When Time Stood Still
The last place I wanted to be was in a hospital room. All hospital rooms seem the same—off-white walls, plastic trim, stainless handles, the smell of disinfectant, and the sense of uncertainty.
But I was there because the ambulance brought me and I couldn’t get around that. I was getting the attention any patient would have wanted, but I really didn’t need to be there.
Okay, so I passed out earlier in the day. No big deal. I had been under a lot of stress recently, so a few seconds of unconsciousness due to a nervous breakdown or whatever was no surprise. One can’t hide stress or stuff it down too long before it shows itself. That much I knew.
I lay on the hospital bed, my upper body tilted to forty-five degrees. My wife and kids stood around me as the doctors debated whether I was cleared to leave or not. All the test results indicated that I could go. I would have been out of there if it weren’t for one doctor who strongly advised I stay for further testing. But I had a hunting trip lined up that night and needed to leave. Soon.
After finishing dinner, I pushed the tray aside. A numbing sensation slowly crept up my head. I glanced at my boys, reached for them, and asked my wife to get the nurse.
Suddenly, my eyes rolled back as I dropped onto my pillow. The monitor flat-lined. My heart stopped. I lost all connection to this world.
———
My journey into the world of death had actually begun one night a few months earlier. I remember I was sitting behind a computer wearing jeans and a maroon shirt, clothes I’d worked in that day.
At that moment, I had one objective: find a new motor for my boat. I had just hung up the phone from talking to my mom and dad, wishing them a great time while they were on a trip, and wishing Mom a happy seventieth birthday.
The phone rang again twenty minutes later. My wife, Debbie, answered it, and I could tell it was Mom again.
“Hey, Mom. Having a good time? Everything okay?”
Debbie smiled at me, but then her smile turned to shock.
“What?” gasped Debbie. “What hospital are they taking him to?”
Holding her hand over the phone, Debbie looked right at me. “Craig, your dad just had a heart attack!” We packed our bags and drove as quickly as we could to Anne Arundel County, Maryland.
A nurse greeted us at the hospital. Nobody had to say anything. I saw Mom down the hallway.
“They tried, but Dad didn’t make it,” Mom said softly.
No, this couldn’t be real. My dad, my hunting partner of thirty-two years, the one and only Dad.
Someone tell me it’s a bad dream. Please.
As He has done for so many, God sent numbness. Divine Novocain. A soothing ointment to soften the blow. Whatever you want to call it, it got me through the funeral and even a few weeks after. But as with all painkillers, the numbness faded with time, giving way to something much heavier: grief, depression, and unanswered questions.
No one rebounds quickly from such a devastating event. My thoughts sank into a thick fog, and I was losing my bearings. My emotional tank was empty, and there I stalled, floating in the dark waters of unanswered questions.
Why now? I would scream to myself.
Where is God in all this? I would beg to know. Does He hear me or my prayers?
Is there even a heaven? And can I be sure Dad is there? My thoughts confused me.
You see, I grew up a Christian and knew all the answers. Dad and the church taught me well. I should have known without a doubt that Dad was with God. But doubt drifted in, and I drifted out and didn’t know how to get back.
Eventually, I returned to work. People told me it would be good to move on. I wasn’t so sure, but couldn’t come up with anything better. I also made plans to head back out later that week with some hunting buddies. Though it would be hard without Dad, I knew it would bring some healing I desperately needed. I just had to get through one more day of work, and then leave for the cabin that evening.
That morning was like any other. I felt great. I was looking forward to getting the workday behind me, heading down the road, and meeting the guys at the cabin.
At work, I was scheduled to preview a job site with my boss, John. I normally handled that on my own. But John had all the notes and knew all the details, so I nearly fought with him just to go. He finally gave in.
Upon arriving at the job site, I began measuring the walls. But the room seemed to spin below my feet. John drove me back to the shop. I entered the showroom, tried to sit on the couch, and then hit the floor face-first.
“Someone call 9-1-1!” John yelled as he rushed to my side.
Minutes later the EMTs arrived.
“Looks like you’re coming with us,” they said.
My wife tried to contact our family doctor to see if I could get an appointment at his office instead of going to the ER, but there were no openings. So I was on my way.
At the hospital, they ran a series of tests. The ER doctors came to discuss the results.
“We don’t have a clear idea what happened,” said one. “We have a couple more tests we want to run. One is an ultrasound check on your carotid artery. That could tell us something. We also want to run a Lyme disease test and a few others.”
“Why can’t my doctor run these tests at another time?” I protested. “I really need to be somewhere tonight.”
“Well,” they answered. “You could go. But it will take months before you get the appointments and a whole lot more in co-pays. We can take care of all the tests within the next twenty-four hours if we admit you for the night.”
I was still prepared to check out when my father-in-law spotted one of his neighbors, who was the head of the emergency room. Some of my family members asked him for his opinion.
“Here is where it stands,” he said. “Though the test results show us no red flags, things have escalated in the prognosis as a result of Craig’s family history and the recent death of his father. Hearing all of the circumstances, I think it would be in Craig’s best interest to admit him overnight for further testing.”
We questioned his judgment, but he insisted. Again, I had no control in this situation. It was three o’clock in the afternoon when they admitted me for an overnight stay.
My wife brought my three sons from school. Entering the room, they looked at me with eyes of uncertainty. It’s hard for any kid to see his dad lying on a hospital bed.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”
“Are you going hunting?” asked my oldest.
“No, that’s out,” I said. “They need to run more tests overnight. So you guys want to stay with me here to watch the Eagles game?”
They nodded as I ate my mac and cheese. Finishing my meal, I began pushing the tray away from me.
“Hey, Deb,” I said. “I’m not feeling so great. Can you get the nurse?”
When Deb and the nurse returned, they found me lying on my bed with my fists clenched and my eyes rolled back. The monitor made a continuous beeping sound, setting an alarm off at the nurses’ station.
“Craig! Craig!” screamed Debbie as she slapped my face. “Craig! Wake up!”
Three more nurses burst into the room. Debbie hustled our boys out.
The doctor and a nurse reviewed the strip. My heart had completely stopped. The three electrical systems in my heart failed, so the defibrillator would be useless.
I was not prepared for the life-changing moment that was about to happen. When my heart stopped, time seemed to stop as well. I sensed a feeling that I can only liken to being pulled out of a wet suit. I felt myself slowly moving forward.
I felt a tremendous sense of peace and well-being. The scenery was in high definition, crisp and sharp. Everything around me had an amazing iridescence to it. The colors shone like those that emerged when my kids used to blow bubbles in the direct sunlight—only much more intense and on a larger scale.
I noticed a figure standing a short distance away. I quickly saw that it was my father. His hair was parted as it always was, but was darker in color as it had been when he was younger. I also noticed as I approached him that he wasn’t wearing his glasses—though he’d worn them for as long as I can recall. I clearly remember his arms reaching toward me as if to gently push me back or stop my forward progress.
“Not now. Not right now,” he said. Then he disappeared.
As quickly as I came, I started to leave. I sensed the feeling of fighting my way out of a bag, similar to that “wet suit” feeling. As I began to regain my bearings, I noticed many people around me, including several nurses and doctors on both sides of my bed. As my vision focused, my mind cleared. I saw Debbie standing next to me.
“I saw my dad! I felt like I was fighting my way out of a bag!” I told her.
The doctors, having quickly diagnosed the problem with my heart, rushed me down the hall to insert a temporary pacemaker. The whole episode lasted only thirty seconds according to the printout on the electrocardiogram, but it felt like an eternity.
Few events in anyone’s life make time stand still. This was one for me. It’s funny sometimes how God answers our questions. All of mine were answered in that short time. I don’t know why God chose to answer me in that way, but I am better because of it.
Is God in control? Yes. Does He hear my prayers? Yes. Is heaven real? Definitely. Do I trust God more now? You bet.
And now I know that I have a purpose greater than I ever thought. “Not now” means there is more for me to do and more for me to know about God’s love. I can’t help but think that my newfound purpose might be a combination of spreading the reality of His love through His Son and sharing the reality of a life beyond this one.
I guess heart failure is what it took to bring my faith to where it is now. I am the proud owner of a permanent pacemaker and a renewed faith in my Maker.