Realizing we're never alone

Everything that has happened to me in September symbolises life and death. A part of me died, so a new part could come to life. The closest this symbol came to reality was on the 15th in 2014.

That day, I laid on a hospital bed and was under the knife for over four hours. After the surgery, as I was coming out of a deep sleep from anaesthesia, I could hear the nurses talking and asking me if I could move my feet. As hard as I tried I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even open my eyes to tell them that I understood what they were asking.

My mind began having a horror story in my mind. I thought that they were just starting the operation and I’d be awake through it all. I was trying everything I could think of to say that I was still awake but I couldn’t move. After a few minutes, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. “The surgery went well and you are OK.” I still couldn’t move or open my eyes but I was so relaxed to hear those words. I ended up passing back out for a few more hours.

When I awoke I felt like I was choking and became combative with the nurses and the doctors. I had a tube down my throat, which was to help keep pressure off my heart. I tried so hard to remove that hose and had nurses holding me down saying that I would end up hurting myself. I really didn’t care, I just wanted that hose out of me.

As fast as I became combative, I passed back out just as fast. When I re-awoke my hands were strapped to the side of the bed and there was no way for me to remove that hose or do much of anything. That hose stayed in me for another 15 hours, in all it was a part of me for a day.

After it was removed, I started moving about, eating, and going for walks with the nurses help. Within a week I was released and though in pain, I was looking forward to a new life.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing. I was back in the hospital within a week and had a second operation, then two weeks after that surgery I was again back in the hospital for a third operation. It was before that third operation, that I thought this was it. That I wouldn’t be walking out of the hospital.

I had so many tests and the doctors couldn’t find an answer as to why I was going downhill. One night, laying in my bed, I could look out in the hallway and watch the nurses go about their jobs and making everyone as comfortable as could be. I laid there and found an acceptance to everything that was going on and found a closeness with God that stays with me today.

My worst fear up to that night was dying alone. And in that bed I was physically alone, I knew I wasn’t alone. I had prayers coming from my friends at 12 Step groups. I had prayers coming from co-workers. I had prayers coming from children and step-children. And I had the love and prayers from my now wife in England.

That night I realized that I will never be alone and it was then I understood the greatest gift of all – life. Life now and life after death.