“Beeing” on the Brink of Death – and How It Changed Me

This is Rebecca’s story as told to Melissa Gouty. Our “Opening Our Hearts” stories are based on people’s real-life experiences. By sharing these experiences publicly, we hope to help our readers feel less alone in their grief and, ultimately, to aid them in their healing process. In this story, Rebecca recounts the trauma, terror, and triumph of recovering from a bee sting that left her on the brink of death.

My Last Day on Earth?

I would never have believed that the beautiful Father’s Day morning of June 16, 2019, was almost the last day of my life. When I woke up that morning, I could not have imagined that I would be on the brink of death within a few hours. It’s hard to think about that day and realize that the smallest decisions made the difference between living and dying. I still get emotional talking about it because I came so very close to crossing over.

My husband, Mark, and I were beekeepers. That gorgeous Sunday morning we were out working with our hives, just like we’d done dozens of times before.

When you’re a beekeeper, you know that you might get stung. In fact, it comes with the territory, and I had been stung before several times. No big deal.

We were fully suited up, but somehow a bee got stuck in a seam of my veil just where the two pieces of mesh came together. It stung me just under my chin on my neck. As soon as it happened, there was no doubt that this sting was different from the others.

I knew right away I was going South. We rushed to the house. I had an epi-pen in my suit pocket, and Mark was stunned when I started ripping all my clothes off in the kitchen so I could jab the epi in my thigh. In reality, I knew you could push it through clothing, but I wasn’t thinking straight. Then I rushed to our cabinet where we kept first aid supplies and just raked everything out, flinging contents to the floor, looking for Benedryl.

I could feel my tongue swelling.

“…the smallest decisions made the difference between living and dying.”

The Tiny Decisions That Mattered

Looking back, I’m so aware of the tiny decisions Mark made that saved my life — and of the random circumstances that affected the outcome.

First, he made a right-hand turn out of our driveway instead of left. Normally, in any medical emergency, we’d turn left out of the driveway and head for the hospital in Danville, 23 miles away. For some reason, Mark whipped the car right and aimed for the much smaller hospital in Hoopeston, about 10 minutes away.

The second thing that saved my life is that we got a green light on not one, but TWO one-lane construction bridge repair sites on the way to the hospital. If that light had been red, waiting even an extra minute might have been the end of me.

Third, an attentive, caring staff person was on duty when we arrived at the clinic in Hoopeston. I ran in clutching my throat while Mark stopped the car. The person at the desk somehow could see what was happening. I had run into the walk-in clinic when I needed an emergency room not knowing that the ER was in a different building. But this woman ran with me, pulling, supporting, and guiding me to the ER across the parking lot in a different building.

As soon as the ER doc saw me, he made the medical decision to intubate me (insert a breathing tube) and fly me by LifeLine helicopter to Carle Clinic, the big regional hospital in Champaign, Illinois. This young doctor who usually only had to deal with earaches or broken bones all of sudden had to perform an emergency intubation. His quick decision-making and his skill undoubtedly saved my life. I will be grateful to him all the days I have left on this earth.

Twists of Fate

Over and over, I’ve thought about the many factors that gave me a second chance at life.

Hoopeston is a small town with a very small hospital. Yet, just before I arrived, an ill man was to be transported via helicopter. Because I was in critical condition, they called another helicopter for that man and put me on the helicopter that had been arranged for him. It arrived seven minutes after the breathing tube went in.

Imagine this.  A tiny town. A pre-arranged helicopter flight on a Sunday morning. A transport arriving just minutes after a doctor had taken the drastic measure of inserting a breathing tube in me. All of those unlikely events happened in the right order at the right time. It seemed like the incredible doings in a work of fiction or adventure movie.

Strangely, it was Mark’s decision to go to the Hoopeston hospital that saved my life. This little town of five thousand people had a direct LifeLine to Carle Hospital, the only Level One Trauma Center in Illinois, south of I-80.

The Lost Days

Things got worse before they got better. Even with enormous amounts of drugs, the swelling wouldn’t diminish. Five days after I was stung, the doctors wanted to do a tracheotomy, but one doctor overrode the others and convinced them to wait.

They waited. And waited. And waited.

For nine and a half days, I was in the Intensive Care Unit on life support. My daughter, Sarah, rushed home from South Carolina to be at my bedside. My twin sons, David and Stephen, both who worked in Indianapolis, hurried home to be with me. One of my three kids was always with Mark, supporting him and drawing strength from this man who had the weight of our world on his shoulders and yet calmly handled difficult decisions day after day.

I was out of it, but on the ninth day after the sting, the doctors decided to see if I could breathe on my own. They wanted to take out the breathing tube. If I couldn’t breathe on my own, they’d do an emergency tracheotomy. My family told me that there was a very serious discussion among the doctors about doing the extubating in my ICU room or waiting three more days for an operating room to be available in case they had to do a trach.

In my sedation, I couldn’t see them, but I heard things. During this discussion, one of the doctors said to the other, “You’re the best there is.”  That gave me comfort. I didn’t really understand what was happening, but I felt at peace with that one doctor identifying the other as “the best.”

“…sometimes people begin to breathe on their own. Sometimes they don’t…”

My Family and My Odds

Mark said that seeing the teams of doctors and nurses assembled in my room was a surreal experience. One team would remove the breathing tube and ventilation equipment. One team would pump my stomach. One team would perform the tracheotomy if necessary. Several nurses and an anesthetist were in the room packed with people and activity.

Mark and Sarah had to leave, but not before they were warned that sometimes people begin to breathe on their own. Sometimes they don’t.

I was lucky. The ability to breathe after being taken off of life support is often referred to as the “fight or flight,” and when the tube was pulled out, I guess I “fought” to live. I began to breathe on my own.

Relief. Amazement. Joy.  Mark and Sarah told me that they were shocked at how quickly I got going after I began to breathe again. They came into my room where the nurses had elevated my bed. I was awake after almost 10 days of being on life support.

What They Don’t Tell You About Coming Back From the Brink of Death

The strangest thing is this…

You would think I would be wildly joyous after the breathing tube came out. You would think that my elation of surviving would boost my spirits to heights previously unknown. You would think my worries would be over.

You would be wrong.

The night after the breathing tube came out and I started breathing on my own was the most difficult, frightening, nightmarish time of my life.

I didn’t understand what happens to your body when it’s not functioning on its own.

Being on life support for nine days, I lost the ability to swallow. My vocal cords were swollen, and I couldn’t talk. My arms and legs were so weak I couldn’t make them respond. “Terrified” doesn’t even begin to cover what was I feeling. I couldn’t even raise my hand to get my finger to press the nurse’s call button.

In my panic, I thought my family had abandoned me. I just couldn’t understand why they weren’t there. In reality, it was 3:00 a.m., and my husband and children who had spent days at the hospital and had known that I was out of the woods, had gone home for a well-deserved night of sleep. The nurse told me all this, and I’m ashamed to admit that I doubted her and asked her if she was telling the truth.

My body and my mental state were so messed up that I thought I had had a stroke. I believed I had permanent paralysis. My thoughts were dark and horrible and not even worth repeating now.

“I didn’t understand what happens to your body when it’s not functioning on its own.”

What I Missed While I Was Gone

I was out of it on June 22^nd,  Mark and my wedding anniversary. My family, having been at the hospital for six days on an unbelievable emotional roller coaster ride, decided to do something upbeat to change their outlook.  Because our anniversary was on the 22^nd, Mark and the kids chose to do everything symbolically in 2s.

They parked on the 2^nd floor of the garage. They went to the second bank of elevators. I’m not even sure what all they did, but it helped them keep going, and hearing about it later, I was moved by their celebration of our marriage.

My family helped me so much, and even though I couldn’t talk to them, I was, at times, vaguely aware of them. Sarah massaged my hands and feet. I remember seeing David smiling at me and feeling a tidal wave of joy. I wanted to write Stephen a note on my clipboard but couldn’t because I was going in and out of sedation. Mark was always by my bedside. He was a steadfast, calming presence who held us all together.  They were all stoic and for that I am grateful. Had I heard hysteria, or tears and fear, I would have broken down inside.

Eternal Gratitude for Those Healthcare Workers

Countless medical personnel who I will never know took care of me during the worst time of my life. It’s as if they have a specific genetic code for caring and nurturing.

I don’t have enough time or space to talk about all the different people who helped me recover. There was the lady who so patiently taught me how to swallow again. Shane, a physical therapist, was so positive that I couldn’t help but be encouraged. A nurse named Dominque gave Mark countless updates and encouragement throughout the ordeal.

One night, I had a nightmare about bees. A kind doctor gave me his business card and told me to talk to his picture on the card when I was afraid. A nurse on duty figured out that one of the machines around me had a suction gadget on it right next to my ear. That gadget made a buzzing sound like a bee. She moved the machine, and the problem was solved.

“Shower Me With Love”

Most of all, there was a nurse named Sam and an aide named Janeth, who understood my desperate need to take a shower after twelve days of being in ICU. (I can assure you the body and hair are not a pretty sight in this situation!) Even though I had just been released from the ICU, I was adamant that I needed a shower.

I will save you the details, but let me tell you that when you’re that sick, modesty is the least of your worries. Sam got Janeth to be in the shower with me, and this wonderful young woman shampooed and washed me the way a mother would a child. She was fully dressed when she got me in and wringing wet when she got me out. I was so moved by her compassion that I told her to call her mother and tell her what a fine, fine young woman she had raised.

To this day, I call her my “forever and ever guardian angel.”

How Almost Dying Changed Me

It’s not that I feel I was an uncaring person before this happened, but going through this ordeal definitely changed me.

I am less uptight about small things. I understand now what the phrase, “matter of life or death” means. Details can be fixed, and I don’t get panicked over them anymore. For instance, I just got a text from the bank sounding an alarm. When I was transferring money from one account to the other, I accidentally added a zero to the amount! But no worries. I can fix that!

These days, I stop and smell the roses. I take time to enjoy and appreciate the beauty around me. Life is short – always shorter than we expect – and I don’t want to miss anything.

My relationship with my husband got even better. When someone has proven that “’til death do us part” is a real possibility…when someone is by your side at the darkest of times…when someone who was not always physically demonstrative sits next to you on the couch holding your hand and watching the sunrise over the fields, it gives your relationship a depth never before experienced.

I know that kindness matters. Witnessing so much goodness from the people who cared for me in the hospital made me see that every act can change a life. Nowadays, I try to be kind and generous to everyone I can, paying forward the compassion shown to me.

“Witnessing so much goodness from the people who cared for me in the hospital made me see that every act can change a life.”

Believing in Signs

Nothing can get me down now. Nothing but death can stop me from living life to its fullest.

God wasn’t ready for me yet. He’s got more plans for my future.

The night the breathing tube came out and I started to breathe on my own, there was a rainbow over our home in Rossville. I can’t make this stuff up! Sarah took a picture of it.

God promised then that everything was going to be okay, and no matter what happens in the future, I believe Him.