Unconscious, yet Awake to the Light

© Copyright 2011 N. Gamil Dawes.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4269-6882-2 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4269-6883-9 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011907539

Trafford rev.06/16/2011

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Contents

Chapter I

The Experience

Chapter II

Before The Experience

Chapter III

After The Experience

Chapter IV

As The Pendulum Swings

Chapter V

Prayers And Devotions

Bibliography

For the greater glory and praise of God!

For with you is the fountain of life,

   and in your light we see light.

Continue your kindness toward your friends,

   your just defense of the honest heart.

Psalm 36:10-11

Chapter I

The Experience

How does one narrate an event not easily grasped? Not even by those closest to you? To keep it contained in oneself is rather selfish. It can be comfortable relishing the joy alone, yet its overflowing effect makes one want to share it - almost automatically. Like shouting it on the rooftops, or sharing something joyful as we do at Christmas time. Understandably, a real memorable gift is recollected more often - like sustaining a soul on its earthly journey.

The Event that Started it All

The World Youth Day (or WYD) is now an international phenomenon. Its conception brought on by the Jubilee of the Catholic Church in 1985 slowly infused into the hearts of the Youths the renewal of the idea of faith. By Easter of the following year, the first World Youth Day took place in Italy. It has been a yearly event since, celebrated both internationally and alternating with observance in the dioceses. The different locations throughout the world made it an invigorating celebration for the host country.

So, it was in July 2002 when Canadians were the chosen host of the event. In that hot summer, the media was busily covering the unfolding of WYD. There was an air of expectation as everyone waited for the arrival of Pope John Paul II. The Pontiff was by then in such poor health that the public were unsure of what to expect. Being avid Catholic volunteers, we were planning all our activities around that most marvellous occasion.

The families in our Parish in Quebec hosted Italian pilgrims en route to Toronto, the site of the celebrations. My husband, John, and I had the privilege of billeting two young Italian ladies for the weekend. It was a rather busy time for me as we were also taking care of Tanya, a sixteen-month-old quasi-granddaughter. Later we were told the ladies had to extend their stay until Tuesday. No problem. Besides, Tanya was keeping them amused. It was a rainy morning when we bade goodbye to the ladies at the bus pick-up. That Tuesday became our first free day - no commitments. We anticipated times of relaxation and undisturbed television viewing - and recording - of the WYD activities into the weekend.

But first, there was a dinner at our place, with some friends, that Wednesday, the 24th of July 2002. The get-together was part of the preparations for the wedding of our daughter, Christine, the following week. We had to decide what pictures we wanted taken during that day. We had enjoyed the meal with the photographer and his wife. Business talks concluded and, with dessert, the conversation inevitably drifted into religion. There was a friendly sparing between ourselves on this topic. I told them of some interesting passages in the book of John Paul II, The Threshold of Hope, which I was reading at the time. Meaning to retrieve the aforementioned book, I left the gathering and went upstairs. As I was descending the stairs, I heard a whoosh as though a tap had been turned on. I was disconcerted, but decided to ignore it.

I rejoined the group and continued with the conversation. But the awful feeling of nausea assailed me, I finally had to admit defeat. I made excuses and we ended the gathering. Our guests, the photographer and his wife, left with complete understanding.

I had intended to rest until the sickness passed, but it was not to be. I rushed to the powder room and vomited violently. As I went to the couch, I asked John to call 911. He was rushing around madly trying to be of help, yet only after my reminder did he realize we were in a crisis. He made the call, and hearing his explanations to the operator, I tried to fathom what was happening to me. My head felt swollen like a football. Definitely the pain was not helping in my diagnosis. Although the response was immediate, it felt like ages before the ambulance arrived, preceded by a fire-truck. It was amazing how psychologically better I felt as soon as the paramedics had the situation well in hand. They first assessed my condition, phoned the hospital, and got me into the ambulance. We headed to the closest hospital - the Lakeshore General.

I was wheeled into the Emergency Room and was attended to by a lady physician who assured me that the needle she would give me would make me feel better. And she was right! Whatever it was, it calmed me down. I was so grateful, especially when a nurse stopped my shivering with a warm blanket. It was in that happy cocooned position that John and the photographer, who had come to the hospital, found me. One of them retrieved my rosary from the side table and wrapped it around my right hand. I had taken that rosary from our altar at home before the ambulance came. They prayed over me, and saw my peaceful look.

She is in God’s arms! the photographer observed.

May you have the tongue of an angel, I thought with my eyes closed.

The next thing I knew I was being rushed for a CT[1] scan. The doctor who was recalled from his end-of-shift departure decided, after seeing the result of the scan, that I should be transferred to another hospital. He had called first, so the hospital would anticipate my arrival.

As I was being transferred to another ambulance, I caught sight of the other people nearby - our eldest, Rodney, and his wife, Rose, and Fr. Robert, the priest for the coming wedding. I was relieved to see Rodney as I was afraid how John was reacting to the whole situation. He needed someone’s support.

Soon the ambulance was on its way. With its siren blaring, we merged into Highway 40. It was like being in the movies, I chuckled and that was the last thing I remembered before oblivion took over.

•

I woke up in sort of a daze. One of my eyes felt swollen, and I was having trouble focusing on my visitors. Aida, my friend from my high school years in the Philippines, was there with her husband, Jacques. I found it amazing that they heard of my being in the hospital. News travels that fast? I wondered.

At least you are alive. Aida said.

I was puzzled with her comment. Of course, I am alive. But I found it hard to speak. She noticed my confusion and sadness which, she told me years later, surprised her. Afraid of upsetting me, she kept on with her usual gay conversation. Soon they took their leave. John came in and told me Christine would soon be there. For some reason, I could not share his light mood. An overwhelming feeling of disappointment was inundating me. I felt like crying. I wanted to be taken back. Back to where?

A nurse was busily checking me, and I gathered that I had had an operation - a brain surgery. This is serious, I thought. I did not feel any pain beyond the intravenous needle. My swollen eyes - the right eye, I think - was uncomfortable. But, like always, I wanted to cooperate with the nurses and doctors and be as little trouble to them as possible. They were all very nice and kind. I did not ply them with questions. Instead I just placidly abided with their bidding. They were surprised when I refused the sleeping pill, but they insisted I should take it to help in my recovery. There was something strange though. They were all acting as though I had not just come out of surgery! But definitely, I knew I was in a room in the Intensive Care Unit of some hospital. The sleeping pill took effect, and I rested like a baby!

•

The following morning came, and I was subjected to the normal routine for patients. Breakfast arrived, and since everything seemed tasteless, I asked the nurse which part I really must eat. She pointed to something chocolate in a cup. I don’t like chocolate, so I downed it as fast as I could. I barely touched the rest of the food.

John came in happily by midmorning. I must have been sullen as he became serious in no time. He seemed rather upset that Christine had not come the previous day to show me some pictures. I was nonplussed, so he did not explain. Finally Christine came lively into the room with her usual energy. She did show me some pictures which I hardly glanced at. Then, just as suddenly, she was bidding me good-bye.

Why are you in a hurry? I asked.

We have to catch our plane, Mom. she said.

Where are you going?

We are leaving for Spain, remember? she informed me.

But I thought that’s where you’re going for your honeymoon?

It is. The wedding is over! It was the other day.

I was so shocked, I was speechless. More goodbyes and she was gone. I was left trying to assimilate a new reality - I had missed the wedding, along with a lot of other things!

Then I recalled seeing yesterday the children of my friend in the hallway, outside my room, being picked-up by their father. The kids were supposed to be given a ride by one of us to the wedding. The significance did not hit me then.

So if the wedding was the other day, today must be Monday, the 5th of August 2002. I had been unaware of events - or unconscious - since the ambulance ride to this hospital on July 24. That translated to ten days of unaccounted existence! Where was I during that time? More to the point, what did I do, or say, in those times? People did not seem to be aware I was somewhere else. Who can tell me, please? Everybody seems unaware that I was not there! They just seemed to assume that changes in my attitude were due to what my brain had gone through.

Within that week, my niece, Myrna, who was then close to being my confidante, dropped by for a visit. She thought I looked a lot better, especially when I reminded her of the book she had planned to loan me. She thought I had forgotten it since I had not mentioned it for some time. That was when I told her of my absence and then proceeded to question her about those unaccounted-for days.

Did I say anything out of character? Was I strange in any way? I was eager to know. Like somebody who has sobered up from a drunken stupor, I was worried what damage, if any, my ramblings might have caused.

After the surgery, you were easily tired, as expected. Later, we conversed normally. We did not suspect anything amiss. Myrna assured me.

Did I remember the wedding?

Oh, yes, you did. You even reminded us of the flowers! I was supposed to arrange the bouquets for the wedding.

Whoever it was you were talking to, sure knew me well! This was an incredible revelation for me.

Myrna left promising to bring me the book on her next visit. I was left trying to analyze what had transpired. I could not tell my husband. He was still occupied with so many things that any interrogation might have panicked him. I would ask one of the doctors, if I had a chance.

Meanwhile, I wondered, who took my place? Seemingly, I reminded John to go to Mass as we normally try to attend daily Mass. It must have been someone who really knew me that stood in my place. Was it perhaps my Guardian Angel? Was I busy somewhere else?

At this point I was reminded of the reason why I felt so disappointed. It was the light! I was in a bright, consoling, loving light that made me so happy. It was a happiness that I had never experienced before - like receiving the most precious gift that was all one could ever desire. How long I stayed there, I know not. What was clear to me was my longing to stay there forever! I forgot everything in this life - somehow everything became insignificant. No wonder I was so sad when I woke up.

•

The next few days I mourned in my heart while trying to appear happy. With great effort I kept being a good patient, obeying whatever was asked of me. Yet inside I kept nurturing the hope that I might be called back to the light. I forgot the notion that I had to die first to get back there.

I finally looked at the pictures Christine had brought. They were now tacked to a board in my room for me to study at a distance. They were candid shots of the family during the wedding. How nice and happy they all looked! Thank God, everything seemed to have transpired smoothly.

I was one of the deeply involved persons in the preparation of