As I've written before, my wife passed away about six months ago. I've been keen on seeing signs that she's still a part of my life, in any way, and
I've seen a few instances. One thing that makes me a little more sure of it is the impeccable timing of some of these seemingly random coincidences.
Yesterday morning is a good example, I'd like to hear what you all think.
I have a number of chronic health problems for a 47 year old (I blame them all on flu shots, lol) and one is a bad back, the result of an injury when
I was about 20. This manifests itself in two ways -- commonly, I have a sore upper back that waxes and wanes, but is generally held in check with
monthly chiropractic visits. I'm not a fan of claims that spinal adjustment can cure disease, but it certainly helps my back pain.
The second issue that I have is a sudden, mind numbingly painful spasm of all of the muscles on the right side of my back. This happens very rarely
-- the last time was about two years ago, but it is crippling. On that last occasion, I physically collapsed on the floor, unable to move without
searing pain, and my wife Patti had to come in and effectively pick me up. I wound up at the doctor's and he gave me a bottle of Vicodin, because
there's not much else that they can do for that sort of thing.
This Sunday morning, as I'm getting ready for church, I leaned over to put on my socks, must have twisted a little bit, and that muscle spasm starts.
First thing I think is "I am alone now, and if I fall down, I'm going to be in big trouble" and so I very gingerly straightened up, and the spasms
quieted down somewhat and eventually stopped of their own accord. My back still hurt a lot (think about how your leg feels after a muscle cramp has
stopped) but I was able to continue on with my day, and Monday I went to the chiropractor, who checked things over and pronounced me fit.
So yesterday morning (Tuesday), I came in from my morning walk with the dog, and needed to clean up his paws, which were wet and covered with leaves.
As I bent down to do so, the full onset of back spasms hit. I fell to my knees, and again, tried to figure out how I was going to get out of this --
every movement and flex that involved by back, neck or head brought on excruciating pain. It was far worse than Sunday, but I was determined to get
Finally, after a bit of trying, I was able to get back on my feet, and went upstairs to take one of those Vicodin pills that I had left over from two
years before. Previous bouts had taught me that lying down is a bad idea, because it is almost impossible to stand up again, so I decided to go back
downstairs to my office and sit at my desk until the pain pill took hold. I was able to do so, but the pain was getting worse by the minute. To try
and get my mind off of it, I stuck to my morning routine, which is to read a devotional, spend time in prayer, and then "talk" to my wife.
Now, another one of those chronic health problems that I have is, essentially, a series of degenerative lung diseases that makes respiratory distress
a real problem. Particularly in the past year, I have begun to have breathing problems that compound themselves, and require a real effort to break
out of. As I was finishing my prayers, I began to feel the spasms intensifying when I breathed, making it difficult to maintain measured breathing,
and within seconds, I felt my breathing begin to fail -- gasping for breath, gasping from the pain, gasping, wheezing, well, let's just say it wasn't
going very well as I waited for the pain medication to kick in.
But I tried to get back in control by focusing on a picture of Patti that is on my desk, and a card that she had given me for some occasion sitting
next to it. It didn't work, though, I started crying from the pain, and I know from many episodes of crying in grief that this would make things even
worse, but I couldn't stop.
Finally, through gritted teeth, with searing pain running through my back and my lungs, I wheezed out "Baby, I need you..."
Immediately, the phone rang.
My home phone, which rarely gets used, and never at 8AM. The phone that used to be on the other side of the room, but that I had moved to my desk
about a week ago, now only about a foot from the picture I was focusing on, and that I was able to reach without pain and answer.
It was my daughter, who rarely calls me, and never on that phone. She is at university and texts me quite a bit, but phone calls aren't her thing.
She immediately realized that something was very, very wrong, and was able to get me calmed down and get my breathing back to normal. By the time
that the call was ended, the Vicodin was starting to block the pain and I felt confident that things would be okay, and they were. Before hanging up,
I asked her why she'd called, and she said that she was worried, because she'd been trying to get a hold of me for a couple of days without success.
News to me -- there are no texts or missed calls on my cell phone.
So... either my beloved wife, watching over me; my loving daughter, somehow having insight that I was in distress, or one heck of a coincidence.
There is no way to know what would have happened, had she not called, but I know that I was blessed and comforted by the fact that she did,
particularly that she did at that specific instant.
One thing I don't get, though -- whether it was Patti whispering "Call your Dad" or my daughter sensing that I was in danger, the seeds of this must
have been sown several days ahead of time, for the "I have been trying to get a hold of you" factor. That is puzzling.
edit on 29-9-2010 by adjensen because: Changed subject to fit