December 6, 2016
Each step of the way on the road to recovery from brain surgery has been intimidating. Not once did I feel “ready” for the next step, but it was taken regardless. Mentally, I was convinced I had to have several more days in the hospital or at least until they got the pain under better control. After being reassured of further assistance in this department, I was happy to go back to my familiar surroundings.
The drive home proved to be challenging in itself. We had a solid hour of driving with every bump being felt. I improvised by rolling up a sweatshirt and wrapping it around my neck for added support. This bought me a little more time, but I was fully fatigued when we reached home again.
I was amazed at how much my husband, Joel, and I slept within the next couple of days. No replacement can be found to have the serenity of our own place. No more oxygen sensors going off every moment I dozed off to sleep. No roommates snoring or complaining. (I admit, I had my share of moaning and crying too. Sorry!) No more people walking past you every 15 minutes. Finally, my body can start some serious repairing of my skull and brain areas. I was encouraged to know I made it to this point finally, though not out of the woods yet.
While in the hospital, I often had to remind myself when I woke up that the surgery was already done and I didn’t have to go through it again any time soon. However once I got home, my dream and thought life dramatically changed.
Within the first half hour of being home, I fell asleep and had a nightmare. I never had this type of nightmare before and it seemed the scenario could have been real. My mind gave me the image of a German Shepard dog that had its teeth locked around my neck and head with my ear in its mouth. Instead of hearing help coming, I heard muffled voices through the dog’s mouth, reprimands to me for interacting with the animal. I thought I was going to die with no one to come rescue me. I can only attribute this dream to coming off of some narcotics.
A few days later, I had a weird dream that a catholic priest in a very traditional black cape, hat, and outfit was by my bedside and asked if I wanted to receive my last rights. I remember thinking in my dream how a person must feel when a priest comes in and says that to him or her. The reality of the true possibility of dying must be eminent for that to happen. That person has to face the true reality of death at that moment, regardless of the potential for recovery. Boy, I didn’t believe I was in that bad of a condition. I told him I did not need to. He asked me, “How can you be sure if you would go to Heaven then?”
I remember responding respectfully to him by saying, “I do know for sure I am going to Heaven. The Bible says, ‘If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.’” I take “Lord” to mean that Jesus’s desires and wishes are alive and in charge of what I need to be doing. “Believe” means I am willing to take action on the knowledge that Jesus is physically raised from the dead and will come back again to judge and make everything right again. Then in the dream, the priest took to a kneeling position beside my bed and just prayed for me instead. I thought I started waking up and felt someone sit on the opposite edge of my bed, but no one was there. Shortly after, I woke up for real.
I am thankful I have a good prognosis for pulling through this risky surgery as long as I stay clear from infection. Within my dream-life, I took a short look at the potential of death. This is so minimal to what so many other people had to come to terms with in real life, including my nephew who fought leukemia. I know that as a young child he was able to trust Jesus, believe, and is living joyously forever now with Him. Simple enough for a child to understand, and yet hard enough for an adult to accept. Do you believe? Check out http://www.twowaystolive.com for more information.
Until we meet again,