What almost dying taught me about hope and joy

Do you find yourself thinking about death? For the last year or more, I have been thinking about it daily. Not in an existential dread kind of way, but more in the “what would happen if I died” kind of way. I thought a lot about the logistics of running our home, helping our adult children with disabilities, helping our 9-year-old and even funeral planning if I or my husband and I died. I thought it was because, at age 59, I’m getting older and that’s what older people do.

And then I almost died.

It’s weird to write those words, but weirder still to have been hit suddenly by a serious medical crisis that could have taken my life.

On Saturday, March 2, I had been dizzy all day, so I rested in bed until the dizziness caused overwhelming nausea. I began to vomit blood — copious amounts of it. Turns out at least one of the two ulcers I didn’t know I had opened a vein and began dumping blood into my stomach. I ended up flat on my bathroom floor, with all color and all muscle tone gone from my body. I couldn’t even open my eyes. Probably through sheer force of will, I did not quite lose consciousness. I was afraid if I did, I wouldn’t wake up.

My daughter called 911, and while we waited I continued to vomit all over the floor. My husband was crying, my kids were crying, my daughter couldn’t find my blood pressure, and it was getting dicey so very quickly. I remember saying out loud “I’m not ready to die.” After an ambulance ride to the hospital, more vomiting, blood transfusions, multiple abdominal scopes and five days in an ICU, plus an additional one in a regular hospital room, I was able to come home. Recovery has been slower than I’d like, with more ups and downs than I had hoped.

Through it all, though, I have one overwhelming emotion.

Gratitude

I am just so grateful that I have a little longer on this earth. So grateful that I have more time with our sweet 9-year-old, more time with my husband, more time with my adult children and grandchildren, and yes, more time to prepare for when I’m not brought back from the brink.

I am grateful for the family, friends, co-workers and neighbors who reached out to check on us, to feed us, to come listen to me share my scary story and who have sent love and prayers by the ton. (We also learned we have no phone tree in place for times of emergency. It’s now on the list.)

I am so, SO grateful that I had access to quick, life-saving care, from emergency responders, to the emergency room, to intensive care, to blood donors who helped save my life. There are practically endless scenarios under which that medical emergency would have had a different outcome. I am also particularly mindful of those who do not have access to such care, or for whom such care was not able to save their loved one’s life. My heart is with you.

As a woman of deep faith, I am also grateful for a strong belief that this life is only Act II of a three-act play. I am grateful for family relationships that will continue beyond this life. I have children on the other side, and I look forward to a joyful reunion with them and other loved ones who have gone before me. Just not quite yet.

Almost dying also reminded me of two things I had nearly forgotten.

Hope and joy

I’ll be honest. It’s been hard to find either hope or joy in the world recently. Our family, like many families, has experienced the deep heartache of grief, the havoc that can come from mental illness, betrayal, misrepresentation, financial struggles, health struggles and more.

Politics has become a blood sport, rife with contempt, cruelty and demonizing those who disagree in the slightest. In the United States, and yes, even in Utah, we too often struggle against racism, domestic violence, child abuse and mental health assaults from many fronts. There are a number of organizations trying to ratchet down the heat, but too often, to me at least, it feels like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon.

On the international stage, war abounds in a tragic, unnecessary and ongoing loss of human life. Famine, drought, pestilence, forced displacement — it all feels apocalyptic and so, so big that I’ve been bordering on hopelessness. That’s not normally like me, but the weight of it all has been dragging me down.

My close call gave me a much-needed reset.

I am, by nature and experience, resilient. I can have hope. I can have joy. And I can make a difference, even if it’s just one teaspoon at a time.

For me, recent events have been a call to deepen my faith, deepen my spiritual understanding, deepen my relationships and deepen my commitment to serve others.

Like the ancient prophet Nephi, “I glory in my Jesus.” I have spent my entire life trying to be like Him. My love of and faith in Jesus Christ undergirds and overarches all that I do. I’m also most grateful for the opportunity to repent and try again when I don’t get it right.

The restorer of the church I belong to, Joseph Smith, taught that it is our responsibility “to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to provide for the widow, to dry up the tear of the orphan, to comfort the afflicted, whether in this church or in any other, or in no church at all, wherever he finds them.” I also believe that “all are alike unto God,” and that the love of our Heavenly Parents is expansive, covering the whole world and all of their children. Those statements could sum up my public policy stances. I want to love God and love my neighbor. I don’t care if you look like me, believe like me, have the same socio-economic background as me, were born in the same country as me — you are my neighbor.

I also want more joy in my life. Joy is my middle name. You would think I would be better at finding it than I am. President Russell M. Nelson of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints said in October 2016 that “the joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.” I’ve been trying to figure out the “how” ever since.

Easter

This week, the Christian world celebrates Holy Week, from Palm Sunday to the Last Supper, the Garden of Gethsemane to the Crucifixion and finally to His glorious resurrection on Easter Sunday. Because of Him, all wrongs will be made right. Because of Him, death is not the end. Because of Him, sorrow will not last forever. Because of Him, I will see my children again. Because of Him, they will see me again. Because of Him, peace will once again be on the earth. Because of Him, I can have hope. Because of Him, I will have joy.

He is Risen. Let the whole wide earth rejoice.