The Aftermath of The Afterlife: Part 1
Thank you so much for all the love and support you've sent my way since the release of My White Light Moment. I know I left you all in suspense with that cliff hanger, but honestly, there is sooooo much to my story that it's hard to know when to stop. Waking up from that White Light Moment wasn't fun. My life was never going to be the same. Dealing with the physical repercussions of the events that took place in that operating room have also changed my life forever.
When I woke up the next day, my Mother stood staring out of the hospital room window. It felt as if I were looking in on her from another world. She looked tired and worried. I could feel she was scared. I spoke her name but nothing came out. I tried to move and couldn't. I cleared my throat and felt such excruciating pain that I stopped trying. The grunts and moans were enough movement to get my Mother's attention.
She quickly rushed to my side, frantically asking me if I was okay. She swiped my hair back off my face and kissed my forehead like she was never going to see me again. She screamed for the nurses and quickly ran out of my room to get help. I could hear her screaming down the hallway, "HELP! She's awake! She's awake! I need help!"
The nurses quickly rushed into the room and tried to keep me calm as they injected my IV with more meds. Suddenly everything was dark.
The next time I woke up, it was as if I was on Grey's Anatomy. The scene where the patient wakes up and all the doctors are standing over them telling them how lucky they were to be alive.
Everything went back to black.
When I woke up the next time, I was able to speak. I had a "smelly cat sexy voice" like Phoebe off of Friends. It wasn't my normal voice, but it worked well enough to ask some questions. I asked the nurses who were standing over me uncovering my blankets to change my dressings what had happened. They explained to me that my veins and airways had collapsed in surgery and alarmed a CODE BLUE. They retracted the tube from my airway, and tried to run it through my nose to intubate, but failed. They ended up using excessive force to get a tube down my throat and ended up damaging my vocal chords, and breaking some teeth in the process. They had to run all my IVs and monitors to the opposite side of my body where the veins were still open, and the doctors had to cauterize the hemorrhage in my abdomen where they had removed my baby, in order to close my ports in preparation for resuscitation.
Not really sure how to respond to all that information, I just nodded my head. They took my last blanket off my to reach my dressings and I was immediately traumatized from what I saw. My body was black and blue, swollen and bloody. I was not the very pale-skinned person that I normally am. I was beaten and bruised beyond any type of recognition.
My heart monitor alarm went off and then I was quickly injected with more meds as I was to beginning to freak out. I was sent back to the darkness.
After all was said and done, I was in the hospital for over 10 days; most of those were spent in a drug induced coma to help the healing process. I had gone through 2 emergency surgeries, 3 blood transfusions, I was resuscitated after my airways and veins collapsed on the table. I sustained injuries from the struggle to incubate, from my teeth being cracked by the tools they use to stick the tube down your throat, to a damaged sinus cavity and vocal cords from a forceful intubation.
I suffered permanent nerve damage from them retracting their tools in my abdomen in a hurry. They nicked a nerve bundle from my spine that runs down my right leg. I had to endure 6 months of physiotherapy to walk again. Over 600 hours of absolute torture just to be able to walk unassisted. I gained over 100 pounds in 6 months from a blood disorder that I received from the blood transfusions, and now have such a compromised immune system that eating normal foods makes me sick.
The first year after the trauma was spent going to doctor appointments and seeing specialist after specialist. It was a horrible time in my life. I also suffered some memory issues. The Doctors thought it was due to having such a traumatizing thing happen to me, but even to this day, I'm still not so sure about that. It was as if everyone and everything was new to me. I had no clue who my boyfriend (now ex boyfriend) was, or why I would even choose to be with him in the first place.
I didn't recognize my own family and had to rebuild a new relationship with each of them. I also didn't recognize my own house and decor. I had no clue why I would have ever chosen those curtains!
This trauma allowed me to see some of the greatest doctors in town. It took many years to get a full diagnosis. Medically, I was diagnosed with endocrine issues, adrenal issues, neuropathy & CRPS (a degenerative nerve disorder), and suspected for lupus and/or MS. I still have a benign pituitary brain tumour in my head that flares up causing more health issues in my body. My immune system is so overactive that I have a reaction to anything that gets put into my body. I can no longer tolerate scents and fragrances, foods and products that I'd used my whole life. Now it seemed like everything was causing me to be sick.
I ended up having to sell my house and car - along with anything else that was of value - shortly after getting out of the hospital, as I was now fully disabled. I was unable to work and couldn't keep up with the lifestyle I had previously established. No one plans to be disabled at 24 due to trying to have a family. I had no medical benefits or insurance coverage and was forced to downsize my life.
Being grateful for a second chance at life was really hard throughout these times. I had spent a lot of time thinking about WHY I was spared a second chance. I thought of all the people out in the world that want to live so badly that they'd do anything just to continue on, and they don't get the chance to. But here I was, not wanting to be alive and having to deal with the aftermath of a horrible situation.
Everyone you hear about having a near death experience is always so grateful to be alive, and so happy and beyond blessed to be able to continue living. I didn't get it. I just didn't feel that way. I felt the weight of the world, the sadness, the heaviness of life. I felt pain constantly throughout my body. I didn't have any fight left in me but yet, I was spared my life. I should have felt grateful. The fact that I didn't feel grateful made me feel bad.
I just couldn't understand how anyone, if they had the same white light experience that I had, felt that kind of warm, loving, oneness, and to see that beautiful indescribable light like I did, how they could be happy coming back here. This world, although has its beauty, is nothing compared to what I saw. It's not even comparable. Even those rare moments in life when you experience TRUE beauty, a sunset, sunrise, true love; nothing even compares to the breathtaking beauty of that light; that love; that feeling of being at peace. The feeling of being home. Your soul's TRUE home.
These other people who are so happy to be alive, who have seen THAT light, couldn't have seen the same beautiful light I had. If they did, they would be here longing to go home; back into that light, as I do, every single day of my life. Don't get me wrong, I do my best to be happy and try to create a life for myself of gratitude and positivity despite the many horrible challenges I face on a daily basis. But in my heart of hearts, I know I'm here doing what I have to do, and once I've completed my mission, I too, will get to go home.
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