Out of Nothingness

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The banner photo is of me before the accident

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The banner photo is of me before the accident. The lower photo is of me afterwards. The hunting trip was a nightmare for me out in the woods, carrying a cane, and trying to hunt, but it was nice of John to get me out, and back into the great outdoors.


Out of nothingness comes awareness, and I'm myself, once again. I don't remember the thirteen hours before the accident, and I don't remember much of the ninth through twelfth days of semi-consciousness. Curt said that when I was in a semiconscious state it was very difficult for him to hear. He said that I screamed like a wild animal, and each scream would send chills up and down his spine. Curt by that time was a mortician by trade, and he said that he could imagine lowering my casket into the cold earth, and he regretted not getting to know me better. To him, I was that little nuisance running around his feet always pestering him. My memories started again when I was in a regular room, and the other bits and pieces of memory returned slowly, such as what they now call a near death experience (NDE) where I "crossed over" to the other side, but I will talk about that later in another part. The first thing I remembered was Mom said, "Olan," nurses and even my parents were told to always say my name. "Olan, you've been in a terrible accident. You've wrecked Walt's van, but you're okay now.

The first thing I thought was, oh no, Walt is dead. I killed my brother, and they're not mentioning him. I manage to ask, "Is Walt okay?" At that point I know basically nothing other than who I was and who Mom and Dad are, plus I had a brother named Walt, school, friends, hometown meant nothing to me, I lived in the now. I was blind, barely able to talk and totally paralyzed on my right side. Everything else had to be relearned or remembered in time. Mom said, "Walt is fine. He wasn't with you. You were driving alone. Now, I think, oh God, I've killed someone else, and they aren't going to tell me. I didn't ask the question, but Mom said, "No one else was injured." A relief settled over me, and I drifted to sleep. My memory drifts in and out for more days until I start physical therapy. I do remember screaming at the nurses and aids, pushing at the button with my left hand, and they'd come to me, and I couldn't talk, because the right side of my tongue and face were paralyzed. They'd get frustrated and then left the room, most of the time. Usually I pushed it, because I wanted water. One aid came in and I grabbed her name badge pinned to her left breast, pulled it up close to my left eye, to read her name. I'm totally blind, and I only see light and shapes, but I manage to read the name Denice. To ask what I want. I tried to say Denice, and all that came out was iceiceiceiceice,... So, guess what I get? I get ice, but no hard consonants would form. I didn't want ice, most likely I wanted to be changed or wanted plain water, but I got ice. I had more ice than I could handle. Most of my speech sounded like this, "Wahwahawaha." In uncontrolled, very fast strings of sound, it was frustrating to no end, for once that tongue got to moving it wouldn't stop.

My friends, John and Clyde, came to visit me. I barely remember who they were, and I can't see them, but it was awkward. Clyde said, "Bob Gibson finally pitched a no hitter, and there was a mention of an Apollo mission to the moon. I think, who cares, I had more important things to think about. He was being kind. It's hard to know what to say in a situation like this. I remember a lot of people visiting. Cousins, and family, plus when I got home a box full of get well cards from all over the US. People had been praying for me in all denominations, and many different religions.

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