Our Miracle

Lana J. Thompson, my wife of twelve years was an artist, writer and poet, and had been very ill with acute myelogenous leukemia. Her symptoms started nearly three years ago but her first bone marrow biopsy proved negative. She had no definitive diagnosis until early January of this year. She died on November 2, at the M. D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas. Twenty-four days earlier she had had a bone marrow transplant but it did not regenerate. They could not keep blood in her; even daily platelet infusions were no help. Her blood simply would not clot.

I held her hand as her heart beat for the very last time and she breathed her last breath. It is not altogether a sad story, in fact we did get a miracle it just wasn’t the one we were looking for. At 2:30 Sunday morning the 1st of November while I was at home in La Grange, Texas and in bed asleep I had a vision. Lana had been in room 23 in the C pod on the seventh floor of the hospital, the ICU floor. Her room was the first room you see as you come around the corner from the “F” elevators and look into the C pod. All of the rooms have patio doors so that the end of each room is glass to make it easy for the nurses to read the monitors without coming into the rooms. What I saw in my vision was light—ten times brighter than daylight streaming from her room. I knew that angels had come to escort her spirit up out of her body. As soon as daylight came I drove to Houston which is two hours away. The first person I spoke with was the RN on duty in her room. She was not busy and we spoke for half an hour. I told her of my vision. During the next two hours twelve to fifteen MDs and RNs wanted to speak with me concern “end of life issues”. A Chaplin also wanted to see my legal papers, medical power of attorney etc. Every thing was in order. Their decision Sunday was to give Lana another five days so I came back to La Grange.

The next morning at 10:30 I got a call on my cell phone from her transplant surgeon Dr. Ciurea. He said to come back to Houston as soon as possible. I arrived at 12:45. The same RN was attending Lana and made the comment, “Mr. Mole do your remember the story you told me yesterday about what you had seen. The ventilator (the machine which was assisting her to breath and which is a computer and has a monitor) recorded the time you said as the time your wife could no longer breathe on her own. After you left yesterday your wife had a CT scan of her head and it showed swelling in her brain.” In other words, Lana became brain dead at 2:30 Sunday morning.

During the next hour and a half I talked with all the people involved in the process of “termination of life supports”. Finally I was connected to an MD by phone who said that all I need to do was to say yes to terminate life supports and Lana would be put on “comfort care” only. That involves only a sedative and pain killer. Lana had been on dialysis and that was the first things to be disconnected. With that done I was able to go and stand next to Lana’s bed and hold her hand. Over the next 20 minutes the RN disconnected the 22 IVs which were on three stands, and then she left the room. The monitor above her bed was displaying her pulse which initially registered 64 beats per minute. Every minute the number was one less: 63, 62, 61, 60. When it fell to 32 the next reading was 0. I noted the time, 15:33. One minute later the RN came back into room and said, “Mr. Mole your wife has just died.” I waited another minute then left the Lana’s room.

Of all the people I spoke with during those two days none thought I was a crackpot or some kind of weirdo. Basically what I had done was to tell all of them when Lana had actually died. The machines simply kept her body alive for another 37 hours. Life supports were terminated at 2:45pm and it took only 48 minutes for her to pass away.

I am a classical music fan and had been a Chicago Symphony Orchestra season ticket holder for many years. Concerts are rebroadcast on the internet and the radio every week. A week earlier I had recorded one from the internet at cso.org but had forgotten what I had recorded. It was a two CD set, a recreation for the very first concert ever held in Orchestra Hall, Chicago one hundred years ago. When I went to Houston Monday morning I played the first CD and all but ten minutes of the second. Ten minutes after Lana died I left the hospital and began driving towards the freeway. Just as I reached it what should come next as the final selection of this concert but Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus from Messiah. I played it over and over for the next two hours about 24 times.

The sun began to set as I neared Columbus, Texas. There were no clouds in the sky and it was a perfect day. The sunset stretched for miles across the vast Texas landscape. When I turned off interstate 10 towards La Grange I looked over to the right to see the most beautiful perfect full harvest moon which had just come up over the horizon. It was glorious! What this meant to me was that all creation was celebrating for Lana. She didn’t just get some old spare parts from another woman to keep her going for a while but a whole new body.

Joe