"We Don't Have Anything for That Here!"

I spent 5 days in the hospital this past week, and had a very unique exprience that still causes me some confusion, but which was also a very unique blessing.

After 3 days of pretty horrible pain and nausea, I was finally coming around to being a human again. I was loaded with all kind of meds; my arm looked like a pin cushion with all the needles stuck in it. And then this very unusual (funny?) thing happened.

I was lying there, talking with my daughter, and I closed my eyes to rest them for a moment. To my astonishment, with my eyes closed, I began to see pictures of people and things floating toward me. It was like there was a small camera on my eyeball, floating this way and that, and taking those pictures.

They were tiny pictures of the faces of persons, mostly male, and one and then another would move aggressively toward me. I couldn't dodge them; they frightened me with their obsessive movement.

I tried to look away (all this with eyes closed, remember) but they kept on coming back, bombarding me with their moving faces. At first, the faces were just plain people, but then they became grotesque and twisted, mouths slashed, eyes bulging, and terrible diseased spots scattered on them.

All this was happening in the space of maybe 30 seconds because I almost immediately opened my eyes and the faces went away. My heart was beginning to pound a bit now. Just to be sure that it was a momentary thing I shut my eyes again, waited a second, and there they were - back again!

Now I was becoming panicky. I hesitated to say anything to Mary, but she understands me pretty well and I thought she would believe me if I told her what was happening. So I told her and she said, "Well, gosh, Mom, that's strange."

I kinda shrugged, feeling pretty stupid, and determinedly kept my eyes open. When Mary was leaving, I shut my eyes very quickly, just to check, and, dang it. the pictures were back. But I decided to act like an adult and let Mary go without worrying her.

That was a mistake. After she left, I frantically shut my eyes again and again and there the pictures were, dancing up and down, moving fast and hatefully toward me. By now, I was frantic. I couldn't keep on doing this, shutting my eyes and then having to pop them open to ward off thedse grotesque, frightening, obsessive person pictures. I had to be able to sleep!

So I called the nurse, who just happened to be a large, black woman, very professional and very assured, and told her what was happening. At first, she just didn't say anything, but I kept on ranting about the terrible thing that was happening to me. She listened a few seconds longer , then started moving deliberately toward the door and said, "We don't have anything here to take care of that." I know she thought I was crazy.

This is all funny now, but then it was the most terrifying, horrible, frightening experience I have ever had. In desperation, after struggling another 30 minutes with the same thing happening every time I closed my eyes, I called her back and asked for a pain shot. She gave it to me and I fell asleep.

Two hours later, I woke up. The pictures were back, and now the machine feeding the tubes into my arm was making a strange sound. It was very rhythmically saying, "Attack, attack, attack" each time a drop in the I.V. hit the bottom of the bottle. (You can laugh now, because it sounds so ridiculous) but I was almost hysterical . Was I going insane? Did I have a fatal disease? Would I become a specimen for medical science to ponder over?

It was the closest I've come in a long time to completely "losing it." I wished for Mary, I wished for Bill, I wished for Mark, I wished for anyone who could help me, but I was all by myself .

But not completely.

In a moment of utter despair, desperation, confusion, fear overwhelming
me, I called out to God for help. And He was there, calming me, warming me, and loving me.

The pictures didn't stop, but I was calmer, able to think coherently and realize that what was happening could be from my cataract eye distorting things, or an effect of the many meds.

So I called the nurse back. I was determined to ask her if she heard the machine saying "Attack, attack, attack" and if she didn't, I knew I was in big trouble. Very carefully I asked her: "Do you hear the noise that machine is making?"

To my great relief, she said, "Oh yes, it's a faulty machine and has always made strange noises, which change from time to time." I was so happy to have her confirm that I wasn't really "going 'round the bend."

So there it is: my strange, weird, unaccountable experience. By the time I left hospital on Tuesday, all the pictures were gone, I was sleeping well, and the nightmare was over.

So why write all this? Remember the title, "We don't have anything for something like that?" Well, she is right; science doesn't have an answer to such experiences. But the spiritual world does have an answer for us, and it is God.

Peace and love from a grateful believer.