A FUNNY THING (OR 3) HAPPENED ON MY WAY TO HEALING AND A NEW LIFE

As my introduction states, I planned to share my experiences on my way to "healing, growth and a new life". I started it after surviving critical injuries sustained in an accident, in which my husband and one of our best friends were killed almost instantly. I wanted to tell a story that was all onward and upward. Silly me. Of course there were setbacks. The worst included 3 more major surgeries, as well as numerous outpatient surgical procedures. I don't want to bore you with medical details, but I must say that each of the major surgeries had 2 annoying things in common. Contrary to what the surgeons promised, they were more complicated and thus involved a longer hospital stay. The docs meant well, but during the surgeries they discovered they were a lot trickier than they thought. For example, the 1-night stay lasted 1 week; the 2-inch incision extended to 8 inches. This left me with a vertical scar down my abdomen that makes me look like I was gutted like a fish. (At least it's fun making up stories about how I got all the scars.) Then there was a 3rd spinal surgery. Contrary to expectations after the 1st two, the pain kept increasing. The rods felt like they were slicing up and down my spine like steak knives, but I was told not possible, nothing movable by then. Nevertheless, it was thought that removal of the rods might help with the pain. (It didn't.) Turned out I was right. Due to lack of healing in parts of the fusion, the rods were loose. So to review, the rods went in, the rods came out, the rods played pinochle...sorry, I mean they went in again, and finally came out. This 3rd spinal surgery was followed by the worst post surgical care yet. I called my friend to come pick me up after 3 nights so I could leave AMA. I was not zonked on morhpine this time. I was lucid and livid. My friend did come, but she got the latest mishap straightened out so I stayed until discharged. You might think my back would be grateful after all I had gone through for it. But the initial damage and then a lot more from all that digging around to get the rods in and out, left it extremely vindictive. You also might wonder why I so miraculously survived the accident and defied the initial prognosis of paralysis, just to endure all this further trauma. I believe it's because the Universe had to give me a bigger kick in the behind to get my attention. I now can see how beneficial the setbacks were. For example, I was still making futile efforts to go back to work. Only after the 3rd spinal surgery did I realize this would not lead me to "healing and a new life". Prior to "retiring", some said I must have had so much faith to get through the loss of my husband and so much physical trauma at the same time. I don't understand that, but it did take a lot of faith to give up my 30-yr. career as a professional workaholic with no idea how I would survive. (There's that word again.) At least I'd learned enough by then to know that it would all work out just as it should, however that might be. It is two years later, and I can confirm that I've had everything I need when I need it. This includes most significantly the time to focus on transforming my life. I'd like to share more about that in future posts.

A Better Link to "A Most Inspirational Young Woman"

I was contacted by Dr. Megan McCarthy whose blog I mentioned in my January 2008 post. She gave me a link to an even more amazing site that she has developed to provide self-help. The link is: selfhelp4growth.blogspot.com. It will be worthwhile for anyone who is struggling or just looking for a little inspiration.

A Most Inspirational Young Woman

I just received & replied to a comment by Dr. Megan McCarthy. I highly recommend her site: meganmccarthy.blogspot. This is truly an amazing, accomplished, compassionate young woman from Adelaide, Australia. She has much to say about struggling with adversity. I know you will find her site worthwhile.

This is Not a Ghost Story

I approach this topic with caution. I certainly didn't believe that an ordinary, sane person such as I would have contact with my deceased husband. Nevertheless, after I came home from the hospital, some strange incidents made me wonder. Initially, several light bulbs blew out within a few days for no logical reason, i.e. not on the same circuit, not all used for the same amount of time, etc. Next, I started noticing my TV picture would go fuzzy just as I was doing something related to my husband, such as sending his mother flowers on her birthday, or planning to have dinner with one of his friends. There was always a connection to him. Otherwise, my TV was fine. I could go on, but the point is I was becoming very curious about the possibilities.

Like most people, I turned to the Internet for answers. I didn't get far at first because I was using the term "ghost" in my searches. I finally discovered that term is not used in connection with a deceased family member or close friend. (The term "ghost" is used in cases when, for some tragic reason, a deceased person is unable to cross over to the “other side”, and...you know the rest.) Once I got the right phrase, I found a wealth of material on the subject of contact with "spirits of deceased loved ones". According to my research, a substantial amount of widows and widowers believe they have had some contact with their deceased spouses. I also read that new spirits don't know how to control their spirit energy. Thus, unintentionally, they might leave their loved ones in the dark by blowing out a light bulb. While I would not have brought this up, I’ve spoken to 3 widows who, being less cautious than I, willingly offered: "The first thing I noticed was all the light bulbs blew out!" After I realized that I wasn't the only "normal" person having such experiences, I started to look forward to my husband's "appearances". Fortunately, he learned how to get my attention without unwittingly causing electrical problems.

That was another theme I found in my research: spirits often try to get the attention of their loved ones in various ways. One way is referred to as a "contact dream". Initially, a few acquaintances, who barely knew my husband, told me they had dreams about him that they described as “so real”. Only I would know that the specifics they provided about the dreams had to have come from him. Of course, I yearned for a contact dream of my own. That, however, was not to come until later.

Consider this just an introduction to the possibility of contact. At the same time, I feel compelled to include a warning about “mediums” - those who charge a fee to make contact for you. I’m not condemning all mediums, but one man, who refers to himself as a psychic, wrote that if someone regularly charges for such services, beware! There are a lot of scam artists out there who would take advantage of grief-stricken persons who are desperate for contact. He further said that genuine contact is more likely to occur directly. The psychic is an author whose books are available for a price, but he provides much information on the Internet for free. He even offers assistance with developing the sensitivities most likely to result in the ability to have contact with the spirit of a loved one.

FREE AT LAST!

My hospitalization seemed to last for weeks. That’s probably because it did – four weeks and a day from the date of the accident. After two surgeries, various complications, and a stint in rehab, I finally was told I could go home. That had been my goal, some would say to the point of obsession, since the accident. In fact, I pulled some rather absurd stunts to escape that would only seem like a good idea to someone on morphine - as I was at the time. (I don’t actually recall any of them.) In one of my lame getaway attempts, I said I had to leave to pick up my son at kindergarten. The flaw in this plan was that my clearly adult son (over 6 feet tall with full beard) was with me in the hospital every day and night. All of the hospital personnel knew him, so the kindergarten gambit was somewhat lacking in credibility. Another irrational escape attempt was reported in my hospital records. (My friend, who is a chiropractor, was able to obtain a complete copy of my hospital records, which were voluminous, and she reviewed every entry and test report.) According to these records, I had what is called a central IV line, i.e. it was threaded all the way to my heart. It was further reported that I had removed the central line. Understand, one can’t effectively sneak down the hospital corridors and out the door while hooked up to an IV. The nurse who discovered this asked how it could have happened. I cheerfully replied: “It happened by accident!” Apparently though, it’s highly unlikely that a central IV line would be entirely removed accidentally. Due to the resulting notations about my mental status, I was taken off morphine. My GP (former) thought it would be a good idea to do this “cold turkey”. The records report, however, that I got so sick from the abrupt withdrawal that a hospital doctor put me on Fentanyl. This relieved the withdrawal symptoms and provided pain relief similar to morphine, but without morphine’s comical (at least in my case) side effects. (I digress, but in the process I have introduced two of my many blessings: my devoted son and equally devoted friend, the chiropractor. They were as important to my recovery as the gifted surgeons and numerous caring nurses and therapists.)

Back to the original theme. The homecoming day came, my bags were packed, my transport arranged, and guess what? After all of my schemes to break out, I was a wreck! I had not given any thought to the effect it would have on me to go to the home that I had shared with my husband who died at the scene of the accident. My home now would be devoid of his presence, but full of his memory and belongings. His robe would still be hanging on the bathroom door! As the departure time approached, I became more and more agitated. Then all of a sudden, I felt a wave of comforting calm flow through me, instantly eliminating all of the emotional turmoil. (No, there was no change in medication at that time.) I realized then that a fourth “intervention” (I mentioned three “interventions” in previous postings) would allow me to have a peaceful homecoming rather than a collision with grief as might be expected under the circumstances. With a sense of awe and gratitude, I looked up and simply said, “Oh! Thank you!”

The Journey Home (or So I Thought) & Another Gift

The accident that changed the course of my life took place in a resort about 3 hrs. by air from where I live. As a new widow, I was naturally anxious to be close to family and friends. Even the other injured survivors were air-ambulanced home within a day or so of the accident. Mind you, I was clueless as to what had happened to me. I knew my husband had died and that I was injured. I certainly didn’t realize the extent of my injuries or the need for further hospitalization. I don't want bore anyone with medical details. I’ll just say that I had typical trauma injuries, including a totally severed clavicle and about a dozen fractured vertebrae. The fracture that was the most troublesome early on was a "burst fracture" of one of my lumbar vertebrae. Apparently, having this type of fracture isn't considered to be a medically sound condition for travel. So, I had to stay for spinal fusion surgery prior to going home. (The severed clavicle also would prove to be particularly troublesome, but that's another story - or in this case - another posting topic.)

Finally, I was delivered by air ambulance to a city near my home about 5 days after the accident. I begged to be taken to my home, but there was yet another ambulance standing by ready to take me to yet another hospital for further treatment.

As discussed in my first posting, I never consciously experienced the accident. More mysteriously, I did not feel the pain from the accident injuries. I’ve been told that many of these injuries are normally quite painful. In addition, I was told that it would not be possible to move my broken parts in the manner that I did. Only reviewing the X-rays convinced my chiropractor that these fractures were real. This was not a totally free ride, however. I did feel lots of pain from surgeries and other post-accident treatments and complications. This indicates that I wasn’t unable to feel pain altogether. Rather, it was some kind of neurological disconnect solely related to the accident injuries. Feel free to interpret this as some sort of neurotic or dissociative reaction. As a psychology major, I learned about hysterical illness producing symptoms that could not possibly have a physical cause. In my case there was a profusion of physical causes that failed to produce the expected symptoms. Whatever the reason, I consider the “disconnect” to be yet another unexpected and very welcome gift.

Also, who knows? My first posting described a “place” of love and comfort in which I remember being during the hour or more that it took to be rescued from the SUV that was flattened by a bus. I refer to that as the “first intervention”. Of course, I’ve read - with some skepticism - about “near death” experiences. If the first intervention was something like that, maybe there was more about that time I don’t remember. I’m really speculating here, but perhaps I was given a choice about returning to my life here. If so, I would have been more motivated to do so with a promise of help with the inevitable suffering to come. I refer to this help (the “pain disconnect”) as the second intervention.

I’m not trying to convince anyone else of anything about my experiences. MY mind, however, was wide open after these interventions and others to come. Yes, there are more to come.

The Journey Begins: An Unexpected Gift

My former life ended on the day of an accident: bus vs. SUV (the bus won decidedly). The accident killed my husband and one of our best friends, leaving me and 3 other friends with the usual trauma injuries that I refer to as "squashed-by-a-bus syndrome." The bus driver must have been fine because he ran from the scene. (Later I was blessed with extraordinary and dedicated surgeons and therapists that guided me on the path toward healing, growth, and a new life, but that topic will be in other postings.) After the accident, of which I have no conscious memory, I "went" to a place that was neither light nor dark, and where I couldn't see anyone or anything. Yet, I clearly remember feeling loved and comforted, and thinking: "I'm OK, because I'm not alone". There is no rationale to that thinking, and the experience could be attributed to a dissociative or delusional episode resulting from the trauma of the accident. No matter how it's characterized, it was a gift to me. The experience occurred during the hour or more that I was trapped in the middle of the SUV that had been hit broadside, flipped over, and nearly flattened by the bus. Had I not been "taken" to that place of love and comfort, I would have been unbearably aware that my husband of 20 years and our friend lay next to me, dying or dead. My first "real" memory after the accident was being strapped to a gurney outside the SUV. I did not question what happened, was quite alert, and felt no pain. (I'm told I had several injuries that normally would be excruciatingly painful.) I then was loaded into an ambulance with 3 other injured survivors. I first confirmed that each of my ambulance-mates was conscious and doing OK (considering the circumstances). Then I continually asked about my husband and our missing friend. I was not told, until I was considered to be stabilized enough to bear the news, that both had died at the scene. As devastating as that news was, I will always be grateful for being "taken" to that place of love and comfort during a period that otherwise would have been intolerable.