Not that long ago, a bunch of us here at work went to lunch together, as we are wont to do, and one of my coworkers, Bill, told us the story of his near-death experience and I.was.riveted. So I asked him to tell it to all y'all, and here it is.
Fridays are my favorite day of the week. Most of the time, they lead to something better on the weekend: payday, concerts, outings with friends — a quiet weekend with the family comes following Friday. Almost always.
One Friday I will forever remember, and so will my family — and it wasn’t because of some fun upcoming excursion on Saturday. No siree, this Friday was July 26, 2008 and even though I went to work as usual, things quickly took a turn.
After about a half hour at work following a stressful week, there suddenly came this pain and tension in my neck. Not your ordinary “I’ve been looking at something sideways too long” type of pain, but something much more intense and unrelenting than even stress would deliver. Around 8:30, the pain became familiar (I had my first heart attack in 2002), moving into my arm and across my chest.
Deciding I needed to head to the emergency room, I went to HR and told them I was going to the hospital, since I thought I was having a heart attack. It was 8:35 when I left the parking lot.
There were orange cones blocking all the parking places in the ER parking lot. After a couple of circles around the drop-off area, a driver for one of the ambulances asked if they could help, and I said, “Where do you park if you’re having a heart attack?” I think this was the right question, because he told me to put the car in park and give him the keys and he would see that my car got parked, but not before he escorted me into the triage/welcome area of the ER. The time was around 8:42.
Never getting the opportunity to sit down, the nurse got my ID and info, then put a wristband on me and walked me back to a bed in the active part of the ER. Within 10 minutes I was told I was in the middle of a heart attack. They asked if I had contacted anyone. I’d already called my wife, so they rolled me on down the long, brick-lined hallways on the way to the cath lab. Lying in the bed and rolling toward my potential date with destiny, I was thinking how much I did not like fluorescent lights and how artificial and cold they felt.
It was around 60° in the lab. I looked at the clock and it was 8:55. The ceilings were high (15 feet or so, I was told), which made the room feel even colder. When they helped me onto the cath table, it was frigid, and the cath technician told me that the machines like it cold, so they keep it that way. This was one specific time that I really didn’t like the backless gowns they provide at the hospital. They gave me a couple of blankets to keep me warm(er), and slid me onto the cath table. Damn, it was cold.
Lying my head back, they told me to relax and as I did, I was suddenly without explanation floating upward, toward the ceiling. As the ceiling got closer, I felt as though I was travelling faster, and upon passing through that oh-so-high ceiling, I was accelerating, much like in the movie for Star Trek where they’re jumping into warp drive. The sensation was amazing — like nothing I could have ever imagined, like a newfound freedom and I was on my way. Really on my way.
Until I got zapped. Suddenly, I felt like I had fallen 20 feet or so into a rude awakening. I saw a couple of the cath technicians and nurses with their little green hats and surgical masks looking at me intently. One of them informed me that “You had a near-fatal arrhythmia and we had to shock you.” Okay.
So I laid my head back down and as I did, I started floating upward again, but before I could even get to the ceiling, one of them said “We’re going to have to shock you again.” And they did. This time it hurt, really hurt. Bad enough that I sat straight up on the table, and they told me that I had to lie back down so they could finish putting my stent in. And unlike the TV shows where they put the paddles both on the front and hit the button, they had a pad on front and one on back, which kicked my butt into sitting position — pronto. Don’t think I have ever moved so suddenly and so quickly. Once they got me back lying down, they administered something into my IV and it was all over but the shouting.
If you have ever had children, there is a moment at birth when they make their grand appearance and you first lay eyes on them — a moment forever frozen in my memory. A moment when you’re overcome with a physical and mental wash of unconditional love for that child that (hopefully) carries on forever. When I was “on my way” it felt as though someone loved me like that. I did not see relatives or stay gone long enough to get to heaven, but it left me absolutely no doubt regarding the afterlife and where I will be when my actual time comes. Death holds no fear for me, particularly now.
I woke up with my wife at my side, holding my hand and thanking God that he had kept me around. When she asked me if I was upset that they had brought me back, I told her no, that God has plans for me and I am still needed. I ultimately got two stents out of this adventure, one on Friday and one on Monday (they don’t do two at a time), and have been working to stay around without future visits to the hospital.
Meanwhile, I’m living my life like there’s no tomorrow, cherishing the things that are valuable, truly valuable and trying to let go of the unimportant stuff. My advice to my friends and family is to hold on to what is dear to you, loving every chance you get and forgiving as often as you can. I also recommend spending time getting to know and love Jesus. There is tremendous peace in that, a peace that will carry you far beyond this world.
Fridays are still my favorite day of the week.
