As a content consumer, I am personally interested in knowledge and wisdom emanating directly from human experience. When a person goes through a personal traumatic experience like a near death or perceived near death situation, I believe, that the insights and lessons learned from that experience are invaluable and impossible to duplicate in a formal research setting.
When was the last time you were solicited to take part in a research study like the following:
"Need an extra $500? Show up on Saturday to the crash test lab. The first five people through the door will be placed in a car crash simulator, accelerated to 80 mph and then abruptly stopped via a “brick wall”.
The goal? You will be part of a study to evaluate the near, intermediate, and long-term psychological impacts of nearly dying in a car wreck!
Terms and Conditions: Should you die, you will not receive the $500 as you will be disqualified. You will also be required to sign a waiver and leave "next of kin" contact information. Spaces are limited so don’t be last!"
At this point you may be wondering what this has to do with having your gallbladder removed or any other body altering major surgery? Hang-on grasshopper, we will get there!
About 10 years ago, I experienced a near death situation. It happened on a Saturday afternoon at my local drag strip (auto racing) in Spokane, WA.
Several years before the incident, I completed a frame-off restoration of my father's 1966 Buick Skylark GS returning it back to its original “as-purchased” condition.
The car is quite special to this day and remains a family heir loom. It was the only car my father had ever purchased brand new in his life; a life that was cut short at age 45 due to cancer.
Being a horsepower junky, the one deviation from factory specifications was the build-up of the stock 401 cubic inch Buick nailhead engine.
We installed a wicked camshaft, increased the compression and upgraded the carburetor and intake manifold with factory components from the larger 425 cubic inch engines found in the larger sedans.
Suffice to say, the 401 engine looked stock but residing underneath the “stock facade” was a tire annihilating, fire breathing dragon! The car was scary fast for an "around town" ice cream chariot!
On that fateful Saturday, I decided to make a solo trip to the Spokane racetrack to have a little fun.
The typical weekend event drag racing protocol goes something like this:
Make three time-trial runs to see how fast you can get your car to go with minor tuning work.
The track creates a single elimination tournament bracket.
Competitors race against each other until only one driver remains - the champion.
On that day, the street tires I had on the rear of the car were spinning severely at the starting line during launch (any good drag racer knows this is bad)
This issue forced me to have to “softly” launch the car which ultimately may have saved my life. The reason is that with the soft launch, I was only able to achieve around 100 mph maximum speed in the 1/4 mile.
Prior to my first elimination run, the car that preceded me had blown a radiator hose and sprayed antifreeze all over the big end of the track.
Two problems became readily apparent during this experience:
1. Hillbilly run racetracks that do not check nor enforce "the no anti-freeze rules". These rules are in effect at every track in America due to insurance regulations.
2. Racer safety costs money and track owners do not prioritize racer safety over profit, remarkably similar to many other businesses in America.
When "Old Faithful" erupted out from under the engine bay of the "Rickie Bobby", turbo-charged mouse house, POS Blazer that raced in the lane exactly one minute before my first elimination run, track management did not dispatch any safety personnel to make sure the racing surface was safe before sending the next pair of cars.
At any professionally managed racetrack, this is standard procedure after every set of racers finish a pass.
Further, properly managed tracks typically station safety officials at various points along the track to watch for spills or debris during each run.
My turn, I pull into the burnout box area, roll (spin) the street tires over a couple times to remove the rocks and debris and proceed to stage the car in timing lights to start my first race. Being the slower car, I get an advantage head start; I get to leave before the faster car next to me gets to leave.
As I neared the big end of the racetrack, I could see my competition quickly closing the gap and could tell that it was going to be a very close race at the stripe, so close in fact that it wasn't going to be possible to guess who was going to win?
Side Note: in a blowout race the car typically ahead will slow down prior to reaching the top end of the track by just letting off the gas pedal, a term we call "lifting". Lifting in this instance was not possible since the race was shaping up to be a photo finish.
As I cleared the speed traps, I had to aggressively apply the brakes to slow down. At that point, fate intervened and the close race and "who had won" no longer mattered.
At 100 mph, in a car with factory drum brakes, and trying to slow down on slimy anti-freeze spelled disaster!
Fortunately, the faster car I was racing immediately flew past me at the stripe and was out of danger when what I am about to describe unfolded.
As I applied the brakes, the front brakes locked up and threw my car into a skid that pitched me sideways, subsequently, filling my windshield up with a disturbing view of nothing but the concrete wall that I was about to take head-on at 100mph!
Being raised driving on icy country roads in Montana is what I credit for reflexively turning into the skid to minimize my angle of incidence with said concrete wall.
I hit the wall with right front bumper and front quarter panel, the initial hit pitched the car hard which smashed in the passenger side of the car, grenaded the passenger side glass inside the car and tagged the right rear bumper.
As the car glanced off of the wall it started to spin like a top! The car "washing machine" spun two full revolutions in the middle of the track as it was also careening down the track and towards the opposite concrete wall.
The car finally came to rest with a violent collision up against the opposite concrete wall. Amazingly, with the front of the car facing back towards the tower, the passenger side again took the final hit, saving all of the drivers side sheet metal and glass.
I was "Shaken and Stirred" with an extra shot of " Shock" but luckily not seriously "physically" injured.
I somehow managed to keep this thing from rolling? This was extremely lucky because when cars roll and try to merge with concrete walls at 100mph the mortician ends up with a new Beamer!
Further attesting to the compromised nature of the gene pool managing Spokane Raceway, they were unable to string a series of words together that might allow for the onsite medical personnel to take a look at me or even call the f*&%ing EMT's that were stationed at the tower to come down to the scene of the crash? WTF?
Instead, they told me to start my totalled car and get it off the track (in not so nice words) so the next pair could race.
I was so dazed and confused, I just did what they said. I started the car and drove it back to the pits. Once there, I sat in the car not even knowing where I was or what to do.
Pretty soon all these people started coming up and saying things to me. However, it truly was like a zombie apocalypse scene.
I could hear their words but could not really comprehend anything anyone was saying to me? I am guessing this is what shock does to a person?
The only person I vividly remember was the guy in the other lane who came over and started yelling and screaming at me.
Apparently, I had won the race and knocked him out of contention for the track points championship. He was a raging "a-hole" for sure, but, in the moment seemed more like a silly red-faced cartoon character - "Yosemite Sam" comes to mind.
His words normally would have predicated a fist in the mouth scenario. I was so dazed that I could not comprehend or emotionally connect with being angry let alone tenderizing a pair of lips with my fist.
After the incident, paranoia set in. I still didn't even really know where I was, but I did know for sure that I didn't want to be there any longer. I drove my crashed car a mile or so down the road to the local Casino parking lot, threw the cover on the car and went inside.
I sat in the casino for 2 hours before my brains were unscrambled enough to figure out how and who to call or what to do. That truly was the day I learned what being dazed, confused, alone and in shock truly felt like. Scary as hell!
The “near death” part of this story happened whilst I was in the middle of the "spin cycle" at 100mph careening down the track out of control!
Amazingly, everything slowed down. The entire world went into slow motion, and it felt like I was in that spin for hours. I had no control over the car, or the situation and I remember just taking my hands off the wheel, getting very calm and relaxed and thinking to myself that this was the end. I did not freak out, my life did not flash before my eyes, I did not feel a sense of concern, I was as calm as a cucumber, and shy of that one experience in college where I did mushrooms, the moment was one of the most peaceful experiences of my life.
I had "accepted the inevitable", this was my last moment on this planet!
When the car slammed to a stop against the opposite wall the whole scene was surreal, and it felt like I was waking up from a bad dream.
Unbeknownst to me, the real consequences of this wreck had not even started!
The dreams and psychological trauma post-accident were so bad that I had to seek professional help. I was suffering from classic post-traumatic stress symptoms that created dreams so vivid and disturbing that I would not allow myself to sleep. These dreams went on for over a year. I could write an entire blog about these disturbing scenes.
When initially describing the accident to my counselor I used the expression "near death experience". She asked me directly "How did you feel at the moment you felt you were going to die?" I said I felt calm and peaceful.
She confirmed that what I had experienced was congruent with others she had counseled who had near death experiences. When people feel like death is inevitable, they usually do not freak out as one might expect.
She said the "peace and calm" is getting to immediate acceptance!
You arrive at immediate acceptance because your mind/body knows that there is “nothing you can do” and that there is “no reason to do anything” except wait for the inevitable.
When I read the myriad of posts from people wondering when their bodies will get back to normal after their gallbladder has been removed or after having some other permanent life changing medical procedure, I have one answer, NEVER!
Your back is never the same after back surgery and you likely will not be running marathons on prosthetic knees and hips.
You have had a vital organ, designed for a specific purpose, removed from your body. Your body nor its function will/can ever be the same. You need to get to “acceptance” and do so very quickly. Since we are not talking about life and death in most instances, getting to acceptance is more difficult.
You will try to make deals with yourself, BS yourself and make excuses all the while continuing to feel miserable as you opt not to change your diet or lifestyle to adapt to the new you.
I have read 100's of Facebook posts, no doubt posted by good people, who are hamstrung by only one thing: a "victim" mentality!
No one really wants to hear a sob story about how you can no longer eat a hot fudge sundae after losing your gallbladder. Reaching out to folks for sympathy on social media in general "does not compute" in my brain let alone continuing to post about things that just cannot happen or are not possible.
I could post until cows drive Porsches about how sad it is that I cannot have a baby. I am a heterosexual dude (penis), I do not have the physical nor mental equipment nor desire to have a baby. To continually post about something so impossible would really be in effect one thing “STUPID”!
You will have to determine what your new normal is and make the necessary adjustments in your diet and lifestyle to work within your new normal.
Get excited about the quest and the new discoveries. Ditch the sob story. There may be things from the old you that will be the same or similar, however, the reality of the situation for most is that your life will not be quite as easy, and it has been forever changed.
The "for the better" part is no more gallbladder attacks! The "for the worst" part is starting over with a new diet or other medications and supplements required to keep your life from being miserable.
The sooner you can accept this fact and start figuring out your new normal the quicker you can get on with your life!
Thank you for reading.... Paul
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