It Happened Again…
and this time it got my attention
I was working on my computer one minute…
and lying 3 feet away, face down the next.
This was my eighth Sudden Death incident in ten years.
I usually never know when it happens. I find out later when I get the call.
The call from my doctor’s nurse telling me what occurred.
This time… it caught me off guard.
I am usually sleeping or sitting in a safe place.
I could feel my heart begin to race…
and then I wasn’t there for what happened next.
When I woke, I had rug burns on my face…
and my glasses were discombobulated.
My husband rushed into the room to see what had happened.
I knew.
So did he.
My first thought was…
happy birthday to me.
This last time, it lasted 17 seconds…
then my defibrillator fired and brought me back.
And strangely, there is comfort in all of this.
Because when it happens, I am always safe.
Sitting.
Sleeping.
Held.
Protected.
Guided by something loving, constant, and beyond fear.
Yet this time, it caught my attention in a new way.
It was a shake up of sorts…
and I knew there was a message in it for me.
The First Time
The first time was different.
That was the one that shook everything.
There was no defibrillator yet.
It was a January night. Paul, my husband, and I had just come home from our family Christmas dinner.
It was our tradition: dinner out, then gathering at my sister Judy’s house. Pool. Laughter. Stories. Catching up on life.
That night was full of family—my daughter, siblings, nieces, nephews, and my mom.
Just life being lived.
The Moment Everything Changed
When we got home around 11:30, Paul and I stayed up a bit so our English Setters, George and Larry, could burn off some energy.
I sat down.
Picked up my camera.
And that’s where my memory ends.
What Paul Saw
Paul tells the rest.
“I knew something was wrong when she stopped talking.”
I had been laughing, joking about “blackmailing” the family with bad photos.
Then suddenly, silence.
He said it looked as though I had gently set my camera down, as if I somehow knew.
I was slumped over and foaming at the mouth.
He called my name.
Shook me.
Nothing.
So he called 911.
Twelve Minutes
The operator told him to get me on the floor and start CPR immediately.
They asked if he knew how.
“I learned it in 1984. I think I’ve got the gist of it.” (My husband had a great sense of humor and calm about him.)
And then he did it.
For over 12 straight minutes.
No switching.
No pause.
Just love in motion.
Outside, freezing rain iced the roads.
Inside, time stood still.
The Rescue
When the EMTs, Kevin and Brian, arrived, something extraordinary happened.
They said the dogs were nudging their hands, then running toward the room, then back again.
As if they were guiding them.
“Hurry… this way…”
Brian said it took them a bit to figure out what my heart was doing, and they had to reset their machine a couple of times, as Paul continued CPR.
Then, as they took over, Paul stood nearby, calm.
Not panicked.
Just watching.
Witnessing.
They shocked me twice.
And then my heart started beating again.
My rhythm stabilized.
My blood pressure steadied.
As if nothing had happened.
But I didn’t wake up.
They had to manually bag air for my breath…
from my house…
to the local hospital…
and then the whole way to the next hospital.
Between Worlds
At the hospital, I was stabilized and transferred.
They cooled my body for 24 hours to protect my brain.
And somewhere in that space, between here and not here, something else was happening.
Paul told me I came to him.
That I kissed his cheek and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be just fine.”
My sister Nancy said I stood in her doorway and told her the same thing.
I visited my mom too.
I remember none of it.
My Grandson
But I do remember this.
I was with my grandson. My daughter’s son, who died at birth.
I was “floating” but had no body. I was just consciousness.
Danny Paul stood on a sandy shore under blue-gray skies, water stretching endlessly.
He looked at me and said,
“What are you doing here, Grandma? You have to go back.”
And I did.
Waking Up
When I began waking, things felt different.
Time didn’t move normally.
I kept waking at 2:12.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The same nurse.
The same actions.
Like a loop.
Like Groundhog Day.
And here’s a smile, later, I found out it actually was.
Everything Alive
As I came out of sedation, everything looked alive,
with smooth movement like little specks of energy dancing.
The walls.
The curtains.
Everything.
And I understood something I had only heard before:
Everything is energy.
Everything is alive.
I could see it.
A Miracle
The doctors said my outcome was perfect.
Perfect timing.
Perfect response.
Perfect care.
They called it miraculous.
Most people do not survive this.
And if they do, they often live with lasting impairment.
I did not.
What Changed
But I was changed.
Since coming back, I feel like part of me is still there.
Like I exist in two places at once.
The writing I had always done deepened.
Expanded.
Became clearer.
And it always returns to this:
The Truth I Came Back With
Our Creator is Love.
Only Love.
We come from that Love.
We are that Love.
And we are here to remember.
To understand the power within us.
To release judgment of ourselves and others.
To live as we were created.
With love.
Now
Every time I come back, taking new breath…
something shifts.
And I am here for that.
I am here to see what becomes of all of this.
I am here to offer and share all that comes through me.
This time in Sedona.
I didn’t know it had happened, but it did.
It was my fifth Sudden Death incident in seven years.
I never know when it happens. I only find out later when I get the call.
The call from my doctor’s nurse telling me what occurred.
This last time, it lasted 17 seconds. Then my defibrillator fired and brought me back.
And strangely, there is comfort in that.
Because when it happens, I am always safe.
Sitting.
Sleeping.
Held.
Protected.
Guided by something loving, constant, and beyond fear.
The First Time
The first time was different.
That was the one that shook everything.
There was no defibrillator yet.
It was a January night. Paul, my husband, and I had just come home from our family Christmas dinner.
It was our tradition: dinner out, then gathering at my sister Judy’s house. Pool. Laughter. Stories. Catching up on life.
That night was full of family—my daughter, siblings, nieces, nephews, and my mom.
Just life being lived.
The Moment Everything Changed
When we got home around 11:30, Paul and I stayed up a bit so our English Setters, George and Larry, could burn off some energy.
I sat down.
Picked up my camera.
And that’s where my memory ends.
What Paul Saw
Paul tells the rest.
“I knew something was wrong when she stopped talking.”
I had been laughing, joking about “blackmailing” the family with bad photos.
Then suddenly, silence.
He said I gently set the camera down, as if I somehow knew.
Then I slumped over.
He called my name.
Shook me.
Nothing.
So he called 911.
Twelve Minutes
The operator told him to get me on the floor and start CPR immediately.
They asked if he knew how.
“I learned it in 1984. I think I’ve got the gist of it.”
And then he did it.
For 12 straight minutes.
No switching.
No pause.
Just love in motion.
Outside, freezing rain iced the roads.
Inside, time stood still.
The Rescue
When the EMTs, Kevin and Brian, arrived, something extraordinary happened.
They said the dogs were nudging their hands, then running toward the room, then back again.
As if they were guiding them.
“Hurry… this way…”
Paul stood nearby, calm.
Not panicked.
Just watching.
Witnessing.
They shocked me twice.
And then my heart came back.
My rhythm stabilized.
My blood pressure steadied.
As if nothing had happened.
Between Worlds
At the hospital, I was stabilized and transferred.
They cooled my body for 24 hours to protect my brain.
And somewhere in that space, between here and not here, something else was happening.
Paul told me I came to him.
That I kissed his cheek and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be just fine.”
My sister Nancy said I stood in her doorway and told her the same thing.
I visited my mom too.
I remember none of it.
My Grandson
But I do remember this.
I was with my grandson, the one who died at birth.
We stood on a sandy shore under blue-gray skies, water stretching endlessly.
He looked at me and said,
“What are you doing here, Grandma? You have to go back.”
And I did.
Waking Up
When I began waking, things felt different.
Time didn’t move normally.
I kept waking at 2:12.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The same nurse.
The same actions.
Like a loop.
Like Groundhog Day.
And later, I found out it actually was.
Everything Alive
As I came out of sedation, everything felt alive.
The walls.
The curtains.
Everything.
And I understood something I had only heard before:
Everything is energy.
Everything is alive.
A Miracle
The doctors said my outcome was perfect.
Perfect timing.
Perfect response.
Perfect care.
They called it miraculous.
Most people do not survive this.
And if they do, they often live with lasting impairment.
I did not.
What Changed
But I was changed.
Since coming back, I feel like part of me is still there.
Like I exist in two places at once.
The writing I had always done deepened.
Expanded.
Became clearer.
And it always returns to this:
The Truth I Came Back With
Our Creator is Love.
Only Love.
We come from that Love.
We are that Love.
And we are here to remember.
To understand the power within us.
To release judgment of ourselves and others.
To live as we were created.
Now
Every time I come back, every breath, something shifts.
And I am here for that.
I am here to se