I Was Dead But Now I Am Alive!

It’s funny the amount of things that we take for granted on a daily basis. Lights turning on immediately after hitting a switch, cars starting right up, our bodies taking breath after breath without a single concentrated thought from us. Three years ago this month I was lying in a hospital bed struggling by the second to will my body to take the next breath. And the next and the next. Little did I know how drastically and permanently my life was about to change. And how a vision of Heaven would give me spiritual consolation like I had never known.

The Pandemic Strikes

My body had succumbed to the nasty Covid virus which at that time was still in its initial and worst stages. Along with Covid I had also developed a nasty bout of bilateral pneumonia. I was down for the count as I had never been down before. When the mere act of flexing your thumb causes your oxygen saturation to plummet, you become deftly aware of how close to the brink your body is teetering. And then you get to the point where you simply cannot do it anymore. Death seems not only a viable but a quite welcome option. Enter the ventilator.

I wasn’t aware at the time of being intubated that my odds of ever coming off of mechanical ventilation or even survival for that matter were slim to none. Not that it would have mattered as intubation was simply the last resort to sustain life. For me it seemed a welcome reprieve from the agony of gasping for breath and simply being awake. Little did I know that what seemed like a welcomed nap would take me on a journey from the gates of hell to a vision of Heaven.

A Long Strange Trip

If you have never been in a drug induced coma before, let me tell you, it’s a trip, literally! Hallucinations based upon perceived outside stimulations can be hellacious. Since the comatose has no concept of the passage of time, hallucinations continue on and on like a never ending tape loop. I have never partaken in recreational drug use before. But I can only imagine that my hallucinations were on par to what they called in the ’60’s “a bad trip.” Most horror films cannot equate to some of the things I saw.

Although the hallucinations were overtly real to my working consciousness, I was oblivious as to what was transpiring with my physical body. From October 24th to November 7th of that year my physical condition had deteriorated from dire to moribund. That is, the point of death. Blissfully unaware in my comatose state, my body was completely failing me. To the point of going septic on November 7th.

For those that don’t know, sepsis strikes hard and fast. In order to survive medical attention and time are of the utmost importance. Despite the super human efforts of an amazing medical staff, my body had had enough. By the time I was loaded in the squad for transportation to a higher level facility, I coded.

Embraced By Death

Death comes swiftly and quickly, even when one is not consciously aware that they have died. The funny thing is though, some awareness remained. Although I cannot conclusively mark the exact timing of events, at some point, I imagine when I coded, a wave of peace, like I had never known, swept over me. Suddenly all of the hellacious hallucinations were gone. I found myself sitting in my favorite place, perhaps a vision of heaven, Grandma’s kitchen.

Going Home

Ahh, to be back at Grandma’s house once again. Everything in its place, just so, exactly as it had been for the previous 40 years. The sweet smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. The harmonious sounds of polka music coming in through the open windows on a perfect spring day. A sure sign that Grandpa had resumed his post painting signs in the garage. Sitting at the kitchen table I was immersed in both a wave of nostalgia and a peaceful security like none I had ever felt. This vision of Heaven, this peace was where I wanted to be forever. I was home for good.

I wish I could remember what we talked about, but alas, I cannot. The only thing I remember distinctly is that at some point in the conversation, Grandma abruptly set down her coffee cup and said, “C, it’s time for you to go now, you’re going to be late for your meeting.” If I knew nothing else of Grandma it was when she used this tone of voice she meant business. If Grandma said go, you went. I did not know where I was supposed to go, I couldn’t recall any commitment. Yet it was time to be alive again, resurrection was imminent.

Then suddenly everything went black and the next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital bed, hours?, days?, weeks? later. Having no sense of time or place the only thing clearly in my mind was the overarching peace I had known at Grandma’s house on that one last visit.

More Work to be done!

Had I gone to Heaven? No, I had not beheld the beatific vision as it was clearly not my time to do so. Yet I had transitioned, albeit briefly, from this physical world into the spiritual world. God could have easily put me into a field of flowers or an overpowering bright light. But THE ONE who knows every hair on my head also knows what and who I’ll recognize and listen too.

HE still has work for me to do. So HE used Grandma to tell me it was time to get back to work. I, of course, obeyed. Thinking back on it now, and after having received copious spiritual direction, I can jokingly use a spinoff of the famous line from the movie Field of Dreams, “Is this Heaven?, No, it’s Grandma’s house.” But I can still hope and pray that the real Heaven looks and feels a lot like Grandma’s, complete with coffee and cookies!