them. Somebody has to take care of them, protect them. These are some of the good ones Lord. Tell me, what should I do?” I have no idea who I thought I was talking to, or asking help from, and I’d not dare presume to say who answered, but someone did.
Something happened I don’t know what. Physically it was similar to the last few moments before sleep overtakes you, a sinking feeling, almost as though you are weightless.
When I awoke all my past transgressions seemed to be a whole lot less important. It was almost as if they were maybe not quite forgiven, but just put away for a while.
I think that is when I woke up to see my beautiful, smiling wife.
I honestly don’t know how close I was to death but when you’re given less than a 10% chance of having breakfast, well, believe me, it’s as close as you wanna be.
I am not what you’d call a Religious man. I’m not even a spiritualist. I’ve always been the guy that thinks there may be something out there but as of yet, I haven’t seen it.
Well, there IS something out there. And now, I have seen it.
I still don’t know what or who it was, but the word God comes to mind.