Angelic evidence…a thank you note
“the universe is under the control of a loving purpose, and that in the struggle for righteousness man has cosmic companionship (angels). Behind the harsh appearance of the world there is a benign power.”
- Martin Luther King, Jr.
Once, when I was dealing with a serious injury, I think I experienced the divine. The year was 1990. I was in high school and five months into treatment for two broken vertebrea in my neck: C4 and C5. The obvious thing that should stand out here is that I broke my neck and I walked away. Amazing, isn’t it? There is more. The accident happened in December of 1989. I ended up in a complicated neck brace called a Somi-cast. It looked like a fiberglass snare drum harness that went over my shoulders and then had straps that buckled to a chest piece which went to my navel. There were posts that ran up to a support piece at the base of my head and another support which fit under my chin. I went to school wearing that. I had to sleep flat on my back wearing that. Not much fun, but it could have been worse….Ace Halo??
The injury was first treated at a little hospital near my home town. My pediatrician took care of it and said, “you’ll be fine, here is a cervical collar (the ones that whiplash patients wear), follow up with an orthopedic doctor.” I went to a local ortho guy who did some PT which didn’t help the numbness and pain I continued to experience. He sent me to a Neurosurgeon who swore I would die if I walked out his office. An MRI revealed that I had some fragments located within the spinal column that were dangerously close to the cord. He said a nudge from a student in the hall might not do anything to the average kid, but it could kill me. He put me in the Somi thing and wanted to schedule a cervical fusion STAT. I sat there as a 15 year old and listened to the gorey details of such a procedure. I took it all in stride until he said that they would have to shave my head for the ACE Halo brace. That did it. I immediately hated this man from the big, fancy hospital and stubbornly told my Dad that I wanted another opinion…this would be the third one, most people stop at two, right?
My Dad asked the knife-happy neuro doc who else could offer another opinion. The doc acted insulted and stated in a cocky way something like, “well I’m perfectly qualified and have performed many of these operations, but the only other surgeon in the area who has done more would be Dr. Meyer. You will probably not be able to get in to see him as he rarely takes new patients….” blah, blah, blah. My Dad found out that Dr. Meyer was the head doctor in charge of Chicago’s Northwestern Memorial Hospital’s Spinal Trauma Unit. Patients fly into this hospital from all over the world to benefit from their expertise, and in particular (at that time) Dr. Meyer’s expertise. My Dad contacted the office and was told that they would not be able to get me in for an appointment at any time soon. That neurosurgeon in the burbs made it seem like I needed to do something pronto. In the meantime, my parents prayed. My Dad, the hardcore Catholic, went to morning mass daily. My Mom had her lady friends from church do prayer groups. I was mostly tied up in the teenage drama of school and trying to keep the boy that I liked liking me – despite an obvious strain on that relationship (which in hindsight failed for every other reason than a major injury). So, I was removed from religion, which is a shame since I was so obviously in a much better place than many other people would have been had this accident happened to them. The ER doc who had treated me the day I fell said, “You know it is a good thing that you are such a big boned girl because a fall like that would probably have killed, if not paralyzed, anyone else.” I just remember being self-conscious that a doctor was talking about my weight – and it wasn’t like I was obese, just stocky and athletic. But anyways….
So, as the decision about whether or not to schedule this operation loomed, my Dad continued on with his job. One of the places he was preparing a bid for (he is a sales engineer) was Northwestern. He was on the site doing whatever he does on the site and happened to just catch an elevator, you know, when you stick your arm in so that the door opens? He gets in and there is a doc in there. You know where this is going, right? He looked at the name badge and it said Dr. Paul Meyer. My Dad simply said, “Are you the doctor who works on spinal trauma?” He said yes. My Dad said, “can I ask you a quick question? …. My sixteen year old daughter (yeah, my b-day came and went and I couldn’t get my driver’s license for obvious reasons) fell down a staircase and suffered compression fractures on C4 and C5. She has been to several doctors and they all say that she needs a fusion. She wanted one more opinion and we were told you are the best doctor for that. I called and tried to get her an appointment, but we couldn’t get in. What do you know about these fusion procedures? Should we do it?” This amazing guy smiled and told my Dad that he would get me right in. But wait, there’s more.
So, I was excited to see this super nice doctor that my Dad had a good feeling about. The night before my appointment I had a very, very vivid dream which I remember to this day. I was walking down a gray colored hallway and opened a door to an orange colored waiting room. I had on my brace and I knew that I was waiting to see Dr. Meyer. The whole place was orange. There were molded hard plastic orange chairs, orange wallpaper, orange wall art. I sat there and just looked at all the orange. I was alone and there was no one around. It was quiet. Then a guy came through the same door I had come in through. This guy was just some regular looking dude. He was wearing a Harvard sweatshirt that was covered in stains and looked loved, he had on beat up jeans, brown leather flip flops, and his hair would be best described as Jesus hair. It is was a shaggy long, brown hippy look with a goatie. He sat down across from me and just looked at me a little. He said, “you know you don’t need to wear that.” He meant the Somi cast. “Really, ______, you won’t need that.” And he got up and came over to kneel in front of me to unclip, unbuckle, and unsnap the contraption. He set it gently on the ground by my feet. He took my hands in his. I moved my head up, down, side to side, aroung in a circle and it felt great since I had been wearing that brace for so long. “See? Everything is going to be just fine. Trust me, just fine.” And then he stood up and walked out the door. I woke up covered with goose bumps. I didn’t tell anyone about that dream, but I remembered it.
We drove into the city and went into the hospital’s main lobby. It was this grand wide open area in what must have been a church at one point. We got directions at the main desk and made our way to the building where Dr. Meyer’s office was. The hospital is composed of many different building linked by catwalks. We went across a catwalk and into a different building…a less fancy more straight-up office like one….with all gray: tile on the floors, wall color, doors. I was getting a strong sense of deja-vu. We found the office at the end of a hallway. Opening the door we found a pretty empty waiting room, with chairs that had orange on them – really…orange. My medical records from the previous doctors had been sent over, but they called me back for some x-rays. I had A LOT of cervical x-rays for three years of my teenage years – maybe that is why my thyroid is toast? The x-rays were processed and then delivered to a bin outside to room I was sitting in with my parents. We heard them get picked up out of the bin and then the door opened and I met Dr. Meyer. He set the envelope with the x-rays in it on the desk and walked right over to me and started to unclip, unbuckle, and unsnap my brace. “I don’t think we are going to worry about this anymore.” Three mouths dropped to the floor. My parents stared wide-eyed in amazement at each other. I was like, “ohhhh yeahhhh!” But I was still afraid to move my head. Dr. Meyer put the x-rays up on a display and explained that while a fusion would be an option to consider, that he hasn’t measured any additional angulation of the spinal column in all of the x-rays. He took out a protractor and drew on the x-rays from when I first went to the ER, the one’s from the ortho guy, the ones from the neuro guy and his. “See? In six month it is still always 13 degrees.” Although her neck should be considered unstable, it is actually stabilized. The agulation isn’t too bad.” He said this all very casually. The meeting wrapped up with him essentially telling us, “Go live your life.” Those words made my Dad break down and cry. I don’t think I’ve seen my Dad cry more than five times in my whole life – that was one of them. We learned that the muscles of my neck were working to stabilize the injury, which would then stiffen up with arthritis over time. The aches and pains were a good thing and I would be okay…in time. So I, even though I broke my neck, I walked away, and never went under the knife. Amazing!
Seven years later I taught my first group tennis lesson at Fullerton’s Lakeshore Athletic Club. As my class was picking up balls, I asked the members the, “so what do you do?” question. This cool lady answered, “I’m a medical assistant at Northwestern Memorial.” I asked her whose office she worked at, to which she replied, “you probably wouldn’t know him.” I said, “try me, I was treated there.” She said, “Dr. Paul Meyer.” I said, “Wow, he was my doctor!” She said, “That is impossible. Most of his patients don’t walk, let alone run around playing tennis.” I said, “well, I do!”
I have often caught myself feeling guilty that I’ve wasted so much of my life in so many ways as I’ve been blessed with an extra twenty years now. Hopefully, I’ll have many more years too. Hopefully, I won’t waste them. I know I lived that experience with one miracle after another bestowed upon me. I have felt that nudge of spiritual awareness to know that my life has meaning and purpose. I have touched that clarity at times and it is beautiful.
I recently had a “healer” share her impressions of me. She knew nothing about me and mentioned that why she was doing her treatment she was overcome with the color of orange. It made me think of that dream with the all orange waiting room. I didn’t tell her about that. She says that angels are all around us and there to offer help, guidance, and protection. I feel this is true at my core as I have sensed that I have had help, been guided, and experienced protection with only divine intervention to credit. There are skeptics for everything out there…some of them are my best friends. But, at my deepest level of knowing, I think that I can appreciate that I have a wonderful guardian angel working hard to keep me going so that I can do what I need to do in this life. And knowing that does sometimes intimidate me, while it also comforts me.
When I was at my lowest point, I think that I allowed my fears to swallow me and I pushed away spirituality on a conscious level. But, even then, my guardian angel was there. I had been guided toward some amazing people that could help me endure the struggles of those dark days. Miracles happen all the time and we are just too busy to notice. Angels are here among us, but we are too loud and fast to hear or feel them. I think, now that I’m older, I can at least attempt to let my guardian angel know that I thank him/her and appreciate the blessings. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to embrace this refreshed spirituality. Maybe the fact that I want this is also a miracle since there has been so much struggle to bring me back to this kind of attitude.
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