Borrowed Time
Living Thankfully After a Brush with Death
Monday, July 27th will mark five and a half years since I suffered a heart attack that led to cardiac arrest. It nearly killed me. That day will be my five-and-a-half year reminder of the brevity of life.
Five and a half years ago I nearly left this life.
I got no warnings, had no symptoms. Zilch.
I just went to bed one night and woke up in the hospital a week later with my wife beside me.
Once I was aware enough to understand what Laurel was telling me, I learned that I’d had a heart attack around five in the morning (Jan 27th 2021) and gone into V-fib. My daughter, who lives next door and was getting ready for work, came over and performed CPR for 15 minutes until the local VFD took over. Shortly after that, the county EMS arrived and took over from the VFD. All in all, I was down 53+ minutes. It took six shocks to get me back.
After that came a cardiac cath and stent, 48 hours of hypothermia protocol to hopefully prevent brain swelling, a careflight into Dallas, a medically induced coma, lots of drugs, and other fun stuff.
Although I’d been awake and groggy for a day or so, I “officially” woke up on February 2nd…Ground Hog day.
There’s a lot more to the story but this is enough for now.
So, what did I learn from that experience?
Lesson 1: I’ve Learned that Life is Fleeting
As I continue to reflect on things I’ve learned, I’ve come to what is not exactly an earth-shattering conclusion: Life is fleeting.
We all know that life is short. But going to bed one night and almost not waking up drives the point home in new and sobering ways.
We know instinctively that no one has tomorrow guaranteed.
The New Testament book of James says, “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes” (James 4:14 NRSV).
My brush with death made me acutely aware of that fact. Indeed, for some time after my recovery I dealt with PTSD, wondering each night whether I would wake up again.
Not one of us, no matter how good our health or how well we take care of ourselves has a guarantee on our next breath.
Lesson 2: I’ve Learned that Time Races By
If one lesson from my heart attack is that life is fleeting, another is the increased awareness of the swift passing of time.
I will celebrate my seventy-first birthday in a few months.
Even though I’ve recovered from my heart attack, it has made me aware that I’m living in the twilight of my life. And it’s reminded me of how quickly the time is passing. I can measure my life expectancy in less than two decades.
It makes me think of King Hezekiah of Judah. In the Old Testament book of 2 Kings, chapter 20, the prophet Isaiah delivers a shocking message to the king:
“In those days Hezekiah became sick and was at the point of death. The prophet Isaiah son of Amoz came to him, and said to him, ‘Thus says the Lord: Set your house in order, for you shall die; you shall not recover'” (2 Kings 20:1 NRSV).
Hezekiah did not receive this news well. The next verses go on to say that he turned his face to the wall, wept bitterly, and asked God to reconsider.
God granted Hezekiah’s request and told him that he would give him fifteen more years of life.
That’s a bittersweet gift: the blessing of extra time coupled with the burden of knowing exactly how much remains.
On the one hand, he has another decade and a half to live.
On the other hand, he knows that he only has another decade and a half to live!
I have often wondered how Hezekiah responded to that knowledge. Did he count down the days and years he had left? Was knowing how much time he had a positive or negative thing for him? Did it bother him? Did he even think about it?
We’ll never know, but I’ve been reflecting on that story because I am now in a somewhat similar situation.
No, God hasn’t told me how much time I have left. (I’m thankful for that!)
However, at almost 71, fifteen to twenty more years, give or take a few years, is a reasonable life expectancy. So in a sense, at least, I’ve been put on notice. Not that I couldn’t have figured this out before my heart attack, but coming to the very brink of death sort of puts an exclamation point on it.
In Psalm 90:10, the psalmist writes:
“The days of our life are seventy years,
or perhaps eighty, if we are strong;
even then their span is only toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away.”
I know that the fifteen or so years I have left will fly by.
The temptation, of course, is to grieve over time lost and so little time left. But that leads to the third lesson I’ve learned.
Lesson 3: I’ve Learned to Number My Days
In the face of life’s brevity, should I mourn? I don’t think so.
But neither should I measure my potential lifespan in terms of decades and half-decades.
The writer of Psalm 90 follows up the previous verses with this prayer:
“So teach us to count our days
that we may gain a wise heart” (Psalm 90:12 NRSV).
Another psalmist phrased it this way:
4 “Lord, let me know my end,
and what is the measure of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is.
5 You have made my days a few handbreadths,
and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight” (Psalm 39:4-5 NRSV).
It should come as no surprise to any of us that life is fleeting and time is racing by, but the proper response to such knowledge should be to maintain a deliberate, conscious awareness of life’s brevity.
When you’re older, as I am, that’s easier to do than when you’re in your twenties or thirties. Yet it’s one of the most spiritually beneficial activities we can engage in.
How do you do number your days? A good place to start would simply be memorizing Psalm 39:4-5:
4 “Lord, let me know my end,
and what is the measure of my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is.
5 You have made my days a few handbreadths,
and my lifetime is as nothing in your sight” (Psalm 39:4-5 NRSV).
Bonus Lesson: Every Moment Is a Gift from God
Nearly dying changes you. Or at least it should.
In my case it has caused me to give thanks every morning when I open my eyes. My next breath is in God’s hands. Every second that I live on this earth is a gift from God.
And I need to live a life characterized by thanksgiving.
For however many seconds I have left.
❤️
Grateful you lived that day. Humbled you lived to share the story of your day and its lessons. Be well! Blessings to you and yours!!! <3