My Near Death Experience

I decided to start this blog with a short story that will help introduce you to me and the type of person I am.  I asked myself: When have I ever truly feared for my life?

Oh so many to choose from.  I was what most would call an accident prone child.  If I was being raised in today’s society there would have been more than one time that my parents would have had to answer questions from child services.

So about which should I write?  That was the question with which I have struggled.  Do I talk about the myriad of times I was in the emergency room as a child having my head stitched?   Where it got so standard that they knew me by name?  No, I only recall those through others telling the stories, not by my own memories.

How about the two times I was almost shot while on a mission for the LDS Church in Brazil?  I never really feared for my life in those instances.  It was over too fast.  I did not know I was in danger till the danger was gone.

Then there were the numerous times as a teenager that I broke something or smashed something.  Maybe the times as a new driver that I did something foolish that could have resulted in my death.  But again being a teenager I felt I was invincible, so they were never near death experiences at that time.  Only now, with the help of 20-20 hindsight do I realize how lucky I am to be alive.

The time I have chosen for my near death experience was the one time that I really thought I had done something that would kill me.  Where I had that split second thought, “I have just killed myself.”   Where I can honestly say I feared for my life and that of the family I would leave behind.  It is also, looking back on, one of the most hilarious instances in my and my wife’s lives together.

At the time my wife, Dawn, and I were living in a two bedroom apartment.  Dawn was pregnant with our third child, Zachary.  It had come time to get Jessica, our second child, to sleep in a big bed so that the crib would be free for Zachary.  Dawn liked to remove the crib for a while so the older child did not feel jealous of their younger sibling.

A few years earlier when it was time for our oldest, Xander, to make room for his sister, I decided that instead of buying a bed from the store that I would make a bed.  Well… the bed that I made was huge, that adjective is too kind.  It was made out of lumber 4 times bigger than needed.  It was joked that if ever there was an earth quake the safest place for the whole family, and we would have fit, was under that bed.

We had decided that when Jessica was old enough we would simply put a second bunk on top of the existing bed.  It was easy.  Xander’s bed lent itself perfectly to add another tier.   So I built the bed frame, again from lumber larger than needed.  Xander needed a method to climb into this monstrosity, he was only three.  I decided to build a ladder that incorporated the guard rails.

It was a grand design.  I built the ladder/guardrail.  A monstrosity of lumber heavier than twice my son weight, it was not going anywhere.

I needed to attach it to the bed frame.  I decide to bolt the ladder to the bed frame.  I did not want any sharp points sticking out to catch a bare leg or belly.  So I bought bolts as long as the two members together.  This meant I would need to recess the hole to make room for the washer and bolt.  After having been to the local Hardware store multiple times, I wqas unwilling to return to get a sharp drill bit, mine were all dull, so I improvised.

Using two clamps I put the ladder in place.  I drilled the holes that the bolts would use.  This took all my strength as the drill literally burned through the wood.  Then while standing with my body against the bed to gain leverage I started to drill out excess wood for the recess.  The drill bit that I was using was dull and required a lot of force to push into the wood.  At this point I was drilling from the inside of the bed as I was standing on the outside.  I was using the same drill bit that I used to drill the holes for the bolts.

In hindsight I probably should have created the recesses before drilling the hole for the bolts.  I was on the last of my drill holes when the bit slipped and entered the existing hole for the bolt.  With the drill going at full speed it slipped through the hole in a split second and grabbing my shirt and my flesh twisting everything like an alligator in its death roll.

At that instant I thought, “I have just pierced my heart and I am going to bleed to death here in my kids room in front of my pregnant wife.  I thought I was dead.  I thought of my children being raised by someone else, my wife, young and attractive, getting married to someone else.  I thought how stupid I was.  I was vaguely cognizant of the pain ripping through my chest.  My chest felt like it was on fire. 

The thought of, do I pull it out or do I call emergency and wait till the ambulance comes.  I knew that sometimes removing the object made it worse.  I decided to remove it, but I couldn’t.  The drill bit had grabbed my shirt and twisted it.  I was stuck to the bed.  The only way out was to reverse the drill and unwind my shirt.

Gearing up for the pain I carefully put the drill in reverse and unwound my shirt.  There was no pain.  The shirt came free.  I slowly lifted my hand to feel my chest.  I just knew that I would feel the pump of arterial blood spurting from my torn chest.  I was surprised to find that my chest was whole and my life was not running out of my chest.

It was then that I realized that my loving, caring wife was on the floor laughing.  Her hysterics had caused her to lose control of her voluntary muscles and she could not stand.   Through tear shot eyes she looked at me and started laughing all the more.  Soon I was laughing to.

So my near death experience just turned out to be the worst “Purple-nurple” I ever had.