Patty - "My Brief Experience with Death"
09 06
Maybe it was the intensity of that love and enlightenment. No words could truly describe it. Since that experience, I have noticed that I have had heightened sensations and increased intuitive and psychic abilities. Even though I tried to dismiss it as nothing, something inside me won’t let me shake it. Now it is time to share my experience. Keep in mind that I am not a writer, nor professor, but simply a person with a few pages from my soul’s book of life. When a woman knows there is something dreadfully wrong with her health, yet doctor after doctor tells her, “It’s all in your head – You’re just getting older”, she doesn’t know what to think. If it weren’t for the love of her family, she probably would give up. This was true for me. I knew I was getting worse and if someone didn’t find the cause soon, I most certainly would die.
In my case, I don’t know if the doctors couldn’t see past a trauma I experienced or if women are more complex than men and can’t be diagnosed as easily. All I know is that I was dying, senselessly and needlessly, and no one was doing anything about it. To them, I was a picture of physical health that was being drained by post-traumatic stress. Deep inside, I felt there was more to it.
I told myself I would try one more doctor. That’s it. Then I would give up my fight for life if she found nothing wrong with me. Having to wait a couple months for the appointment was tough. A couple months here, there, and everywhere added up to years. Five years in my case. It would be five long years of trying to find out what was wrong with me. Unbelievable! Yet life’s everyday turmoil continued around me.
Beginning at the end of 1989, I struggled for every ounce of strength I had to get through selling our home to move out to the family farm that we purchased. My father-in-law wanted us to fix up the farm and make him proud. After we remodeled the farmhouse with our life’s savings, we suffered a major setback in 1990 when the farmhouse burnt to the ground. The only clothes that we had left were the ones we had on and those in the hamper at the empty house we were selling. Then in 1992, we suffered the loss of my father-in-law, after which, we began to unveil the truth about my mother-in-law. It was sheer determination that kept me alive with all the stress upon stress I endured during those five years.
At the appointment in March of 1994, the woman doctor did a thorough exam and felt everything looked good. I was told I would hear from her office when the results of the routine Pap smear came back. Since I had regular Pap smears and was told yet again that I was a picture of health, my family and I went ahead with our planned trip to Colorado.
While in Colorado, I grew weaker and weaker. I could feel the strength draining from my body. I barely managed to smile my way through the weekend. When we arrived home, our answering machine was full with messages from the doctor’s office. It was easy to hear the urgency in each message left.
When I called the office, I was told to come in right away. The doctor told me that the Pap smear indicated I needed further testing. I was assured that even if I had cervical cancer it could be easily cured with a cone biopsy. However, after further tests and the cone biopsy, she stated that the cancer was already in the late stage and had invaded my outer tissues and lymph nodes. At first she tried to scold me for not having regular exams that should have caught this cancer earlier, in which event, minor procedures would have cured it. When I reminded her that I did go to doctor after doctor and had Pap smear after Pap smear, she eased up on me. I could sense that she felt this cancer should never have gotten to this point. I agreed with her.
The doctor told me that I needed radical surgery immediately and that it could not wait. She stated that I would have a radical hysterectomy and removal of the affected lymph nodes. Since she never removed lymph nodes, another doctor would assist her. I was told that if I survived, once lymph nodes were removed, my lower body would swell until it could not swell any more. The pain from the skin being so swollen and tight could become unbearable. Before I even left the doctor’s office, the pre-surgery testing and surgery were scheduled for the following week.
Friends begged me to get another opinion, so I called a hospital in New York that had been recommended. After I provided my background information and diagnosis, they made an emergency appointment for me. At the appointment, I was basically told the same thing. Surgery was needed without further delay. I was told that I needed to have a radical hysterectomy, in which my uterus, cervix, and a major part of my vagina would be removed. I wouldn’t know till after the surgery if my ovaries were removed or not. That option depended on how everything looked during the operation. Lymph nodes from hip to hip and up under the rib cage would also be removed and tested to see how far the cancer had spread.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t have time to think. Part of me felt relieved that after going to doctor after doctor for years, someone finally discovered that I was really sick. The other part of me wanted to cry when I remembered all the cruel things those doctors told me throughout those years. The most common remark was, “It’s all in your head”. Another was, “You women make me sick. You’re all afraid of getting older. It’s just your hormones changing.” They were so off base, but it never mattered what I said.
The doctor that made me feel the worst sat engrossed, using a ruler to draw lines with different colored markers on my chart. When I attempted to say I was there because I deeply sensed something was really wrong with me, he rudely and abruptly cut me off and said, “Did I tell you to speak? You will speak when I ask you to and not before.” When I started to say, “But-” he interrupted me, pointed his finger just inches from my face, and rudely said, “I didn’t tell you to speak.” I felt so bad that I almost gave up wanting to find out what was wrong with me.
During those five long years of being told over and over again that nothing was wrong with me besides stress, I knew something was killing my body. I felt it so strongly that I caught myself beginning to watch women at the stores to see if I could find someone that could finish raising my son and be a good wife to my husband when I died. My heart ached at the mere thought of not being able to be with them forever. To know I was right all along was dreadful. To think, I only had a few days to prepare myself and my family for the possibility that I might die from a cancer that could have, and should have, been stopped in its track early on. I felt numb, but not scared.
It was hard to put on my faithful smile, but I did, as I bought my twelve-year-old son’s Easter presents before my scheduled surgery. I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to do it again. The thought of not being there Easter morning to see his face light up as he opened his presents and searched for all the plastic eggs filled with money broke my heart. I didn’t know if the adorable little green suit and multi-colored tie that I purchased for him would be his Easter suit or the one he’d be wearing to my funeral.
With no time to think, I was talked into having the surgery in New York. The day of surgery came too fast. I undressed and got into the ugly hospital gowns. Then my father and husband waited nervously with me until I went down to surgery. As I was put onto the gurney, my lips quivered and my eyes filled with tears while I told them, possibly for the last time, that I loved them. I didn’t know if I’d ever see them again. When I awoke and realized that I made it through the surgery, I looked up toward the ceiling, closed my eyes and said, “Thank you Lord” under my breath. Then I began to feel tugging from the tubes that seemed to be sticking from me everywhere. They were down my nose, in my neck, in my spine, two on each side of my abdomen, in my hand, and, of course, I had the awful pee bag.
After a few days, the results of the lymph node testing revealed that one in every three nodes were cancerous and radiation treatment was strongly advised. On a less serious note, I discovered that I had developed pesky allergies. One was to the orange solution that they poured on my stomach and vagina in the operating room to help sterilize the area. The other was from simple plastic tape that covered the whole length of my spine and around my neck. It took the skin right off my body. In addition, the morphine began to give me terrible headaches, so it was stopped.
As for the two drain tubes that they put in on each side of my abdomen, I was told that they weren’t stitched tightly enough during the surgery. This caused my body fluid to leak profusely out around the tubes instead of into them. The fluid leaked out so fast that they had to tape big, thick pads around the tubes. Guess what kind of tape they used? That’s right, plastic tape that took even more skin off my body! I had bright red patches of raw skin all over me. The pads needed changed so often that the nurses told me to change them myself. After watching the one nurse drop an opened gauze pad on the sticky floor, bend down and pick it up, and then attempt to put it on my open wounds before I stopped her, I guess I didn’t mind having to put them on by myself. So I thought.
The following day I got up and awkwardly pushed the equipment that held my IV’s and monitors slowly down the hall for my daily exercise. On my way back to my room, I noticed the pads taped around my abdomen’s drain tubes were totally saturated from all the fluid leaking from my body. The fluid began running profusely down my legs and I couldn’t stop it. I went back to my room, climbed into bed, and attempted to lift my wet hospital gown to change the pads, but I was too weak. While I waited to see if my strength would come back, the fluid continued to soak my blanket and sheets. I felt weaker, so I pushed the call button for a nurse.
Patiently, I waited for a nurse to bring in a dry hospital gown, sheets, and a blanket to replace the soaked ones I was lying in. As I waited, I got colder and colder. My body began to tremble with chills. As the body fluid continued to leak out around the two tubes, I sensed something wasn’t right. I was so cold by now that my teeth began to chatter.
After about an hour, I buzzed the nurse again. The nurse rudely replied, “I’ll get there when I get there.” About an hour and a half later, the door to my room opened, and in bounded a nurse. She didn’t even look to see if anything was wrong as she threw the hospital gown, sheets, and blanket right onto my face and chest. As the nurse turned away to rush out, she rudely said, “I don’t have time for this. I’m having problems with my husband.” When the linens landed on me, something strange sort of click in my body. I began to gasp for air, but I couldn’t breathe. My body was too weak to lift my hand up to pull the linens off of my face. A tingling feeling came over my chilled shaken body. The tingling grew so loud, that the sound drowned out all of the hospital noises. I knew I was about to die. My last thought was that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my son, husband, and family. Then everything was silent.
Next, I briefly was above the bed looking down. Just as I realized that was my lifeless body in the bed below, my thoughts were abruptly distracted. Suddenly, I was pulled into complete darkness. Amidst the total darkness, I smelled an indescribable odor. At about the same time, my fluid-soaked body felt coolness in the air. I remember wishing that I had a coat to wear to keep me warm.
Then I began to feel myself moving upward. As I was being pulled upward, I began to feel as if I was in a tunnel, an endless, pitch-black tunnel. The speed at which I rose began to increase, faster and faster. It seemed swifter than anything imaginable or possible. As I continued to speed upwards through the seemingly endless darkness, there were puffs of clouds brushing across my eyelids and cheeks. It felt nice, like cool dew. That’s when my eyes looked upward.
There I saw such a magnificently, wondrous light which was white and pure. At first it seemed very far away. One glance at this bright, splendid light made me feel safe, loved, and serene. I didn’t feel pain or sadness, just an overwhelming peaceful love that grew more intense the closer I got to it. This white light was extraordinarily bright. It was almost blinding. I felt myself squinting just so I could gaze at it. I looked away from the light for a second because it seemed intense enough to burn right through my eyes, yet it didn’t. Maybe the cool mist brushing across my face helped in some way. When I glanced away, all I saw was the vast blackness around me and below me, so I gazed back up toward the light and never looked down again. As I watched the light get closer and brighter, the sense of tranquil love grew stronger and stronger.
Suddenly, I was no longer accelerating upwards. While I still squinted from the extreme brightness of the light, my eyes began to adjust to it. I began to notice thick white puffs of clouds continuously moving about. A breeze from the moving clouds gently blew the lightweight, long, flowing garment that I was now wearing. I could also see that I was barefoot as I began to slowly walk amidst the clouds.
Before I knew it, I was gazing upon this magnificent gate that was gloriously glistening. I just stared with amazement at its beauty. Rays of prismatic light were bouncing off the exquisite gems in all directions. It was totally breathtaking. Since I always longed for a driveway gate back on the farm, I caught myself engulfed in trying to remember every astonishing detail about it. As I peered even closer, I watched as pearly gems sparkled radiantly in the light.
A remarkable peace drew me in beyond the gates. I felt so safe that fear never entered my thoughts. I began to squint real hard in attempt to see through the beaming light and continuously moving clouds, but I couldn’t. Then in the near distance toward the right, I got a glimmer of something, so I squinted even harder. The clouds seemed to part enough just to show a hint of a shadow of two people. It seemed to be a man with a woman standing by his side. I didn’t feel as if I knew them, but I felt as if they were waiting for me for a reason. Just as the clouds were about to thin out enough for me to see clearer, they abruptly thickened and closed up around the couple. All I could see again were the clouds passing by me in the light. I wondered why the clouds thickened up so fast just as I was about to see who was there.
At that same time, I realized there was someone right in front of me. The clouds also thickened around that shadow so I could not see him. There are no words to describe the incredibly intense love I felt, standing there in front of him. No one could ever imagine a love so powerfully strong. At that moment, it hit me. I was in heaven standing before our Lord. As I stood there before Him, I felt that He knew every detail of my soul. I felt dumb that I didn’t realize the gates I had passed through were the pearly gates until that moment. My eyes turned away for a second and looked down to my right. I didn’t know if the light was just so bright or if I felt unworthy of such wondrous love. It seemed as if He could hear my thoughts because I heard, “Fear not; for thou art worthy of my love.” As I heard those words, my throat grew tight and my eyes swelled with tears. I thought, “Are you sure?” With each question came an answer and reassurance. It seemed as if my whole life was reviewed and clarified in a flash.
If I could only choose one word to describe our Lord, it would have to be “Love”, an indisputable love. I don’t know how to explain it. I couldn’t see Him through the clouds and light, but I felt His love so deeply. He was right there in front of me, so close to me. I felt incredible love, power, and peace in His voice, but I don’t know if He actually spoke. It was as if we felt, heard, and responded to each other without the need to speak. I was told I had to go back; I wasn’t supposed to die when I did; and I had more work to do. In addition, I was told that I had to protect my husband and son from someone.
Just as I was about to ask more, it became dark again. While gasping for air, I realized I was back in the hospital bed. This time when my right arm reached up to pull the blanket, sheets, and hospital gowns off my face, it had the strength to pull them off. I could breathe. I began to hear the noises of the hospital and feel pain again. My body was shivering and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. Once again, my body was extremely weak. My hospital gown and bed linens were still soaked. I sort of felt sad that I was back. When I was in heaven, there was no pain. My body was not all cut up. I didn’t have any tubes hanging from me. I was whole. I was strong. I was loved more than anyone could imagine. As I looked up to the heavens, I meekly nodded as if to say that I understood. Then I closed my eyes.
A while later the nurse came in. She walked over to my bed and nonchalantly said, “You’re right. You are soaked.” She went to change my hospital gown but realized the linens that she brought in and threw on me earlier were also wet by now, so she went to get more. As she was putting a dry hospital gown on me, she told me about her bad day and about the problems she was having with her husband. I was only half listening to her as she rambled on because I was remembering how I died because of the bad day she was having. I don’t believe I said a word while she was there. I had a thousand thoughts going through my head about my glorious time in heaven.
Now not only did my struggle for life begin again with the many medical complications that followed – especially the radiation therapy – but also my ability to occasionally feel presences or spirits of those whom had previously passed on began to spark inside me. When a feeling comes over me, I can’t shake it no matter how hard I try. It completely overwhelms my every thought. I can’t even sleep. My mind doesn’t shut down, but it is totally drained. Each time I have one of these experiences, it takes a major toll on me.
I haven’t been able to talk about this to anyone. Who would believe me? For instance, who would believe that I had a vividly clear glimpse of horrifying hell as I shook an attorney’s hand; I felt a mournful presence in a friend’s cottage that wouldn’t let me leave until I helped her; while driving past New York City, I felt an enormous death toll in store for the city weeks before the terror attack; when I awoke on Sept. 11th, I knew that was the day; I discovered the identity of the couple from heaven and what they wanted me to do; I sensed the stock market was going to fall drastically well before it had even started to decline; I knew Vice-President Gore should be President but would lose; and as I watched NBC News Correspondent David Bloom appear on television covering the war of Iraq, I felt he was going to die – not be killed, but die? The feelings I have concern small and major things, people close to me or those I only know through friends. Simply hearing, seeing, or touching a person or their possessions can trigger these inexplicable moments.
This very powerful emotional experience has definitely changed me. I am not afraid of death now since I have seen a glimpse of the amazing realm that lies beyond. As I stated in the beginning of my story – I am not a writer, but I hope that my words touch the hearts of those seeking hope, comfort, or purpose.
In my case, I don’t know if the doctors couldn’t see past a trauma I experienced or if women are more complex than men and can’t be diagnosed as easily. All I know is that I was dying, senselessly and needlessly, and no one was doing anything about it. To them, I was a picture of physical health that was being drained by post-traumatic stress. Deep inside, I felt there was more to it.
I told myself I would try one more doctor. That’s it. Then I would give up my fight for life if she found nothing wrong with me. Having to wait a couple months for the appointment was tough. A couple months here, there, and everywhere added up to years. Five years in my case. It would be five long years of trying to find out what was wrong with me. Unbelievable! Yet life’s everyday turmoil continued around me.
Beginning at the end of 1989, I struggled for every ounce of strength I had to get through selling our home to move out to the family farm that we purchased. My father-in-law wanted us to fix up the farm and make him proud. After we remodeled the farmhouse with our life’s savings, we suffered a major setback in 1990 when the farmhouse burnt to the ground. The only clothes that we had left were the ones we had on and those in the hamper at the empty house we were selling. Then in 1992, we suffered the loss of my father-in-law, after which, we began to unveil the truth about my mother-in-law. It was sheer determination that kept me alive with all the stress upon stress I endured during those five years.
At the appointment in March of 1994, the woman doctor did a thorough exam and felt everything looked good. I was told I would hear from her office when the results of the routine Pap smear came back. Since I had regular Pap smears and was told yet again that I was a picture of health, my family and I went ahead with our planned trip to Colorado.
While in Colorado, I grew weaker and weaker. I could feel the strength draining from my body. I barely managed to smile my way through the weekend. When we arrived home, our answering machine was full with messages from the doctor’s office. It was easy to hear the urgency in each message left.
When I called the office, I was told to come in right away. The doctor told me that the Pap smear indicated I needed further testing. I was assured that even if I had cervical cancer it could be easily cured with a cone biopsy. However, after further tests and the cone biopsy, she stated that the cancer was already in the late stage and had invaded my outer tissues and lymph nodes. At first she tried to scold me for not having regular exams that should have caught this cancer earlier, in which event, minor procedures would have cured it. When I reminded her that I did go to doctor after doctor and had Pap smear after Pap smear, she eased up on me. I could sense that she felt this cancer should never have gotten to this point. I agreed with her.
The doctor told me that I needed radical surgery immediately and that it could not wait. She stated that I would have a radical hysterectomy and removal of the affected lymph nodes. Since she never removed lymph nodes, another doctor would assist her. I was told that if I survived, once lymph nodes were removed, my lower body would swell until it could not swell any more. The pain from the skin being so swollen and tight could become unbearable. Before I even left the doctor’s office, the pre-surgery testing and surgery were scheduled for the following week.
Friends begged me to get another opinion, so I called a hospital in New York that had been recommended. After I provided my background information and diagnosis, they made an emergency appointment for me. At the appointment, I was basically told the same thing. Surgery was needed without further delay. I was told that I needed to have a radical hysterectomy, in which my uterus, cervix, and a major part of my vagina would be removed. I wouldn’t know till after the surgery if my ovaries were removed or not. That option depended on how everything looked during the operation. Lymph nodes from hip to hip and up under the rib cage would also be removed and tested to see how far the cancer had spread.
I couldn’t believe what was happening. I didn’t have time to think. Part of me felt relieved that after going to doctor after doctor for years, someone finally discovered that I was really sick. The other part of me wanted to cry when I remembered all the cruel things those doctors told me throughout those years. The most common remark was, “It’s all in your head”. Another was, “You women make me sick. You’re all afraid of getting older. It’s just your hormones changing.” They were so off base, but it never mattered what I said.
The doctor that made me feel the worst sat engrossed, using a ruler to draw lines with different colored markers on my chart. When I attempted to say I was there because I deeply sensed something was really wrong with me, he rudely and abruptly cut me off and said, “Did I tell you to speak? You will speak when I ask you to and not before.” When I started to say, “But-” he interrupted me, pointed his finger just inches from my face, and rudely said, “I didn’t tell you to speak.” I felt so bad that I almost gave up wanting to find out what was wrong with me.
During those five long years of being told over and over again that nothing was wrong with me besides stress, I knew something was killing my body. I felt it so strongly that I caught myself beginning to watch women at the stores to see if I could find someone that could finish raising my son and be a good wife to my husband when I died. My heart ached at the mere thought of not being able to be with them forever. To know I was right all along was dreadful. To think, I only had a few days to prepare myself and my family for the possibility that I might die from a cancer that could have, and should have, been stopped in its track early on. I felt numb, but not scared.
It was hard to put on my faithful smile, but I did, as I bought my twelve-year-old son’s Easter presents before my scheduled surgery. I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to do it again. The thought of not being there Easter morning to see his face light up as he opened his presents and searched for all the plastic eggs filled with money broke my heart. I didn’t know if the adorable little green suit and multi-colored tie that I purchased for him would be his Easter suit or the one he’d be wearing to my funeral.
With no time to think, I was talked into having the surgery in New York. The day of surgery came too fast. I undressed and got into the ugly hospital gowns. Then my father and husband waited nervously with me until I went down to surgery. As I was put onto the gurney, my lips quivered and my eyes filled with tears while I told them, possibly for the last time, that I loved them. I didn’t know if I’d ever see them again. When I awoke and realized that I made it through the surgery, I looked up toward the ceiling, closed my eyes and said, “Thank you Lord” under my breath. Then I began to feel tugging from the tubes that seemed to be sticking from me everywhere. They were down my nose, in my neck, in my spine, two on each side of my abdomen, in my hand, and, of course, I had the awful pee bag.
After a few days, the results of the lymph node testing revealed that one in every three nodes were cancerous and radiation treatment was strongly advised. On a less serious note, I discovered that I had developed pesky allergies. One was to the orange solution that they poured on my stomach and vagina in the operating room to help sterilize the area. The other was from simple plastic tape that covered the whole length of my spine and around my neck. It took the skin right off my body. In addition, the morphine began to give me terrible headaches, so it was stopped.
As for the two drain tubes that they put in on each side of my abdomen, I was told that they weren’t stitched tightly enough during the surgery. This caused my body fluid to leak profusely out around the tubes instead of into them. The fluid leaked out so fast that they had to tape big, thick pads around the tubes. Guess what kind of tape they used? That’s right, plastic tape that took even more skin off my body! I had bright red patches of raw skin all over me. The pads needed changed so often that the nurses told me to change them myself. After watching the one nurse drop an opened gauze pad on the sticky floor, bend down and pick it up, and then attempt to put it on my open wounds before I stopped her, I guess I didn’t mind having to put them on by myself. So I thought.
The following day I got up and awkwardly pushed the equipment that held my IV’s and monitors slowly down the hall for my daily exercise. On my way back to my room, I noticed the pads taped around my abdomen’s drain tubes were totally saturated from all the fluid leaking from my body. The fluid began running profusely down my legs and I couldn’t stop it. I went back to my room, climbed into bed, and attempted to lift my wet hospital gown to change the pads, but I was too weak. While I waited to see if my strength would come back, the fluid continued to soak my blanket and sheets. I felt weaker, so I pushed the call button for a nurse.
Patiently, I waited for a nurse to bring in a dry hospital gown, sheets, and a blanket to replace the soaked ones I was lying in. As I waited, I got colder and colder. My body began to tremble with chills. As the body fluid continued to leak out around the two tubes, I sensed something wasn’t right. I was so cold by now that my teeth began to chatter.
After about an hour, I buzzed the nurse again. The nurse rudely replied, “I’ll get there when I get there.” About an hour and a half later, the door to my room opened, and in bounded a nurse. She didn’t even look to see if anything was wrong as she threw the hospital gown, sheets, and blanket right onto my face and chest. As the nurse turned away to rush out, she rudely said, “I don’t have time for this. I’m having problems with my husband.” When the linens landed on me, something strange sort of click in my body. I began to gasp for air, but I couldn’t breathe. My body was too weak to lift my hand up to pull the linens off of my face. A tingling feeling came over my chilled shaken body. The tingling grew so loud, that the sound drowned out all of the hospital noises. I knew I was about to die. My last thought was that I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my son, husband, and family. Then everything was silent.
Next, I briefly was above the bed looking down. Just as I realized that was my lifeless body in the bed below, my thoughts were abruptly distracted. Suddenly, I was pulled into complete darkness. Amidst the total darkness, I smelled an indescribable odor. At about the same time, my fluid-soaked body felt coolness in the air. I remember wishing that I had a coat to wear to keep me warm.
Then I began to feel myself moving upward. As I was being pulled upward, I began to feel as if I was in a tunnel, an endless, pitch-black tunnel. The speed at which I rose began to increase, faster and faster. It seemed swifter than anything imaginable or possible. As I continued to speed upwards through the seemingly endless darkness, there were puffs of clouds brushing across my eyelids and cheeks. It felt nice, like cool dew. That’s when my eyes looked upward.
There I saw such a magnificently, wondrous light which was white and pure. At first it seemed very far away. One glance at this bright, splendid light made me feel safe, loved, and serene. I didn’t feel pain or sadness, just an overwhelming peaceful love that grew more intense the closer I got to it. This white light was extraordinarily bright. It was almost blinding. I felt myself squinting just so I could gaze at it. I looked away from the light for a second because it seemed intense enough to burn right through my eyes, yet it didn’t. Maybe the cool mist brushing across my face helped in some way. When I glanced away, all I saw was the vast blackness around me and below me, so I gazed back up toward the light and never looked down again. As I watched the light get closer and brighter, the sense of tranquil love grew stronger and stronger.
Suddenly, I was no longer accelerating upwards. While I still squinted from the extreme brightness of the light, my eyes began to adjust to it. I began to notice thick white puffs of clouds continuously moving about. A breeze from the moving clouds gently blew the lightweight, long, flowing garment that I was now wearing. I could also see that I was barefoot as I began to slowly walk amidst the clouds.
Before I knew it, I was gazing upon this magnificent gate that was gloriously glistening. I just stared with amazement at its beauty. Rays of prismatic light were bouncing off the exquisite gems in all directions. It was totally breathtaking. Since I always longed for a driveway gate back on the farm, I caught myself engulfed in trying to remember every astonishing detail about it. As I peered even closer, I watched as pearly gems sparkled radiantly in the light.
A remarkable peace drew me in beyond the gates. I felt so safe that fear never entered my thoughts. I began to squint real hard in attempt to see through the beaming light and continuously moving clouds, but I couldn’t. Then in the near distance toward the right, I got a glimmer of something, so I squinted even harder. The clouds seemed to part enough just to show a hint of a shadow of two people. It seemed to be a man with a woman standing by his side. I didn’t feel as if I knew them, but I felt as if they were waiting for me for a reason. Just as the clouds were about to thin out enough for me to see clearer, they abruptly thickened and closed up around the couple. All I could see again were the clouds passing by me in the light. I wondered why the clouds thickened up so fast just as I was about to see who was there.
At that same time, I realized there was someone right in front of me. The clouds also thickened around that shadow so I could not see him. There are no words to describe the incredibly intense love I felt, standing there in front of him. No one could ever imagine a love so powerfully strong. At that moment, it hit me. I was in heaven standing before our Lord. As I stood there before Him, I felt that He knew every detail of my soul. I felt dumb that I didn’t realize the gates I had passed through were the pearly gates until that moment. My eyes turned away for a second and looked down to my right. I didn’t know if the light was just so bright or if I felt unworthy of such wondrous love. It seemed as if He could hear my thoughts because I heard, “Fear not; for thou art worthy of my love.” As I heard those words, my throat grew tight and my eyes swelled with tears. I thought, “Are you sure?” With each question came an answer and reassurance. It seemed as if my whole life was reviewed and clarified in a flash.
If I could only choose one word to describe our Lord, it would have to be “Love”, an indisputable love. I don’t know how to explain it. I couldn’t see Him through the clouds and light, but I felt His love so deeply. He was right there in front of me, so close to me. I felt incredible love, power, and peace in His voice, but I don’t know if He actually spoke. It was as if we felt, heard, and responded to each other without the need to speak. I was told I had to go back; I wasn’t supposed to die when I did; and I had more work to do. In addition, I was told that I had to protect my husband and son from someone.
Just as I was about to ask more, it became dark again. While gasping for air, I realized I was back in the hospital bed. This time when my right arm reached up to pull the blanket, sheets, and hospital gowns off my face, it had the strength to pull them off. I could breathe. I began to hear the noises of the hospital and feel pain again. My body was shivering and my teeth were chattering uncontrollably. Once again, my body was extremely weak. My hospital gown and bed linens were still soaked. I sort of felt sad that I was back. When I was in heaven, there was no pain. My body was not all cut up. I didn’t have any tubes hanging from me. I was whole. I was strong. I was loved more than anyone could imagine. As I looked up to the heavens, I meekly nodded as if to say that I understood. Then I closed my eyes.
A while later the nurse came in. She walked over to my bed and nonchalantly said, “You’re right. You are soaked.” She went to change my hospital gown but realized the linens that she brought in and threw on me earlier were also wet by now, so she went to get more. As she was putting a dry hospital gown on me, she told me about her bad day and about the problems she was having with her husband. I was only half listening to her as she rambled on because I was remembering how I died because of the bad day she was having. I don’t believe I said a word while she was there. I had a thousand thoughts going through my head about my glorious time in heaven.
Now not only did my struggle for life begin again with the many medical complications that followed – especially the radiation therapy – but also my ability to occasionally feel presences or spirits of those whom had previously passed on began to spark inside me. When a feeling comes over me, I can’t shake it no matter how hard I try. It completely overwhelms my every thought. I can’t even sleep. My mind doesn’t shut down, but it is totally drained. Each time I have one of these experiences, it takes a major toll on me.
I haven’t been able to talk about this to anyone. Who would believe me? For instance, who would believe that I had a vividly clear glimpse of horrifying hell as I shook an attorney’s hand; I felt a mournful presence in a friend’s cottage that wouldn’t let me leave until I helped her; while driving past New York City, I felt an enormous death toll in store for the city weeks before the terror attack; when I awoke on Sept. 11th, I knew that was the day; I discovered the identity of the couple from heaven and what they wanted me to do; I sensed the stock market was going to fall drastically well before it had even started to decline; I knew Vice-President Gore should be President but would lose; and as I watched NBC News Correspondent David Bloom appear on television covering the war of Iraq, I felt he was going to die – not be killed, but die? The feelings I have concern small and major things, people close to me or those I only know through friends. Simply hearing, seeing, or touching a person or their possessions can trigger these inexplicable moments.
This very powerful emotional experience has definitely changed me. I am not afraid of death now since I have seen a glimpse of the amazing realm that lies beyond. As I stated in the beginning of my story – I am not a writer, but I hope that my words touch the hearts of those seeking hope, comfort, or purpose.
