Seven times and I’ve lived to tell the tale, lived being the operative word. 🙂
The first time was so surreal. Nothing like hoovering about ones body in the void and wondering what the heck is going on. It was only my second time under the knife and I had only heard vague stories about out of body experiences; but was this one? Blipping monitors, rushing, masked figures working over a body that was so familiar to me. Being jolted backwards and darkness until I was awakened from my deep slumber. Maybe it was a dream, I’m not sure; but medical records don’t lie and there it was, in black and white and me, never having been the wiser. Like they say, what we don’t know won’t kill us.
The second time was self induced. I tried to escape this world of pain and misery that at the ripe old age of 25 was making me hate life so desperately. One pill, two, whole bottle gone. Sleepy, so sleepy. I lay down and drift. Then, I wake up. I don’t feel so good. I’ve thrown up and I smell of it and sweat and I remember what I’ve done. I look around groggily and I’m still here. I’m still in hell. Great. Best laid plans and I can’t even get it right.
Third times the charm, right? WRONG! Another bad anastesia episode. I guess I have trouble with that stuff; because it does a number on me. Makes me die. I guess I should’ve known that; but as luck would have it, I didn’t know.
Number four. “Slow down! You’re going too fast for all this rain. We’re gonna get hurt.” I stammer out as the car flies down the highway. He steps on the breaks and we hydroplane out of control. I see us flying backward with headlights staring us in the face. I’m scared. I scream, “Oh dear God, please don’t let us get hurt.” Off the road, up the embankment we fly before tumbling over and over down the side and land, hard on the car’s side. We’re not hurt. The car is; but we have survived the horror.
Number five was so unexpected. Who would’ve thought that in this day and age that a woman would almost die in child birth. But, low and behold, there I was, about to give birth to my miracle and I crashed, hard! My parents, my husband, right there with me and nothing anyone could do about it as I fought a life and death battle for myself. But the end result was I got to hold my little boy and if I knew then what I know now, I’d do it again.
Number six was interesting. I have heard of people who this happens to; but I never thought I’d experience it myself. I’d driven out of the rain several minutes ago and the sky was clear. I stepped out of the car and got ZAPPED!!!! Lightening hit the ground where I was standing and I felt the ground kiss my butt! I embraced the darkness for several minutes before I heard a little old man screaming about me being struck by lightening and how my shoes, which were now glued to the ground in front of me several yards, were all blackened on the soles. Good thing was I was at the VA Clinic and had medical attention instantly.
The last time, Lucky number seven, was a gift from God for sure. As I lay on the floor, being kicked to death, God spoke to me, telling me to open my eyes, even when I’d already given myself up for death to take me. God wouldn’t let me give up. He urged me on until I finally opened them to see the tear streaked faces of my son and his best friend, and got a surge of energy I didn’t know I had to help us all.
Since going back to God’s way, I have discovered that even though I am not privy to his thoughts or plans, HE does have a plan for me and it is not to die. At least not until HE decides it is the right time to die.