On November 3, 2020 I had a major aortic dissection which nearly killed me. Eight months later I had a very powerful experience just after my second surgery on my aorta.
Just before the surgery my surgeon tells us that he is concerned about the possibility of a surge of spinal fluid during or after the surgery which would cause me to become paraplegic. Therefore, he is going to drain much of my spinal fluid before the surgery. They will insert a needle into my spine through which the spinal fluid will be drained. The spinal drain will be left in for 48 hours, after which the risk of a surge will be gone, and I will be in the hospital for four days.
My wife and I are stunned because a month earlier the surgeon told us that I would only be in the hospital for a couple days and would be in a regular hospital room. This was huge because my initial nine day stay in ICU in November had been quite traumatic: I had a scary episode where I lost consciousness and they had to insert a special IV into my neck; absolutely no visitors were allowed which was like being in solitary confinement with benevolent jailers. During my hospital stay I had an episode of ICU delirium when I became convinced that I was being held prisoner. I later found out that ICU delirium is common for people with longer stays in ICU.
After the surgery, I am wheeled into my hospital room in the ICU unit. Yvette is there waiting for me. I have to lie in bed for four hours without moving my back or lifting my head to reduce the risk of a spinal headache. I am quite compliant, but the last hour becomes almost intolerable. My back aches badly and my whole body is stiff. Finally it's over, and Yvette leaves soon after because it’s now late in the evening. I am all alone in ICU. Again.
I feel the overwhelming sense of “nooooooo” beginning to seep into my being. Knowing that this won't do me any good, I move into my various meditation practices and have a fitful night of sleep. Sandy, my night nurse, must come in every hour to wake me to check the spinal fluid level and to check my toes and feet to make sure there is still feeling there. Sandy hears my fears and helps me to realize that the trauma of my last ICU stay eight months ago was then, but that this time might not be so traumatic.
The next day is a long day because I cannot get out of bed because of the spinal drain. Yvette spends most of the day with me, and then it is time for her to leave, and I am alone again.
I wake up at 4 AM when Sandy is checking the spinal fluid and my toes and feet. I have a deep a feeling of gratitude for a surprisingly decent night's sleep and such a sensitive, empathetic nurse. After she leaves, I try to go back to sleep but I can't. After 45 minutes of trying different meditations and other coping skills, I suddenly realize that I can practice metta meditation, in which I tap into the universal energy of love and goodwill and then radiate that energy out into the world.
I realize that I can radiate not just this energy of love and goodwill but also the immense energy of gratitude I feel toward my surgeon and toward my nurses, and I can radiate compassion toward the other patients in ICU, each of whose situation is worse than mine.
I begin the meditation by tuning in to this wondrous energy of gratitude--that I am still alive and for so many people who love and care about me. I allow myself to bathe in this energy for several minutes, lying quietly and feeling surprisingly content.
I begin to visualize people--the nurses, the other patients, Yvette, my children, my family, my friends. With each visualization, I radiate this energy of love outward.
I feel, as much as think, the phrases that I am using:
May you enjoy moments of happiness today
May you enjoy moments of peace today
May you enjoy moments of freedom from suffering today
After doing this for probably fifteen minutes or so, I am brought back to my body's fairly intense discomfort. I suddenly realize that I can radiate this energy of love and compassion to my own body, something I have never done before.
I begin by radiating this energy into my own aorta and then into the areas the aorta is feeding: my brain, my spine, my lungs, my stomach, my kidneys, and so on, down to my toes. When I breathe in, I feel the life-giving oxygen coming into my body. When I breathe out, I radiate love and gratitude.
My back is aching in many places because of being bedridden the last two days, so I radiate this energy into my lower back. After some time, there is only a mild ache. Then I radiate this energy into my legs which have been so tired for the last 13 years. After some time, the legs feel much better.
When I finish the meditation, I am literally in a state of bliss. I lie for there some time, feeling as peaceful and content as I have ever felt in my life. My mind is mostly still, except for a part of my mind that finds this bizarre. Letting go of that part, this feeling of bliss is palpable throughout my body.
Sandy comes in and asks how I am doing, and I tell her. She is obviously surprised and tells me this is not a response she has every heard from an ICU patient! Later the various teams of doctors and medical students make their rounds and ask me questions about how I am doing, breakfast comes, and the day goes on. However, I know that I will carry this experience with me for the rest of my life. As I write this almost 10 months later, I can still feel that experience in my body and my heart, knowing that that state is possible, though obviously not fully accessible on command.
Several months later I was reading a book by Ajahn Brahm, a Buddhist monk who had a similar experience when he was sick with typhus, lying in a hospital bed in a small clinic in a remote part of Thailand, knowing that he might die. The abbot of the monastery came to visit him and said, "you'll either die or recover." Those words, delivered matter of factly, somehow moved him into a similar experience where physical discomfort literally vanished, and he was immersed in a feeling of peace and contentment that he also bathed in for some time.