This is a tale I heard from a patient’s wife during my last hospital clinical. It’s a story as it was told to me and involves nothing regarding patient care, but I’m still going to change a few details to protect me from the HIPAA folks 😉
Says the lady:
Would you believe that I died once? Yes, nineteen years ago, in 2000, I died.
I was in the hospital for an operation for my ovarian cancer. They’d put me on one of those patient-med things [Patient-Controlled Analgesic] that’s supposed to regulate how much morphine you get. Only the machine malfunctioned and I got 44 doses in two hours. It was one of those regional, very small county hospitals and I guess they didn’t have their equipment set up right.
Why am I still alive? Well, luckily, an employee of the hospital came in to look at me. He was a VERY striking man, which is why my husband remembers him: very tall, long blond hair, very piercing eyes the same sky-blue as his scrubs – looked like a cover model, you know? Well, he came over and looked at me. Then he said to my husband, “Wow, your wife is sleeping VERY deeply.” Then he left.
And my husband thought, “Hmmmm, yes, she’s sleeping . . . but I can’t hear her snoring. Janie ALWAYS snores . . . hmmm . . .” and came over to look at her more closely. He saw that her lips were blue and her eyes were glazed and he went straight out to find a nurse. The nurse he found dismissed his concerns with an airy “yes, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” to which he barked, “NO! You’re coming with me NOW!!” He marched her to my bedside, she hit the Code Blue button, and they brought me back!
A few hours later, when it was all over, my husband asked the nursing manager if she could page the employee who had noticed my stupor in the first place – the tall blond man with the bright blue eyes.
To which the nursing manager replied, “What?”
“You know! The man – wearing blue scrubs – very tall, very blond, bright blue eyes – he’s the one who noticed that my wife was dead and I want to thank him. Can you please either page him or at least tell me his name and give me his number so I can call him?”
To which the nursing manger replied, “Sir . . . there is no one who works in our little hospital who looks like that. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
***
Goose bumps rose up on my arms.
The lady looked me in the eyes. “Believe in angels, or karma, or God, or divine intervention, or whatever you want to call it . . . I died nineteen years ago, but I’m still alive. God is so good.”
Fin
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