Heart Stopping, No?

Have you ever almost died?

Neither had I, until September 28, 2012.

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That week was busy, as had been the week before that. And the week before that. And the week before that. If I was honest, it had kind of felt like I'd been on a treadmill forever. It wasn't like it was a bad kind of busy, in the traditional sense. I was busy with school, church, and music, all the good stuff. Well, part of the good stuff. The thing was, I'd begun to lose sight of the real reason I did the things that I did. Instead of spending time reading the word, I would play my guitar. Instead of spending time talking about what God was doing with my friends, we would play video games. God had faded to a secondary, and I came to on Sunday, September 23rd. There was a spiritual refreshing at church that Sunday. This realization had been festering in the back of my mind for at least a week. I knew there was no way I could afford to keep going like I did. Yet, Monday rolled around, and I fell into the same old routine...

The week passed pretty smoothly, busy, but not bad. Meet You At The Pole was on Friday, an opportunity that Christians in my school were taking advantage of by getting to school early and praying together. Haleigh, the one heading up the effort, asked if I could lead a song in worship on the guitar that morning. I gladly agreed, not really thinking about it only realizing later I was having my wisdom teeth removed on Thursday. It was really a blessing, because I was supposed to need braces, but my teeth somehow self-corrected, but now I needed my wisdom teeth removed. That Wednesday I left school telling them I'd be there tomorrow morning to lead worship. Some of them seemed doubtful, but I was sure that I'd be able to do it. 

The next morning I woke up, doing some homework for an hour or two, then my mom called me, "Stevie, we need to go." I jumped, it's not like I didn't already know that. The two of us got into the car and she drove me down the street to the oral surgery place.

"Mom, make sure to video me, just in case I do or say something really stupid when I wake up." The two of us walked into the office and I was somewhat nervous, but more calm than I would have expected, considering they were planning to remove pieces of my mouth. 

"Alright, I will," she said, taking the Flip camera from me. I sat, twiddling my thumbs while I waited for them to call me.

"Stephen Parris?"

That's not my name, I thought to myself for a second, waiting for her to say Stevie. Then grinned and said, "Yes?"

"Please follow me." The nurse said to me and then lead me back into a room that had that stale "this is a doctor's office" smell that I've never been able to place anywhere else in the universe. I felt a needle prick my skin as she injected me to knock me out, saying that I would be knocked out by the count of ten. It's all a little blurry after that, but I'm preeetty sure I made it to twelve though.

The next thing I knew, I was coming out of my stupor. Everything was a little blurry, but other than that I was entirely lucid. I frowned, discovering swaths of white gauze in my mouth. How disappointing, I was looking forward to loopy Stevie video, then just shrugged, or whatever you'd call it when you're laying down. "I'm awake," I said, but it came out all muffled because of the gauze. Plus, it appeared I didn't quite have complete control of my body yet. I looked over at my mom, she had camera, which merely reminded me how disappointing this was. "You can put it away," I said, which came out sounding like, "Yuckun puttaway." After a minute or two of recovery, I was well enough to walk, so we made our way to the car, and my mom drove me home. When we reached the house, I collapsed on the couch, figuring another hour or two of recovery was probably called for. I only stayed put for about half an hour though, then walked to my desk, feeling pretty well recovered. Also, the gauze in my mouth was driving me insane. I locked into some Calculus, forgetting about the annoying pieces of tissue in my mouth...

A few hours later it was lunch time, my mom volunteered to make me some mac n cheese, so I took her up on that offer. She was talking with my sister Noele in the kitchen. So, apparently when part of your mouth is removed, you aren't allowed to eat solids. Go figure. Anyway, I gobbled down the delicious tasting boxed Craft macaroni and cheese, always a favorite, until I was about half way through the bowl when I felt a catch in the back of my mouth. One of the little noodles had made its way into the crevice in my gum. I frowned, unwilling to dig out my gums to get this noodle out. Then I had a brilliant idea, I began to get flossing picks to pull the noodle out, and then my mom stopped me.

"Stevie, you can't use that, you'll make your gums start bleeding," she said giving me "the look." The one that says, you're being stupid again, stop. "If you go down to the place where you had them removed, they should be able to safely get it out."

"Fiine," I said, putting away the sharpened flossing picks, still trying to get the noodle out with my tongue. "I'll go right now."

I slipped on my shoes and went out the door with a "Be right back."

It was a pretty nice day for a walk. The road off our house would have been pretty busy, but it was around noon on a Thursday, which meant traffic was pretty minimal. The air felt nice, and as a result, I was feeling pretty good. I reached the office and opened the door with my hand and pushed it open, reaching for the second door, I pushed it open. As I shifted my weight, my knees crumbled and I grabbed for the door handle, holding myself upright by latching onto it. I righted myself, and walked inside. Hmm, the anesthesia must not have worn off completely yet, I thought. The doctor inside was very helpful, giving me a thing that looked like a turkey baster that helped push things out of my gums when I squeezed water into them. I made the walk back with no problems. Must have just been a fluke, I thought to myself, shrugging it off. I walked back in the door.

"Hey, I need to go to Paoli to drive Grandma something from the hospital." At least, she said something like that. I nodded my head as the rest of the information floated past me. "I'll be back in a couple hours," she said, grabbing her red jacket and putting it on.

"Alright," I said. I'd already locked back into homework.

After an hour or two of homework, I felt myself begin to get tired. My wrists had been acting up too. They didn't seem to want to bend properly and my fingers felt a little bit dexterous than usual. I decided it was officially time for a nap but as I walked past the kitchen counter I realized my sister had left something at my house. Figuring to give it back to her, I decided to go next door and drop it off. When I reached her doorstep, I went to climb the couple of steps between me and the door and fell forward, my knees buckling. I caught myself just in time, and was back on my feet in a minute. I opened the door, sharing the event with my sister, she seemed concerned but I told her not to worry about. I then made my way back to my house, and then marched over to the couch and flopped onto it. I was out in a matter of minutes.

I awoke feeling strange, my dog moaning because he needed to use the great outdoors. I moved my wrists immediately, and the movement problems had gotten much worse. I pushed off the hardwood floor, and my muscles just blanched, as if to say, "forget it man, you're not going anywhere." Pushing off the couch, I was able to push myself to my feet and then walk over to my office chair, completely ignoring my dogs complaints. I sat down, and got to work. I pushed down the keys, and as long as my wrists were resting on the keyboard, they were fine. Bending back my fingers, I felt the strength leave them. I could only push, not pull. Similarly, my wrists could push forward but they couldn't pull backward. If I can only wait for my mom to get home, then she figure out what's going on. She should be home any time now, I reasoned. My dog's moans turned to barks.

"Dagnabit dog," I complained, pushing myself to my feet, to let him out. There's no way I'm going to be able to clip that leash on him. Fortunately, Rhodie didn't take much pleasure in running away. He liked people too much for that. I managed to get the door open, and he pushed past me. I made my way to the couch, leaving the door open until he had completed he finished his tactical maneuvers. When he returned, I pushed myself to my feet. It was getting harder. I made my way to the dining room and headed for the couch. Alternating between looking at the clock and flipping wrists up and down. She should be here soon. After about a half an hour, seeing my mom's phone across the room, I decided I needed to find my cell phone so I could call her. Not like I didn't know her number or anything, but for some reason, I really felt the need to find my phone. I went over to my mom's phone I called my phone, unsure where it was hiding. The ringing seemed like it was coming from the couch. I needed to call her now. I went over to the couch. I was pretty sure it was coming from beneath it, but the couch had that weird hanging fabric designed to stop you from finding things. I lowered myself to the floor, reaching under with no success. It was at this precise moment that my sister Noele decided to walk in the door to check up on me. Of course, seeing me on the floor, just kind of laying there, she freaked out. "Stevie! Are you okay!"

"Well, kind of. I feel super weak, and I can't find my phone." I pointed under the couch.

"You do not look good. I'm calling Mom." She said, pulling me to my feet, and assisting me to the couch.

"Fine, but could you find my phone first?" I had begun searching for this phone and I'd be darned if I wasn't going to find it. She dialed it, then pulled out from beneath the couch cushion. A classic phone hiding location. I should have known. She then made me go over all my symptoms, from weakened legs to wrists and fingers, etc. She grew more panicked by the second as I told her about my growing paralysis. 

"I thought it was just the anesthesia side effects at first, but things have been getting worse, so I'm pretty sure that's not it." I tried to point, but my wrist wouldn't co-operate. Traitor.

"Mom..." My sister began, calling ourmother to inform her that her youngest son was experiencing paralytic symptoms. "She said I should I take you to the ER and we'll meet up there."

"Okay," I said, shrugging. At least I think I was shrugging. It was getting a little hard to tell.

"I'll be right back; I'm going to get Dan so he can help carry you to the car." She said, concern radiating from blue eyes, pushing her hair behind her ear. A nervous habit, I'm sure. "Just stay right here."

"Haha, good one." I said as she fled out the door, running to get my brother-in-law, her husband. I don't think she got it.

In a minute, Dan was helping me into their car, and before I knew it, we were out Delaware County Memorial Hospital. A wheelchair was wheeled around for me, and I was helped into it. They wheeled me into the ER, where I was left temporarily to watch Big Bang Theory on the ER television while I messed with the wheelchair. I grinned, I probably wouldn't even be allowed this at home. At least, not officially.

In a short time, I was surrounded by family members of various ages and sizes, retelling my "tale of woe." Then my name was called for the ER room and they wheeled me inside. I was thoroughly enjoying the wheelchair. Inside, a big dude in blue scrubs began the regular checkup. He began taking my blood pressure, and as he did that, I felt myself grow slightly nauseous, like I was about to black out. He hurriedly put his stethoscope in his ears and pressed the cold metal object to my chest. I heard a loud ripping sound as the man ripped the blood pressure cuff from my arm and began pushing me back into the emergency room shouting for help.

The world had grown black, and I felt my hearing begin to fade too, like everything was coming from another room. This could be the end, I somehow knew it. I remember thinking:

Hey God... If you're ready to take me home, I'm ready to go. Your will be done, not mine. There's a lot of things I'd like to do still, I mean *mental laugh* I'd like to get married, but if it's time God... I'm ready.

I sat, waiting too see what would happen, and felt myself being laid down on a bed, and immediately felt myself start to come to. People moved around me in a flurry of blue scrubs. A doctor offered me a pill. "It's potassium, it should help make you feel better." I gladly took it and lay back, feeling my color begin to return within the next few minutes.

"You look better," my dad told me. I smiled responding with some quirky joke. We made small talk until a guy came in with a woman to give me an IV. Apparently he was teaching the woman how to give an IV. Sure, use me as a guinea pig. 

The man explained, "You have to make sure you get a larger artery or it can be extremely difficult." Taking the needle, he slipped it into my arm and I winced from pain. After a moment, he frowned, and then started to pull it out again. He explain, "Sometimes it's hard to get it on the first try." It took all my will power not to scream at the guy. He then repeated the process once more before getting it right. This is so not cool. Eventually, I was settled and they deemed me stable. Now they just had to figure out what happened. A nurse came in promising that I would be given a cat scan, which lead me to make lots of puns. I could see from my families expressions they were worried, so I tried to lighten the mood.

 It was then that I remembered I was in the middle of the blog challenge. 

"OH. Dad, can you take a picture of this and post it on my blog for the blog challenge?" I asked. He took out his phone and took the picture on the left and posted it. Now I thought it was funny, but apparently it scared some of my friends. The picture on the right is me not-being-weird.

Later that evening I was transferred to Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, better known as CHOP. They told me I was just young enough for them to able to care for me. Over the next day I regained my strength, receiving much love and care from friends and family. Somewhere during the night I began to regain control of my movement. The doctor's diagnosed it as one of two things, either I have genetic disorder known as "Hypokalemic Paralysis Disorder" or the anesthetics I was given was bad. The first is caused by a combination of several different elements. If the person is placed under physical stress, given an anesthetic, and is also fasting it causes the potassium levels to drop dramatically, and potassium helps regulate the heart, which would explain the paralysis. It's super rare though, which is why I tend to lend myself toward the latter train of thought. Also, at that time there were references to bad anesthetics being given in the news. 

In any case, my parents brought me my laptop, where I wrote a poem called "And Then The Rain Came" that I am extremely proud of to this day. In my senior year of highschool, I revised and rewrote it to a point where I consider it one of my greatest works. It chronicles more of the emotional response to the events, as well as how God used these events to show me that it was time to slow down, to stop the hurry and give myself back to Him. Obviously, God still wants to be here, otherwise I would be long gone. I eagerly anticipate that time, in the meantime, doing my utmost to glorify Him and give my all to Him. 

And Then The Rain Came.

http://afewbrilliantideas.blogspot.com/2013/06/and-then-rain-came.html

Soli Deo Gloria,

Stevie Parris