As I learn just how close to death I was, I am terrified and mystified at the same time. There's an image in my head of the Holy Spirit invisibly alighting on different people responsible for saving me.
All of the doctors I spoke with told me it was strange how healthy I looked. I was bleeding out pools of blood and my platelets were dropping, but my skin had color and I was carrying on conversations, joking and laughing as everyone worked on me. They were so worried that many of them checked my status updates from home throughout the night.
I had been treating my symptoms as though they were common pregnancy aches and pains. That day, I awoke from a nap unaware that my baby was dead and my platelets were dropping. I had the intuition to call my doctor. Had I not called her, I would have started to bleed spontaneously there on my couch. She said I should go to the hospital if the pain didn't go away in an hour. My husband decided I should go in THAT very moment.
And there was the doctor who recognized the platelet shortage at the hospital and ordered the Red Cross to fly more in by helicopter, just in case. Lastly, after telling numerous nurses that it hurt to breathe deeply, there was a doctor who had a feeling my chest pain might be more than muscle tension and sent me for the CT scan that discovered a blood clot.
In college one of my friends committed suicide. For years, we had lived the same lifestyle, but I cleaned up and converted to the Catholic Church. He remained in his jaded life of sin. His death left me wondering why I had received the graces to live a new life and he hadn't.
As I learn just how close to death I was, this question comes back to me again. Why, Lord, did you spare me? What is it you want from me now? Without answers, my only response is gratitude and renewed vigor to carry out my vocation.
