I have entitled it......Almost to Heaven On My Harley......I would like you to entitle it the same......Thanks.
Have you ever heard a story that sounds like it's just out of this world? Well that is exactly where I was when this episode took place (out of this world) I went to a place that I now call the spirit world. It was January 1998 - I was riding my Harley and was run over by a truck. Life flight to hospital in San Diego. Medical reports say that I had to be revived three times along the way. I suffered from Fifty-six broken bones, a collapsed lung, a closed head injury; I had broken my jaw off its hinges, also cracking it, lost teeth and lacerated my tongue, causing me to drown in my own blood. I remained in a coma for the better part of three months.
I explain the coma this way because that is how it was. I didn't just one day wake up as if I had been sleeping. After a few weeks of being out. I started to come and go. This went on for quite some time. As the Doctors also kept me in a drug induced coma. What you are about to read is exactly the way it happened to the best of my recollection. And I recall it very well. Nothing will be added as to make for a better story, or to make my experience coincide with others. I didn’t see any bright lights, tunnel, or here any beautiful music, no clouds, glitter or gold. But then again, maybe I wasn’t headed in that direction! ~ Although a very large hospital, it's tucked away in the back of residential a neighborhood. You only pass by if that's where you’re going. The Hospital is kind of the neighborhood’s dead end. I am positive that I had never been to or by the Hospital prior to this experience. I also was unconscious when flown in by life flight. Besides, the heliport landing-pad is on the roof and you then enter from the roof in to the trauma area. This is all a very important factor in my story.
My room 734 was in the front of the hospital on the seventh floor. The window overlooked the front concrete courtyard type of main entrance that is covered by a weather shield type of roof. The roof blocked the view from my window, to the entrance. My body could not make it to the window. Every time I would seem to wake up, I would learn of yet another injury. Then I would return to the place that I hung out - "The front courtyard" I found myself out there as if I had a friend who was a hurt patient inside. I was waiting to see if he was going to make it or not. Although I knew that the friend was me. There was another guy hanging out there with me. But we both just kept to ourselves. At the time, I figured he was on the same boat as me. (so to speak) and I really didn't pay him much attention. I was out there for what seemed to be at least three days or so. At night, I would go hang out in a small outside corridor across the lawn. Just to the right of the front entrance. I don't know where the other guy went at night. But he was always in the courtyard at daytime. Often I would go look in the window at my broken body lying in the bed. It was like watching a movie. I was not seeing my body go to the window. Only the view zoom up there and focus in.
Returning to the courtyard, I would review my life. Thinking about other close calls I have had over the years and friends that had died at a much younger age. I was now 40 and my Father died at 32. I was 8 when he died. I remember thinking that I have had a much longer life than they did. I also remember thinking that I didn't have 6 kids and a wife depending on me. At the time, I was recently divorced with one Daughter age 7. My ex-wife made very good money and they really didn't need me financially. I was deciding whether I wanted to live or die. Because for some unknown reason I seemed to have a choice.
On about the third day the other guy in the courtyard came face to face with me. He looked me in the eye and said. Well George, what are you going to do? It was then that I realized this guy was God, or someone from his department. Perhaps my Father although he didn't look like the few pictures that I have seen. I almost went but the thought of leaving my daughter (who I adore) and loves her Daddy very much, stopped me. I just didn't want her to grow up without her Dad. Not if I had any say in it. And apparently I did have a say. I also knew from this guy that I would recover. He didn't say anything at all besides (Well George, what are you going to do) But I somehow knew that I would get better. I also knew that it was going to take a very, very long time.
We spoke to each other through mental telepathy or something like that. So I told him that I wanted to stay. I also told him that I drink too much and I didn't want to go back to that way of life. He never answered me on that one. That was the last time I would see this guy. Although I have a feeling that I will someday see him again. I returned to my body with great force. The reason I say that is. My body was on the operating table having yet another surgery. When I woke completely up. I said something. Then I heard Doctor say. He can't feel anything. I then proceeded to tell them that they were working on my right leg, near my shin, way deep inside. The room became silent. I then remember just the anesthesia doctor and myself. I was begging him to put me back out. After what seemed to be a long time, he did.
My friend Richard was up visiting one night and I was starting to wake up a lot by now. Richard said he was going outside to smoke. I had been a smoker before the accident myself. So I said take me with you. I haven't had a cigarette in ages. I really just wanted to get out of that bed. I knew if anyone was going to help me, it would be Richard. He and Spivey came to visit a lot and if I were smoking, I would get to go outside a lot. So Richard got a wheelchair, picked me up, put me in it and off we went. Down the elevator and out the front door, Straight ahead about 30 or 40 feet then stooped and locked my chair break. Now my jaw was broken and my teeth wired shut. But, I tried to act as if I was enjoying the cigarette so as to get to come back. When we finished smoking and it was time to go back in. Richard turned me around facing the front door, and courtyard. Seeing the place where I hung out, and where the other guy stood, even the outside corridor were I went at night. I said Son Of A Bitch, That Was Real. Only then did I realize that my memories were not a dream. And I told Richard the whole story. Shortly after that Richard said, “We’re going to have to start calling you “Bones”. Spivey said, “you had nothing to worry about. Only the good die young.” And I knew that I was going to recover. And I knew it was going to take a very, very long time.
In closing I will tell you that I went two and a half years without having a drink "at all." Now I only drink like a gentleman. What I mean by that is that there is a six-pack of Bud in my fridge that I bought a month ago. It still has one or two bottles left. My Daughter Krysten is doing great and lives with her Dad half of the time. I have had 43 surgical procedures over the past 37 months. The most recent was six weeks ago. I still have all my body parts accept for a few teeth that were replaced. I know that this is just part of that very, very long time. Krysten is ten now and I'm looking forward to someday giving her away at her wedding. And like the song says. I could have missed the pain. But I'd of had to miss " THE DANCE " - Bones