Part 1 begins with the call to 911.
Part 2 is told to me by my family. I have no memory of the ambulance ride, the ER, being in ICU or any visitors.
Part 3 is what I do recall. The sequence and timeline is askew but the struggle was real! It is my 55 hours on life support.
A Memorial Day Miracle #3
I sense being trapped in a chasm of darkness. I’m confused to why I’m powerless to move and feel completely entombed. A faint continual beep is heard but I can’t discern if it is real or my imagination.
Questions churn in my mind.
Where am I? Why am I alone? Where is my family? Why am I so afraid?
Feeling isolated, I long to find an escape but can’t figure out how. The beeping is now quiet making the silence deafening. I hear a door! Then another door. I hear steps…. but nobody comes. I need to tell Don something. I am so afraid. I don’t want him to leave me here alone. Where is everyone? What day is it?
I watch the four walls move inward and pressure mounts. They are getting closer! A wave of fear consumes me as I fight and struggle to escape. But I don’t know how. I have to get out. I’m going to be crushed! Frantic to catch a breath my eyes burst open.
I see a white ceiling in a white room and count the lights above. I’m okay. Feeling peaceful, I surrender to the heavy weight of my eyes and slowly close them.
Only for the four walls to begin moving inward again. They keep getting closer and it’s suffocating. The fear returns with a vengeance, seeming stronger, darker and more forceful. Help! It’s starting all over again…….
It seemed my “escape” was only attained when I opened my eyes. The roaring fear would dissipate. But I couldn’t keep them open. They were too heavy and simply closed.
Once again the four walls begin to move inward….. restarting the terrorizing fear.
Anxiety rises from being here alone that keep circling back to the same questions:
Where am I? Why am I alone? Where is my family? Why am I so afraid?
Unconscious, I am imprisoned in a living hell.
Abruptly, I wake up. I’m on a gurney in a surgical room. They are talking to me and telling me what they are going to do but I can’t comprehend. They mention a catheter and my heart. WHAT! Why am I conscious? There is irritating music playing. The surgeon looks 16! The team of doctors and nurses in the room are moving to the music. Did I wake up in the middle of a nightmare? Help me! Somebody find my family!
I’m struggling again with the enclosing four walls. I’ve got to open my eyes to make them stop. The fear is overwhelming. Please……. Help…….. Me.
Someone is petting my arm. I hear my friend Renee say, “Dana, we love you and we’re praying for you.” Why is Renee petting me? She knows I would not welcome that. What in the world is she thinking?
What day is it? I’ve got to tell Don something. Where is my family?
I am conscious. I’m in a large hospital room. I can’t move. I don’t even want to. I hear machines. I see LOTS of machines. Oh my. What happened?
Don is holding my hand. I can’t talk. There is something in my throat. I need to tell him something. I take my hand and gesture that I want to write. But he thinks I am just saying don’t hold my hand. I signal again I want to write and Brent guesses it. My nurse was nice enough to untie my hand so that I could write for a few minutes. They hand me paper and pen and I write, ‘What day is it?”
In my unconscious state, time was stuck. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been out. Was it hours, days or weeks? However, the entire time a nagging thought kept flittering through my mind. I have to tell Don that I didn’t pay the medical insurance or workman’s comp bills before I had surgery. Is it going to be too late. If it doesn’t get paid before the last day of the month, it is cancelled and I don’t know what day it is!
When Brent and Don saw what I wrote they both answered, Wednesday. Nodding my head no, I then underlined, what day is it? When they both answered May 31st, I was so relieved because there was still time to pay the insurance!
Don never imagined that my first communication after life support would be worrying about unpaid bills.