This is part 2 of a 2 part series. Read part 1 here: The Night I Died: The Whole Story, Part 1
The medic closest to my ear on that night I died apologized for the hospital. It had a bad reputation and, although the closest hospital is mandated in cases of near death, I could tell he didn’t feel good about taking me there. What I remember most about that emergency room is the heated blankets. With very little blood left to warm my body I was freezing cold and those blankets were nirvana.
They hooked me up to an IV and gave me lots of fluids. I later learned it takes the system awhile to register a massive bleed and, when fluids fill the veins, it gives the body a false sense of blood. So I was revived to a degree.
The doctor was busy that night and disregarded my account of major blood loss. He told me when people see any amount of blood it frightens them and they think it’s more than it really is. He diagnosed food poisoning and ordered me released.
This is where my first nurse angel came in. She refused to send me home. She stood outside my door and fought with that doctor, saying I couldn’t sit up without fainting and she was not checking me out. She won and I stayed.
At the shift change the doctor, once again, ordered me out and this is when my second nurse angel showed herself. She was helping me into the bathrobe I’d arrived in because I couldn’t do it myself and said, “Honey, this doesn’t seem right. Promise me you’ll call your doctor when you get home.”
The delayed check out saved my life because, had I left the hospital in the early morning hours I would have called a cab, not a friend, and I would have gone home to my bed and died. I was still bleeding internally and wasn’t thinking clearly.
When my friend, Rachel, arrived and found me colorless and lying on a bench in the waiting room because I couldn’t sit up, she was very concerned. And this is how the second nurse was life-saving: I told Rachel what she’d said so we went home and called my doctor. I never would have made that call without Rachel nor thought of it without that nurse.
My GP had a small family practice and her receptionist was sharp. She told me to come in immediately. In the meantime my doctor had the hospital fax the night’s tests to her. On arrival I was ushered into her office where blood was drawn. Comparing these results with the hospital’s tests showed her I was still bleeding. Unbeknownst to me she approached Rachel in the lobby and said, “Jeane is dying. There’s no time for an ambulance. Can you get her to Swedish or should I have one of my staff do it?” Rachel drove me, white knuckled, to the hospital.
I’d never been in the hospital before and I’d always thought, once there, all suffering ended. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I don’t know how she swung it with the other staff and patients, but my third nurse angel was there for me that night. She came to my room where she found me in a fetal position, got up on my bed and wrapped herself around me. She stayed with me like that all night.
Perhaps it was a little like when a part of us goes to sleep—an arm or a leg. When it comes back to life it tingles and hurts. I think my whole being was waking up that night, was coming back and, after an entire lifetime, it more than tingled. But it was life giving, too. That night, in that hospital bed, wrapped round by a compassionate nurse, the feeling came back to me and I began to live.
This is part 2 of a 2 part series. Read part 1 here: The Night I Died: The Whole Story, Part 1
I’ve never heard the whole story before. How scarry! Thank goodness for conscientious nurses!
Yes, the were my angels. Without them my experience could have been very different. I’m very grateful and sent each of them thank you letters.
Wow amazing story
I’m very grateful.
Even though I knew the story, I was again grateful for all of the angels surrounding you that night. I’ll never forget the night you called to tell me what happened and I was so wrapped up in trying to save my husband, Ken, from the cancer centered in his brain. that I didn’t give you the support I should have as your friend. I have lost Ken, but I will always have you as one of my oldest and dearest friends. Lovejoy
Oh, how could you even think about not having given me support when Ken was dying? I remember feeling terrible that I’d troubled you with my story when you were in the midst of what you were. It all happened so fast–both events. I always felt bad that I wasn’t there for YOU. Yes, friends always, dear one.
Yes, a captivating and frightening story that easily could have ended very badly. Still, I enjoyed the photos. Having known you for over 50 years (!) but not having seen you in over 40, those pictures were a real treat. The little girl Jeane with the hat and the pouty lower lip is a crack up. The you holding the Lab is about how I remember you. I’m sure glad you survived all of this, and found your artist’s voice.
Thanks, Larry. I’m glad too. And I’m happy you liked the pictures. I was probably 22 or 23 in the photo you mention with the lab (Meghann). The one of me sitting on the old pilings on the beach were senior year in HS. That’s exactly the last time we saw each other.
I love this woman who wrapped herself around you thru the night. I would have done the same.
I am so happy this time has come and gone but like you say it is the fiber that makes your core and brings to you the courage to remain open to lifes constant uncertainties. We live in a moment – this moment. We are blessed. I love you dear:)
Grace
Even so, I keep bumping into closed areas of my heart. For me, in each moment, I must find and re-find courage over and over again. Past experiences can give me perspective, though, but I am SUCH a work in progress! We ARE blessed. I love you too dear one.
My favorite part of the story., this angel crawling into bed with you.
Mine too, Mary. She brought me back to life that night by giving me her own life force. An amazing angel indeed.
Thank you thank you all of Jeane’s angels through they years:) You are my favorite angels:) This day of your 100th blog I am reminded to re-look at all of your blogs and feel the empathy for your challenges and sheer joy at your accomplishments:)
Love and hugs in this moment in this day,
Grace
Thank you, Grace. Yes, this anniversary post is making me feel nostalgic, too. My Buddhist teacher told me years ago that those of us who face huge challenges in our lives are truly blessed because, when we sat with our elders before returning to this physical plane, we told them we really wanted to “get it” this time. I agree. You are no stranger to overcoming massive struggles. And I am blessed to witness the blessings of your growth.
Love and blessings to you, dear one.
Jeane, this is a compelling and miraculous story! Thank you so much for sharing it. Your transformation has been a beautiful gift that has been a light for many.
Thank you, Sylvia. It’s been almost 16 years ago now and I continue to feel that one of the reasons I survived was to inspire others by telling my story. This is why the blog was born.
Finally read this for the first time. Love you Jeane, hope you’re still doing great out there. Would love to make it back out sometime.
Hi Kev–So lovely to hear from you. Yes, life here is still magical and nurturing and healing. I love my life! Your painting still awaits you here and I’ll be so happy to have you, Katie and the girls back any time.
I just read this account for the second time. It just amazes me that you are alive! This time I found myself wondering why you decided to live, given the comforting and restful feeling of reaching that point. This happened to me once. The only reason I decided to live was that my precipitous death would affect others around me at the time. Is this what brought you back? It would have been so easy to just go. How does life feel different to you, now that you have had that experience? Has it affected your art? Thanks for sharing this. It is very intimate and a precious gift to others.
Hi Sherry. Thank you for your kind thoughts and words. In the state I was in I didn’t think about family and friends. I was beyond worrying about what others might feel or do as a result of losing me. I was simply in an altered state where that kind of thought didn’t exist. BUT, there was that communication from somewhere, from some being/s telling me that I was free to go but that I hadn’t completed what I’d come to do in my life. THAT made me decide to stay. I believe in reincarnation and that during each life we endeavor to learn the lessons we came to learn. I didn’t want to leave that “job” undone. And, yes, it would have been much easier to go. I suppose the greatest effect it has had on me is that I don’t fear death anymore at all. And I believe I’ll grieve less, or differently anyway, when I lose someone I love. Because I’ve been there and I know it’s beautiful. The greatest way it’s effected my art is to get me back to doing it after not doing it for 26 years. And in all these years I’ve been painting I suppose it’s kept me going when the going got rough.
I really appreciate your questions, Sherry. Thanks for writing.