Posted on 03/03/2015 4:38:20 PM PST by Mrs. Don-o
I've been discharged from Rehab and am now home. "Going slow, but still going." Thank you all for about a million prayers.
What follows is my recollection --- or reflection --- or maybe raving --- about one thing I experienced while in critical condition.
------------------------------Raving-----------------------------------
“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” Mark Twain
Hello, friends, this will have been your first and probably your last communication from me until Christ our God grants a better body/brain recovery. But I wanted to write what I can before it all disappears down the Memory Hole.
Collapsed on Jan 19, septic shock from UTI. EMT's say BP fell to something like 40. Dead.
Cardiac arrest. And again. And again. Dead, dead, dead.
No bright tunnel of light, no golden escalator with old Fleetwood Mac mix tapes, no exclusive book and movie rights. I even forgot that I'd promised, if I were ever in dramatic straits, to ask for the intercession of Elizabeth Anscombe (1919-2001). A giantess in the field of philosophy and one of God's noblewomen, she
just needs a teeny-tiny documentable miracle in order to be beatified. I even blew THAT. I wasn't only nearly dead, I was really most sincerely dead.
Teams of people, however, were darting me with epis and drilling holes in my face, neck and groin to pump in corpse-warmer concoctions faster than my baffled body could tolerate them. They forced the issue, Lord love 'em all. I was on a ventilator for sixteen days.
Prayer groups started double and triple teaming me, which opened up spaces even in the Enemy's territory where grace could operate. Dozens of St Mary's people came tumbling into the Med Center ICU with their hand-knotted rosaries and their Divine Mercy prayers, with sweet trust bordering on obstinacy.
Was it before or after my airway collapsed that a Greek Orthodox priest friend anointed me with sweet oil from a myrrh-bearing icon of St. Anne? Was it before the Two Specialists started staring at the CT and MRI results and muttering “Look at the size of that obstruction. Christ Almighty, what a mess!”--- that my pastor came and gave me the precious Blood of God –- a transfusion from the veins of Jesus Christ Our Lord?
Lord have mercy 12 x. Lord have mercy 40 x. Lord have mercy Women's Plus Size XXL with elastic waistband.
Was it before or after I started hallucinating, that the “Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, Chant-o-Matic” was being dialed up to Max right there in the Med Center atrium? Yes, dearest Baptist friends, Catholics do chant. (And OK, Orthodox buddies, we do mumble.) Anyway, a skeptical world could see how Catholics come fully armed and ready to rumble.
If you're laughing a bit, here's where it stops.
I was given a vision of evil.
I am not writing this because I want you to think, “Oh woo-woo, Mrs Wiley must be holy, she has these Mystical Experiences TM” or even (closer to the truth) “Is there nothing this proud, ignorant, hypocritical woman will not say for 15 minutes of fame?” I haven't the strength in my shaking hands to waste on dubious claims of “God told me,” nor breath in my body to argue about these things, nor (this is the important point) do I understand what I saw. God (!) told (!) me (!), “You're not going to understand but zero-point-one percent of this,” and behold, all-y'all, the fact is, I don't understand it.
I saw evil.
I saw the mouth of evil.
I know that, trembling hands or not, I'll have to explain about the “mouth,” –- though I can't. But I'll try.
It was not large. It was about an inch square, no bigger than a typical chessboard square. It was not a lewd, loose-lipped, lolling Miley Cyrus mouth, nor a thin-lipped Atheist Medical Ethicist mouth with moustache attached, like a cheap movie Mephistopheles.
In fact, there was no face attached. It was a mouth. It had one single snaggle tooth, barbed and recurved on itself like the kind of fish hook that, when the fool fish tries to back off, just digs in deeper. On the tip of the snaggle tooth was a single drop of green venom sufficient, I thought, to destroy life on all inhabited planets.
And the mouth was inside-out.
How you can tell a “mouth” is "inside-out" I do not know, except that it seems I read somewhere about some odious marine parasite that chomps down on some part of its intended victim and then turns itself inside-out, so that the victim is enveloped and slowly digested by the writhing, now-exterior intestines.
Holiness? Heaven? People speak of near-death experiences glowing with consolation and beatitude; my NDE was more involved with Homicide and Hell.
On the way from the CT scan unit to the ICU I had an RN transporting me whom I know only slightly, but who has always been---- shall we say ---- a challenge to my Faith-Hope-Charity. She is brisk, paper-rattling and officious, a sort of pointillist-Catholic as it happens, and I was already running almost bone-dry in the Theological Virtue department.
She got passive-aggressive with me when I was experiencing anguish and terror. She had disputed with me for hours, contemptuously, dismissively, over whether I could have a freaking mouth swab.
Not that I could speak much beyond “ungh, ungh.” But I could point to the mouth swabs which were an inch beyond my reach, and point to my mouth where everything was stuck together like Crazy Glue, and make the classic Praying Hands gesture, and she would say, “You had swab 32 minutes ago, thang Q!” and then walk away.
I couldn't make out her accent but she had evidently was trained someplace where they told her that it is the ultimate in American professional courtesy to end every sentence with “Thank you,” regardless of context. Thus:
“Do NOT bite tongue, thang Q!”
“Do NOT move finger, thang Q!”
“Stop BREATHING, thang Q!”
“You are NOT thirsty. You had swab 44 minutes ago, thang Q!”
He face right next to mine (and she smelled like Citrusy-Fresh Floor Disinfectant) “You are not thirsty. You had swab only 55 minutes ago, thang Q!”
I was left sweltering in my own sweat for hours in a claustrophobic underground corridor between the CT unit and the ICU. "Nurse DeeDee" attempted no gesture of consolation, offered nothing, disappeared for hours without explanation, would pop back round the corner with,
“I SAID, Do not bite tongue, thang Q!”
Bad nurse. Nurse Ratched.
Motto: Service to Subhumanity.
DeeDee, Destroyer of Worlds.
If I had a choice between Jesus Christ or a filet knife, I would have chosen the knife. I'm sure I could have done a satisfactory amount of damage with it. If I had a choice between Jesus Christ or pushing this despicable woman through a window, my dying words would have been, “Ah, lovely bloody plate glass.”
Then I saw the Mouth of Evil open up to swallow me and the entire world. And the entire world. And I heard an intense warning:
“Forgive her.”
“I can't, Lord. Can't You see my mind is disintegrating?”
“Forgive her.”
“Are YOU freaking crazy, too? I'm being destroyed by this stupid disease and I'm laying in this stupid lithotomy position at the mercy of this stupid odious DeeDee, my mind is being shattered under the hammer-blows of pain and fear. I can't chose anything, can't calculate anything, can't desire anything ...”
“I didn't say anything about 'Calculate.'”
“I can't forgive her.”
“Of course you can't. Your pulmonary, cardiac and renal functions are failing. Your brain function is disintegrating. YOU can't forgive her. How right you are. Ask Me to forgive her.”
“How long do I have to decide?”
“You moron! There is no more time! Do it now!”
I was well and truly freaked.
“Oh, Dear Lord...?”
“Yes?”
“Dear Lord, forgive DeeDee...”
“And?”
“And wash away her iniquities, or whatever it is You do...”
“And?”
“And don't hold her offenses against her. And help her to become the kind of RN and the kind of good Catholic woman she ought to be.” There's a whole lot more I could say but I'm already past my 0.1% comprehension and well into the realm of Memory Remodeling and Confabulation (Google it.) Thank you all so much for your prayers. The infected kidney stone? It disappeared. Gone, baby, gone.
Forgive your DeeDee's.
And as for Servant of God Elizabeth Anscombe? Thank you, old girl, thank you.
The people who crucified Jesus didn't ask for it either and He prayed, *Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.*
She did the right thing.
Welcome home.
I know how good it is to come home after an experience like that.
I’ll be continuing to pray for you and a speedy recovery.
Welcome back!
Notre Père qui es aux cieux,
Que ton Nom soit sanctifié, que ton règne vienne,
Que ta volonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel.
Donne-nous aujourd'hui notre pain de ce jour.
Pardonne-nous nos offenses, comme nous pardonnons aussi à ceux qui nous ont offensés.
Et ne nous soumets pas à la tentation, mais délivre-nous du mal.
Car c’est à Toi qu’appartiennent le règne, la puissance et la gloire,
pour les siècles des siècles. Amen
Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâces,
le Seigneur est avec vous, vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes,
et Jésus le fruit de vos entrailles est béni.
Sainte Marie, Mère de Dieu, priez pour nous pauvres pécheurs,
maintenant, et à l'heure de notre mort. Ainsi-soit-il.
Garde la Foi, mes amis! Nous nous sommes les sauveurs de la République! Maintenant et Toujours!
(Keep the Faith, my friends! We are the saviors of the Republic! Now and Forever!)
LonePalm, le Républicain du verre cassé (The Broken Glass Republican)
Ever see “A Glimpse of Eternity” (NDE) - the best one (no crazy stuff and well done) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqhGRD25h2A
Ian McCormack’s incredible true story who had box jellyfish shock and had after-death experience.
Welcome back! Good to hear you’re on the mend.
God Bless
I'll work on it. Then 40 years from now, you can show The Mrs. Don-o Hospital to the great-great grandchildren.
God bless you
For thein is the power, and the glory, forever.
Amen.
But God asked her to. Therefore...
I am gobsmacked to learn that you were so ill and somehow it escaped my notice — was there an earlier thread? I couldn’t pray for you then, but I surely can now. I’m so relieved that you were spared, and also that a person of your talent for articulation has been given a sign. I know you will ponder it for years to come, and will use it for the good. May God bless you profoundly not only with Divine health, but also with Divine wisdom and guidance, now and for the rest of your life.
Yes, though I certainly know that praying to created beings in Heaven is not in Scripture, or Scriptural, and hope all your faith is in the Lord Jesus to save you on His account, and thus serve Him out of gratitude.
But we want the best for you now also.
We bless Thee O Lord, our Healer and Savior, and we adore Thee.
With the saints in Heaven we pray, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen.
Your writing is brilliant and a joy to read, even in that scary, intense story.
I’m glad He saved you and I hope you stay healthy and write a book or two!
What a happy way to finish my day,welcome back!! I was getting pretty worried since your postings were few and far between and I didn’t want to question too much for fear I would learn that you weren’t progressing as I had hoped. But you were probably using all energies to recover your health. So glad your back home and with us!! I just thanked God for your return!!
Glad to hear you’re back home and on the mend. You’ve been through quite enough for one person lately :-)
Welcome back.
2) Sincere thanksgiving you have come back and shared this.
3) Another confession. Back in my younger days I'd read C.S. Lewis's God in the Dock and only knew Anscombe as the one who defeated Lewis in a debate -- the account I read said that when they asked her what happened, she leaned back, *lit up a cigar*, and said, "I won."
Little did I know then (I was Protestant) that she was in fact a devout Catholic, with *five* children...
4) This vision of yours is dovetailing with some other reading I am doing (Bede's A History of the English Church and People) in which others have returned from near death preaching the necessity for repentance.
Again, prayers will start for you and include thanksgiving.
Jesus on the cross, and St. Stephen whilst being stoned, serve as counterexamples to your contention.
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