My
death experience was amazing and very unexpected. I’d read books where people who died talked
about going through light tunnels and found angels, Sunday School style streets
of gold, etc. Mine was different.
In
2016, I had an episode of ascities and edema due to cirrhosis. Both my family
physician and gastro were preparing to go on their month vacation (Canada’s
socialized medicine perk). I would call one and told to go to the other; I went
back and forth. I was given all sorts of prescriptions for tests, but didn’t
get to see either doctor. Because the waiting line at the hospital to get blood
tests can include a several hour wait (another socialized medicine perk); I got
up early in the morning and was there at 7am so hopefully would be home soon.
As I started the walk from the parking lot to the main entrance, I could not
gasp enough air to walk that far. I went to the Emergency Room to sit down and get
a breath before I walked all the way to the laboratory. The triage nurse took
one look at me and refused to let me go without being seen. The ER was still
quiet, so I got to see the ER doctor within 10 minutes (often there is an 8
hour wait to see the doctor). After 20
years of socialized medicine and decades of capitalistic medicine – there are
pros and cons for both.
He
had the lab phlebotomist come to my cubicle to get my blood; had me put in a
wheel chair and pushed to X-ray for a chest X-ray and treated me like I was a
queen. He had copies of the tests sent to him since he would be working at 10pm
the next night and would check the results and call me. He did! He said to have
somebody drive me and to bring a suitcase because I’d probably be
admitted. A friend drove me – fast – she
even drove up the off ramp to get onto Veteran’s Highway quicker.
We
arrive at the hospital and she drops me off at the ER door so I didn’t have to
walk far. The triage nurse knew I was expected, had a wheelchair for me and I
went first in line past all of those who had been waiting hours. Doc showed me
the X-rays, explained ascities, explained my right lung had no air sounds and
was full of fluid. He started a glucose IV drip. The internist arrived about an
hour later to admit me. The only problem was I had no pain; but he was
determined I did. When I refused his narcotic pills, he had pain meds injected
through the IV. They don’t help me sleep comfortably, they make me hyper.
The
first on the agenda was to reduce the ascites, so I was taking lots of
diuretics and was grateful the bathroom was about 4 steps from my hospital bed.
He approved of my vegan lifestyle. My first breakfast was fried eggs, boxed
juice, milk and cold cereal with soggy-buttered toast. I didn’t feel like
eating, but none of those were vegan or health-building and turned my stomach.
The third meal I refused brought the dietitian to my rescue; she was appalled I
was a vegan not a lacto-oovo-vegan and gave a lecture on good dietetics (I
prefer nutritionists who usually embrace vegan or vegetarian lifestyles). She
thought since she’d removed the sausage and bacon that it was vegan. Live and
learn. By the end of the week, the food staff grasped what vegan was and I made
sure to compliment the lady who delivered the food.
I
was admitted on a Friday night. By Wednesday, I’d lost 30 pounds of water weight
and the internist was ready to start transfusions so my platelets would be high
enough I could have my lung tapped to remove the fluid. The floor nurse brought
in blood, showed me the three places where people had typed and cross-matched
it and started the IV. If I’m at the teaching hospital, they give two bags of
platelets; however, a regional hospital does not have access to platelets, so
they use plasma. The first bag wasn’t so
bad, except I got very cold. The second bag I started not only being cold but
felt drunk. I was out – top half of my body hanging over the bed rail and the
other half laying down on the mattress.
It just happened a nurse walked by and saw me. She started removing the
IV and flushing it with water. The plasma was golden colored; so my first
groggy, drunken-feeling comment was, “Was that Jim Beam or blood?” Oh, my, did that offend her and she went off
on me that she didn’t make a mistake. I was trying to be the class clown and
add a little humor. It didn’t work. She continued to take my vitals. When I
felt safe to ask another question, I asked her how low my blood pressure went.
She said, “I won’t tell you, but currently it is 50/30.” I’ve wondered how low it went.
During
the time I was out; I call my death experience. My MD said it wasn’t because they
didn’t need paddles to start my heart. But it was still a very spiritual
experience for me. Several months later, my boss had a similar experience only
she needed paddles. When comparing notes, they seem consistent only she got CPR
and heart paddles and I got IV fluid.
I
felt lighter than air and although I wasn’t floating near the ceiling, I was
floating in warm, unconditional love at a here-before unknown place. I have
never felt so much acceptance, so much love, so alive, so cherished, so
peaceful and joyful or safe. I knew there were millions of other people there
with me although I had not yet opened my eyes to see them. We were all separate
entities; yet we were all a unity of loving acceptance. I could feel Jesus
there and loved ones who had gone before. I knew it with such certainty I did
not open my eyes to see them. It wasn’t a physical, emotional, intellectual
knowing – it was a knowing that permeated my whole being. Heinlein fans may use
the word gork as that is the only way I can even start to explain it. Sometimes
I recall a starry sky above me, but I do not know if that describes it or if it
is a true recollection or superimposed over the event. With eyes closed, I don’t
know how I could see stars; but the metaphysical does not have to follow the
rules of the physical universe.
In
Acts 17:28, the Bible says, “In Him [Jesus] I live and move and have my being.”
In Colossians 1:27, the Bible says, “Christ
in me, the hope of glory.” Although I knew I was in Him and He was in me and we
were both separate yet unified, I can not adequately put that into words any
more then I could write about how it feels to be in love. I now understand how
the closer a Bible writer came to perceiving God, the more similes and metaphors
were used and less precise descriptions could be used. There is no language to
describe the metaphysical accurately.
When
I gently left that place, I was profoundly changed, especially in my doctrine.
It took a week before I could care about my surroundings. My only goal was experiencing
that blessed place again. By two weeks, I was willing to communicate with
others and started back to work and could concentrate to do my detailed job. But
in my quiet time I wanted to close my eyes and return to that beautiful place.
It was like I had a heaven-shaped hole in my life that only heaven would be
able to fill. About six weeks later, I knew
God was not going to fulfill my dream of a quick return there. I made an effort
to participate in my earth-life, work, enjoy friends, read, music – do the
things I had done before heaven happened to me. At night during my quiet time,
I would hold my clinging cross and meditate on Psalms 28 and feel a small
percent of what I had felt that special day. It brought such comfort and joy to
consider returning there.
I
have looked forward to the time God calls me to return on a permanent basis. I
don’t want to rush my death as I believe preparing to die and dying is some of
the most important spiritual work a person can do. I’m trying to enjoy the process
– the same way as I enjoyed the process of learning my relationship with God
when I accepted Jesus on October 11, 1975.
