Close to Nowhere

I almost died a couple weeks ago. Seriously.

I’ve had bronchitis and other lung problems most of my life. Gradually, I’ve developed COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease). And I admit I have never tried as hard as I could to take care of my lungs.

No surprise when I had pneumonia again recently. It was bad enough this time that I had to go to the emergency room at the new Baptist hospital in Oxford. My friend Jane drove me and stayed until they admitted me to the hospital. I was surprised that they stuck me in the step-down unit.

I stayed in the hospital a little over a week. Daughter Dana brought me home and left me in the care of son Kris.

The very next day I went into my sewing room and sat down. And I couldn’t breathe. No air was coming in my lungs at all. Kris realized something was wrong, and called Dana. As soon as she got there, she called an ambulance.

I don’t remember much after that for a while. I heard them say they were sending me to ICU. Later, I heard my brother Dennis talking and couldn’t figure out why. He kept trying to talk to me and eventually they took a mask off my face so I could talk to him. The mask was blowing air in my face and when they took it off, they immediately put an oxygen line on.

Dennis was there and my niece Sister was there from Nashville, Tenn. Kris was there and so were youngest granddaughter Remy and her husband Mitch (that still sounds weird; she should still be 12). I couldn’t figure out all the fuss until they told me I’d had acute pulmonary failure and everyone was there because it had been uncertain if I was going to make it or not.

I’ve read and heard about many near-death experiences. I didn’t have one. I didn’t see the face of God. I didn’t see Heaven. All I remember is my brother Dennis talking to me.

I’ve had time to think about things now and realize God did show up. He was there in the kind hands of the nurses who fed me because I didn’t have the strength to lift a spoon. He sent cousin Al Dyer to pray with me when I was scared. He sent my preacher and his wife with comfort and prayer.

Now that I’m home and anticipating returning to work very soon, I see God everywhere – in the Christmas tree oldest granddaughter Merideth put up and the house scrubbing that Sister, Dana, Mere and the rest did when they couldn’t do anything else.

Mostly, I see the hand of God in my son Kris, who is taking care of me. Kris was born with spina bifada and is in a wheelchair now. And he’s cooking for me and cleaning and fussing. He barely lets me out of his sight, in case I stop breathing again.

I’m dragging an oxygen converter around with me at home, and I’m waiting on delivery of a small, portable one that I can take out of the house. I’ll be on oxygen the rest of my life and with every breath I’m taking I’m thanking God for that breath and the fact that there is a rest of my life.