Near Death Experience

I suppose I've come close to dying several times, mostly in auto accidents; the most recent of which is the source of the pain which in turn inspired this blog. But without a doubt, my closest encounter with the Reaper came just a couple of weeks ago. As I mentioned in a previous missive, I had over a number of years acquired a very unhealthy habit of mixing alcohol and prescription medications in order to sleep. (The list of medications is long, and has varied greatly over the years. I'll go into detail at some point.) I had to drive a long ways to a funeral, and my back was screaming the whole way. Evidently the combination and/or quantity of medications I was taking in the days leading up to the trip caused my kidneys to shut down.

I had passed out in a hotel bathroom. My wife and daughters found me and called for an ambulance. I remember none of this -- one minute I am at a post-funeral reception, the next I am in an emergency room, surrounded by doctors. I am asked the date. I don't know. I'm asked the month. I don't know. I'm asked what holiday we just celebrated. I don't know. (The answer was Easter, which I probably would have remembered if my kids were 15 years younger.) I'm asked who the president is. I'm not sure about this one so I guess, I don't remember who. Wrong. "He's out of it," one of the docs says, helpfully.

It should be noted that I am a lousy ER patient. I do not cotton to having tubes inserted into or wires affixed onto my person by total strangers, particularly when their purpose is not explained to me (or if I am incapable of understanding said purpose). So I will gleefully rip out any tubes and wires I find attached to me. Most likely the ER docs knock me out just to keep me from doing this, and I don't blame them. It's also worth pointing out that I'm of the red-headed variety which studies have shown is more resistant to emergency-room sedation. So I'm just a pain in the ass to doctors, nuff said.

Since I'm out of my mind at this point, what follows now is my own highly subjective account of events, interspersed with occasional facts as I subsequently learned them from sane human beings (e.g. doctors, family members). The latter will be indicated in italics to avoid unnecessary verbosity. Finally, I don't know in what order the following events occurred.

At some point I became aware of the TV in the room, which at first was just noise but gradually took on ominous overtones, as if the TV was some sort of portal into my subconscious. I tried redirecting the TV/portal toward something benign, like sports, but having no idea how to operate the remote in my hand it was futile.

It is some time after the 20-questions period. The docs are around me. I am saying something, answering a question perhaps, and time just slows down, then stops. Oh fuck, I think, I am "locked in," and will be like this the rest of my life! The docs scurry about, but I'm as helpless as a newborn. This was probably the effect of medication and/or withdrawal. 

I awaken to the sight of a familiar nurse, who is feeding me ice chips. "Where am I?" I say. She laughs. "That's better than 'Whaa guh huh?" I feel like half my brain is thawing out. "Those were some good drugs," I say. "Yep," she says, paging one of the docs. "Where are you?" "Hospital?" "What month is it?" "April?" "Good," and I get more ice chips. My brain is almost thawed out. I am certain that they have synthesized a brand-new drug to bring locked-in people like me out of their locked-inness. Actually it was probably just a jolt of   Narcan.

I again wake up. It's night. My bed inflates, and the cover of the mattress is red. I worry that I am bleeding. A doc, or maybe a male nurse, comes in. I can't recall what he says, but the message is that because I have combined drugs and alcohol, I will be in this bed the rest of my life. Obviously this is untrue, but the doctors did not know about my drinking early on. I went through alcohol withdrawal (DTs and all) which could account for any of the hallucinatory experiences.

There's more, but I'm tired. It happens a lot.