(Ch. 20 of my story of how I became deaf…)

Photo by: “Mike”

The respirator was breathing for me and I remember feeling a tremendous pressure on my chest. I was afraid and kept trying to cry out to people, ‘Help me! Help me! I can’t breathe!’ But, I had tubes in my throat and couldn’t talk. The pressure on my chest came from the backed up body fluid, which was a result of my kidney failure. The fluid was pushing my lungs upward and squishing my heart. I literally felt the breath of life being squeezed right out of me. It was my darkest night.

Photo by: hobvias sudoneighm

There were slow pulsating vibrations coming from some machine nearby - swoosh-thunk… swoosh-thunk… It’s rhythm like the growing suspense music in a movie thriller. As I looked around, I could vaguely see the air bags bellow routinely up and down. There were a few doctors and nurses in the room talking, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Everyone seemed softly outlined and soft-spoken. I wondered why they were all whispering.

Dr. Keller came and sat next to me in a chair. He was monitoring the respirator. He looked tired, and his regular charming, toothy smile was gone. I could see him point to the machine, and then to the tubes in my mouth, and I could feel my chest move up and down at the respirator’s will, but I didn’t understand what he was saying. I imagined he was trying to explain the purpose of the machine that was rhythmically pumping air into my lungs in long, slow puffs, but I couldn’t focus well or hear Dr. Keller over the loud ringing in my ears.

I was scared and my body felt out of my control. I was in another world, a stranger in a strange land, a dweller at the threshold. This was the night I was closest to dying.

Photo by: “Honest”

In my delirium, I kept thinking that the tubes from the respirator were preventing me from breathing. I made several feeble attempts to pull them out before the nurses bound my wrists to the bed railings. I was furious at this, and tried to break free. I even tried to lift my feet toward my mouth so that I could pull the tubes away with my toes. Before I knew it, they had wrapped my legs with a sheet and tucked it in so tight that I was unable to move them. I became very frightened, and in my confusion I believed these doctors and nurses were trying to hurt me. But in reality, they were doing everything they could to keep me alive.

Photo by: Becka Spence

I looked around for an ally. I needed someone on my side, but recognized no one. As I silently continued to cry for help, a crystal-clear voice resonated within me.

Photo by: Timmy Andrew

I glanced up behind the blank faces in the room, and at the foot of my bed, I saw a wooden crucifix hanging there on the wall. While I stared at the cross, the lights in my room seemed to turn warm and low, as if candles lighted the place. As I continued to focus on that cross, my body began to give up its fight. Finally, I said to myself, ‘It’s okay. This is my cross. That cross is mine.’

We always had a crucifix hanging somewhere on our walls at home. I had one hanging over my bed for many years as a child, and for some reason, I believed this cross in front of me now belonged to me. The cross there wasn’t really mine. There were crucifixes hanging in all the rooms at St. Agnes Hospital, but it made me feel like I was home.

Then the voice spoke clearly to me again.

Photo by: Jennie”

At this, I completely relaxed, and was acutely aware that I no longer felt fear or pain. I looked around me and the room was filled with a soft, glowing light. I don’t know if there were any medical staff still around me. If they were, I couldn’t see them. I could only see myself lying there alone in the hospital bed. It was as though I was seeing myself through someone else’s eyes. I looked young and soft and golden.

Photo by: “Dave”

I strongly sensed Angels were with me then, and I felt comfort and peace. Then, I gently drifted off in a peaceful slumber.

(Footnote: Don’t give up on the story yet. It has been important for me to share what life was like before I became deaf so that people understand the significant transition that occurred when I became deaf — a transformation I not only understand and accept, but also celebrate! Keep on reading! These middle chapters entitled: Deaf or Death tell the dramatic story of the illness that took my hearing. Keep reading! More coming soon…)

Posted by LaRonda on Tuesday, July 24th, 2007 at 5:00 am.