It is late July 2017. As I sit in the hospital bed, I try to still my mind and make sense of everything which has just happened. I want to believe, I want to imagine that this has all been a bad dream. These things don't happen. These things didn't just happen to me...did they?
The previous day, my breathing is fast and ragged. My doctor is convinced the only way to slow down my breathing is to give me morphine. However, I am terribly allergic to morphine and can go into anaphylatic shock. The doctor dismisses my concerns about morphine and tells me I am just being paranoid. I have been hospitalized in the ICU for many days. My body is overwhelmed with intense fatigue. Around midnight, I fall asleep.
During the early morning hours, my nurse pushes morphine through my IV. Almost immediately, I am jolted into a terrifying tailspin. My heart races, I develop extreme shortness of breath, my throat clamps down hard around my trach tube, and it feels as though my trachea is determined to cut off my air supply. (For once in my life, I am praising God for having a trach tube. I am pretty sure if I did not have this piece of plastic in my throat I would have died when my trachea swelled up.) My body breaks out in hives, my tongue suddenly swells in size, and fear and anxiety overload my senses. It feels as though the end of my life is a few short seconds away.
Oddly, the medical staff responds slowly to my reaction. My nurse informs my doctor about my intense symptoms. The doctor orders a mega dose of Ativan because this is only an anxiety attack. The nurse returns to my room and pushes a syringe full of Ativan into my IV. Very quickly, my heart begins to beat slower and slower; my breathing slows down to such a point that it feels as though I am struggling, gasping to breathe. Even though I am on a ventilator, it feels as though my body is straining with all its might to take a breath. As the medicine starts to exert its full strength, I feel my mind being pulled into slumberland. I fight hard to stay conscious. I know I cannot go to sleep. I know I must remain vigilant to ensure nothing else bad happens.
As if in a dream, I hear my doctor talking right outside my door. The words "drug-induced coma" and "disconnect her from her vent" drift through my partially open door. I tell myself I must be mishearing the doctor. These words cannot be true. A short time later, my nurse is in my room with an IV bag full of some medicine. I am too drugged from the Ativan to speak or move. The nurse hooks up the new IV and starts infusing it into my IV line. The nurse then leaves my room. Almost instantly, I feel the effect of the drug—I feel my mind and body being forcefully pulled into the black darkness.
In a panic, I cry out to God, "LORD! HELP! This doctor is trying to kill me! She is trying to drug me and then disconnect me from my ventilator. PLEASE HELP ME!!!" A very gentle voice replies, "Stop your IV." Using all my strength, I turn my head to look at the IV pump. I see the power button. "Yes," I think, "I will turn off the power." Employing every ounce of energy available, I fight hard through the tremendous heaviness which plagues my mind and body to sit up in bed. My hands then clumsily try to find the power button on the IV pump. A stern voice replies, "NO! Do not turn off the power. They will notice your IV is turned off. Pause the machine." As I look at the machine, I reply, "But how!?" Very slowly, I receive instructions on how to go through the machine settings to put the IV on pause. The lights on the machine stay illuminated; the machine looks as if it is still pumping the IV drug into my system, but no medicine is actually being delivered into my IV. Engulfed with extreme exhaustion, I allow my body to collapse back on to the bed. The gentle voice then says, "Clamp your IV line just in case they try to start the IV pump again." Obediently, I use the last of my energy to click the plastic clamp closed across my IV line. I then offer up a silent praise to God for His assistance.
(Side note: For over 12 hours, no one notices my IV is paused. When the night crew discovers my IV is on pause, they decide there must have been orders for the IV to have been turned off during the day. They turn off the IV pump and disconnect my IV line from the machine. Another Divine miracle!)
No sooner than having completed all these tasks, my mom walks into my hospital room. Relief radiates through my body. I am safe. My mom will now protect me from any harm. I cannot speak; I cannot move. My mom is immediately concerned about my current state of health. I cannot respond to her worries. She sits down and patiently waits. I lose consciousness.
(Link to Part Two click here)
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