Back to Reality, Ope There Goes Gravity
Leaving and returning from consciousness in Costa Rica #MWC Reentry
My eyes slowly began to twitch, and I swore I was dreaming. I heard and saw nothing. Thoughts ran through my head, and surprisingly, I heard an unrecognizable and unclassifiable voice talking to me about work, of all things. This voice told me to continue on my mission to help other safety professionals do a better job of saving lives, but this is a story for another time.
After an undetermined amount of time, my mind tried to process the situation I was in through the haze caused by my head hitting the ground hard. I kept thinking a bomb must have gone off, and my body was thrown to a new location. However, I could not comprehend what was happening or where I was.
Eventually, I was coherent enough to recognize the questions posed to me by strangers: What is your name? Where are you? When were you born? How many children do you have? My answers must have been sufficient because soon, the questions stopped.
I didn’t become even slightly aware of what had happened until I found myself more alert in the back of an ambulance with my husband’s hand forcefully resting on my head. He was in attempting to apply enough pressure to an open wound so bleeding would stop. It is fortunate that my neck and head were securely held in a stable position on the stretcher so that I could only look at the ceiling of the ambulance and not into his terrified eyes.
As I re-entered the world of consciousness, I still did not register any pain except for discomfort when attempting to move my left arm. The damage to my head, left wrist, hand, ribs, chest, and back were unnoticeable to me at this time as I was slowly beginning to be aware of my situation and surroundings. Worry and concern had not caught up with my mind yet, and I was filled only with bliss.
I was now in the back of an ambulance travelling at high speed along unpaved roads in Costa Rica. An hour before, I was sitting by a pool, surrounded by trees, at an eco-resort on the edge of the Manuel Antonio Rainforest. I was with my three children and husband. Before I left the world as I knew it, I had been reading Decisive by Chip and Dan Heath. I now have that book on my bookshelf with a small splatter of blood on the cover.
For a still unknown and unexplainable reason, a 42-foot tree on the hotel property fell that afternoon towards the hotel pool. My lounge chair, and I, were directly in the line of fire. When the tree fell, my three children and husband were able to react quickly and get out of the way after hearing a resounding crack. I thank God every day they escaped relatively unscathed.
I, on the other hand, decided that I could do battle with the falling tree. If you know even the littlest bit about physics, and gravity, in particular, you probably know that the speed at which a tree falls makes it very difficult to get out of the way in time if one falls towards you. Being directly in line with the tree made it almost impossible.
By all accounts, I turned to face the incoming tree and raised my left arm in an overly optimistic attempt to protect myself and my family. Unfortunately, not being the superhuman I imagined, the tree knocked me to the ground, and along the way, my head and body hit a small retaining wall located behind the pool loungers. Impact with this retaining wall caused a concussion and damage to my scalp that required more than 50 stitches. However, the retaining wall also saved my life.
During the three-hour ambulance ride to the main hospital in Costa Rica’s capital of San José, my consciousness increased, and I slowly morphed back into an average person aware of most of what was going on around me — except I was filled with unbelievable happiness. As I grilled my husband for details of what had occurred, I slowly realized how fortunate I had been.
The tree would have most definitely crushed me if it were not for that retaining wall. When the force of the tree knocked me to the ground, the tree itself came to rest with one end at the far side of the pool and the other end elevated approximately 2 feet on the edge of that wall. My body lay crumpled beneath the tree, and other than my initial hand-to-hand combat with this massive slice of nature, I was not touched by the tree directly.
Upon arriving at the hospital, still in my bathing suit with my head wrapped in numerous bandages, I looked at my husband with my blood and vomit on his shirt and realized how bad the situation must have been for my family. From across the emergency room, I could see my three children peeking out through an examination room door where they, too, were getting checked out. I did not imagine the terror they must have felt at this time because I was so filled with joy. I had been through an amazing experience that included a grand re-entry after going to a very uncertain place.
As I was being wheeled somewhat naked into emergency surgery (after having my bathing suit cut off of my body), I was asked by the nurse if I was afraid. I clearly remember telling her that I was happy. Maybe this was the concussion talking, but I truly felt overjoyed to be still able to wave to my family across the room and experience this soul-filling bliss.
My life could have ended abruptly that day, but by either sheer luck or the grace of God, I was granted another day. I think about that moment eight years ago every single today, and I am thankful to be able to do so. I was a good person before, so the incident did not cause a sudden revelation and promise to myself to be better, or nicer, or to stop wasting time, or any of the things people who are given a second chance may say to themselves. I do think about how re-entering this world as the person I’ve always been has caused me to think about my time on earth in a different way. I want to be sure I give all that I have before my time is up. The thing is that none of us knows when that will be. We may be old and battling chronic illness and thinking that death is an attractive alternative. We may be doing something as simply walking across the street, swimming in the ocean, or working at a desk. We may be sitting by a pool reading a book on a beautiful day when something uncontrollable happens in our environment, or an unrecognized or unresolved condition in our body causes our end much quicker than we could have ever planned.
I do not know how much time I have left. A tree could fall on me today as I sit outside writing. I could live to be 110. We do not know how many days or months we have left but must appreciate every minute and every day. My re-entry into this world from an unconscious, unknowing place is a blessing for which I will be forever thankful.
Note: The title is a line from Eminem’s Lose Yourself. The line and the title both seemed oddly appropriate for this article.
