90 Minutes in Heaven_ A True Story of Death & Life - Don Piper [19]
Memories filled my mind, and I yearned to stand at that gate once again. “Please, God.”
God’s answer to that prayer was “no.”
When David entered my room, I was disoriented from the pain and the medication. I was so out of it that first I had to establish in my mind that he was real. Am I hallucinating this? I asked myself.
Just then, David took my fingers, and I felt his touch. Yes, he was real.
He clasped my fingers because that was all he could hold. I had so many IVs that my veins had collapsed; I had a trunk line that went into my chest and directly to my heart. I used to think of my many IVs as soldiers lined up. I even had IVs in the veins in the tops of my feet. I could look down and see them and realize they’d put needles in my feet because there was no place left on my body.
“You’re going to make it,” David said. “You have to make it. You’ve made it this far.”
“I don’t have to make it. I’m not sure . . . I . . . I don’t know if I want to make it.”
“You have to. If not for yourself, then hold on for us.”
“I’m out of gas,” I said. “I’ve done all I can. I’ve given it all I can. I don’t have anything else to give.” I paused and took several breaths, because even to say two sentences sapped an immense amount of energy.
“You have to make it. We won’t let you go.”
“If I make it, it’ll be because all of you want it. I don’t want it. I’m tired. I’ve fought all I can and I’m ready to die.”
“Well, then you won’t have to do a thing. We’ll do it for you.”
Uncomprehending, I stared at the intensity on his face.
“We won’t let you die. You understand that, Don? We won’t let you give up.”
“Just let me go—”
“No. You’re going to live. Do you hear that? You’re going to live. We won’t let you die.”
“If I live,” I finally said, “it’ll be because you want me to.”
“We’re going to pray,” he said. Of course, I knew people had been praying already, but he added, “We’re going to pray all night. I’m going to call everybody I know who can pray. I want you to know that those of us who care for you are going to stay up all night in prayer for you.”
“Okay.”
“We’re going to do this for you, Don. You don’t have to do anything.”
I really didn’t care whether they prayed or not. I hurt too badly; I didn’t want to live.
“We’re taking over from here. You don’t have to do a thing—not a thing—to survive. All you have to do is just lie there and let it happen. We’re going to pray you through this.”
He spoke quietly to me for what was probably a minute or two. I don’t think I said anything more. The pain intensified—if that was possible—and I couldn’t focus on anything else he said.
“We’re going to take care of this.” David kissed me on the forehead and left.
An all-night prayer vigil ensued. That vigil marked a turning point in my treatment and another series of miracles.
The pneumonia was gone the next day. They prayed it away. And the medical staff discovered the error with the breathing tube.
On that seventh day, in another long surgery, Dr. Greider installed the Ilizarov device so that I could sit up and receive
Don wearing the Ilizarov bone growth device.
breathing treatments. They also deflated my stomach, which allowed my lungs to inflate.
Normally, hospitals require six months of counseling before they will authorize the use of the Ilizarov frame. In my case, the medical staff could give Eva no guarantee that the experimental procedure would work. They also told her that using the Ilizarov frame would cause me considerable physical pain as well as extraordinary emotional and psychological distress. Worse, they warned that even after going through all of that, I might still lose my leg.
“This is extremely painful and takes months—maybe years—to recover,” the surgeon said to Eva. Again he reminded her of the worst that could happen—that I might still lose the