Recap

I've written about my hospital experience before and titled them "The day I died" pts 1 and 2 and can be found on this blog, written, I believe in 2010, whereas the actual experience took place probably the early eighties or late seventies.  Details of the experience is seated firmly in my memory cells due to the impact the experience has had. 

 

Seeing I have already written on this I won't repeat myself.  Pt 2 deals with the Akashic Record that I experienced whilst in hospital and it is a knowledge that should be understood.  Click on the link below:

http://arcane-journey.blogspot.hu/2010/08/day-i-died-pt-2.html

 

There is just one thing I want to add to the hospital experience and concerns the comment made by my mysterious visitor.  "I'm glad you made it."  I am a firm believer in Predestination and that most fundamental experiences we encounter on earth are preplanned, and that includes the time, date, and our method of departure from this world.  

 

She gave me the impression, that in my case, the outcome of the operation could have gone either way.  There may have been a 50/50 chance whether I survived the ordeal or not.  In either case she was glad that I made it through.

 

Walter

An unexpected visitor

My visitors had all left.  I just lay in bed quietly listening to others chatting around me.  Being usually quite sociable I was not yet well enough to converse.  The pain was still there refusing to subside.  I was persevering.  I was also feeling very hungry, not having eaten for days, prior having come to hospital.

Lying there somewhat bored, my attention was directed toward a female entering the ward.  She was only small, early thirties, fair hair running to her shoulders, and very attractive.  She was dressed in a tan outfit with a dress running down to her knees.  She came directly to my bed and sat down, glancing down at me.

I had no idea who this woman may be.  Was she a nurse?  She wasn’t dressed like one.  Her face was calm with a warm gentle expression with a tinge of slight concern.  Although a stranger, there was a feeling of familiarity, a compassionate feeling of assurance, a comforting feeling to have her in my presence.  She was there for me, she had come for me, not once did she seem to glance in the direction of the others lying in the ward with me.  Her eyes seemed deep, caring, the eyes I saw before, when they were wheeling me into the operating theatre, the last thing that I had seen.  Was this the same woman?

She then wiped my brow.  I was surprised that she did that as I felt somewhat revolted lying there with tubes stuck up my nose and down my throat.  I knew I looked a sorrowful pitiful sight.  I felt embarrassed that she was seeing me like this.  At the same time as she wiped my brow she said, “I’m glad you made it.  Especially you.” Her comment made me feel even more embarrassed.  I was shocked.  Why would this stranger, even were she a nurse, make such an endearing comment?

I knew then that something unusual was going on here.  Something out of the extraordinary.  This was no ordinary woman.  I was just so succumbed by her presence that words just couldn’t leave my lips.  “I have to go.” She suddenly said. I didn’t want her to go.  I loved her being there.  I suddenly mustered up the strength to say something to keep her there; the chocolates, there on my night table, what my mother had brought in, I quickly offered her some.  “No, I can’t stay.” With a gentle stroke of my wrist she rose from the bed and disappeared out of my life as quickly as she had entered.  I never saw her again.

A visitation by an angel?  No, I believe not.  A supernatural visitation.  Most definitely.  This explains her sudden need to leave.  Spirits who materialize in this manner can only maintain this low frequency for a short while or are given a time limit on how long they can stay in contact.  Besides that, no woman refuses chocolates, surely.  So who was she?  Probably a part of my Group Soul, someone who found me lovable enough to come and visit.  Naturally, there will be the scoffers, the doubters, the uninitiated, who find these things too unbelievable, too incredible to be true.  He must have been hallucinating…the morphine can really knock you out, send you to another planet, so to speak.  And then there is the old common – why you?  What makes you so special?

This is not a question you should be asking me, but rather ask yourself, why not you?

A related article that I found of interest:
On spirit intervention..... 

The morning after

"Just take some deep breaths." I heard a female voice say to me.  I was just coming back into consciousness.  My eyes were closed, my awareness vague, but I knew she was addressing me.  It's probably the pain that brought me out of peaceful unconsciousness…and it was intense.  "Yes, I know, I meditate," I answered, knowing not why I was saying it.  No breathing exercise was going to ease this excruciating pain.  She must have been aware that I was waking, and in pain, or she may even have been stationed there to monitor my waking.  I don't know.  

Was the medication helping?  Not at all.  The pain continued regardless of what they injected into me.  The aftereffect of the morphine needed to be counteracted with another medication and so on.  But I managed to endure the pain without screaming the place down.  After all, I wasn't the only one in the ward, there may have been at least eight others lying there on their death beds, only they didn't seem to be suffering to my extent.  She obviously interested in my level of pain and kept annoyingly asking me what level of pain I was experiencing on a scale between 1 to 10.  I was hardly in the mood to discuss these details.

As I lay there I never experienced such overwhelming weakness.  My entire body seemed to be unfunctional.  If I needed to get up out of bed that would have proved entirely impossible.  I must have been in this helpless condition for days.  Annoyingly, as the nurses are in hospital, they would have shown me no mercy where morning showers are concerned.  "Get up and shower." doesn't matter if you are half dead.  But I got special treatment; they washed me in bed, very unceremoniously, I might add.

My parents, friends, and other members of the family came to visit the same day after the operation.  Although in great pain I was sociable.  I was brought bananas, apples and chocolates even though I wasn't allowed to eat.  It would have been difficult even if I could as I had tubes down my nose and mouth which I found very irritating and depressing.  I know I looked an absolute fright, and worse yet, I felt revolted within myself.

"Have you had a Near Death Experience?"  Now is this a time to ask?  Well, looking half dead and just having come from under the knife, probably was appropriate.  No I didn't, or at least I don't remember.  The doctor earlier had told me that I had briefly slipped away.  He further told me had I arrived a few minutes later in emergency, more than likely I would not have survived.  But then I did have a NDE: wasn't I hovering above the ambulance, admiring the night scenery?  But I forgot to tell them that.  Better than nothing.  I'll reach the Pearly Gates another day. 

My journey into pain

I woke up.  The pain was excruciating.  For moments I lay there.  Trying to recollect my senses and reorient my thoughts.  Oh, it's come to this, after all those years of suffering with pain, the years of false diagnosis, the many different doctors I had seen; flam in the stomach, they parrots they would all repeat themselves.  I kept saying different.  No, it's something more serious.  But they were persistent with their diagnosis.  Could they all be wrong? 

Yes!  They could and were.  Now it has come to this.  I lowered my hand beneath the blanket, slowly letting my hand slide down my chest, down to my stomach.  A cold chill traversed my spine - a long elastic tape ran down to the stomach.  It felt a mile long.  God, I mumbled beneath my breath, what have they done to me?  They have half butchered me.  Was all this necessary?

No, it wouldn't have been had the doctors stepped beyond their egos and referred me to a specialist.  In this they failed.  The diagnosis was simply appendicitis, a complaint I bore for several years, which finally caused the appendix to burst, leaking poison to the back of the spine with gangrene taking hold.

I was now on my way to hospital by ambulance with flashing lights.  The hospital doctors, after I had angrily admitted myself, suddenly realising that I was hovering between life and death, quickly decided to transfer me to a larger hospital.  In the meantime, my parents having been informed about my demise, stood anxiously in the wee hours of the night by the gate knowing that the ambulance would pass their front gate.

In the ambulance the pain was excruciating to such a degree that I could feel myself slipping into a coma.  I have since come to believe that we all have a threshold of pain tolerance, call it an act of nature, once we have reached that threshold we slip naturally into a coma, then death.  During my intense agony, with a nurse fussing around me, I could feel a calm come over me, the pain slowly abating.  I was relaxed and at peace.  I was drifting out of the body.  I knew the pain was still a part of the physical body and I could sense the sensation but did not feel the pain.

At this point I was no longer inside the ambulance, but floating outside, about two feet above the roof.  Oh, I knew I wasn't dead, or that I was dying, just on my way to hospital.  I could still readily sense my physical body and the trauma it was experiencing and that I was still strongly connected to it.  As we passed my parents' house I could not help but smile to myself as I saw them standing by the gate, watching me go past.  I could feel their anxiety, their concern, just two small figures standing there quietly in the dark.  I could have reached out and touched them.

My peace was about to come to a shuttering end.  We arrived at the hospital.  I was immediately drawn back into the physical body, back into the agonizing hell it was experiencing.  The emergency team was there waiting for me.  Hands were grabbing me everywhere, off one stretcher onto another, wheeled at high speed through doorways into corridors, elevators, x-ray chambers.  There were at least six nurses manhandling me in every conceivable manner, tearing off my clothes, shaving where they shouldn't be shaving, sticking injections, sliding plastic tubing down my nose and throat and other unmentionable places.  The whole process seemed at super speed with one male nurse continuously asking me annoying questions.  I then suddenly came to the realization - hell, I'm going under the knife.

Then suddenly I was pushed through these double swing doors, into a darkened narrow passageway.  I was now taken by a team in green surgical gowns with their faces masked.  There was a nurse beside me, she was stroking my arm in reassurance.  Her eyes were bright and penetrating above her white mask.  It was surreal.  I couldn't break my gaze from her.  Her eyes were the last thing that I saw.

Continued…..