Why was this strange man following me around the hospital? By Toni Marris, 46
Wincing with pain, I dialled my boss’s number. ‘I’m so sorry, I can’t come in again today,’ I said.
I’d begun to develop serious tummy problems and was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease and stomach ulcers.
‘We’ll need to perform a gastric bypass to reduce the scar tissue,’ the doctors said.
But I wasn’t worried, as it sounded very straightforward.
My partner Ian dropped me off at the hospital for the operation, and the last thing I remembered was being wheeled into the operating room.
When I opened my eyes, I was in a dark, wood-panelled ward with nurses in old-fashioned dress. Then I faded out again.
When I woke up next, it was in an unfamiliar, modern hospital ward.
I spotted a young man with long brown hair, a beard and a friendly air of authority.
‘Are you feeling OK?’ he asked, coming over.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘But where are my family?’
‘We’ve had to take you somewhere else,’ he replied. Then I was moved to a different room.
Each new place I went to, the young man was waiting for me.
‘Are you sure you want to go back to them?’ he’d ask each time.
I’d always say yes.
At one point, I looked across the ward and saw hospital staff performing CPR on an old man before drawing the curtains around his bed.
Seconds later, I found myself outside on some steps.
‘Are you sure you want to go back?’ someone asked.
‘Yes,’ I whispered.
Then I woke up in an extremely bright room.
Despite the light, I felt content and comfortable. Each time I closed and opened my eyes, there were different family members with me — even my old dog Buffy.
But you’re not allowed dogs in hospitals! I thought.
Then I remembered that Buffy was dead — and that’s when I knew for certain I was dreaming.
Opening my eyes, I saw my mother and Ian beside me.
‘You’ve been in a coma for three weeks,’ Ian explained. ‘You almost died.’
Although the operation had been a success, I’d developed a serious complication afterwards and was rushed back in to theatre.
My family were told to say their goodbyes.
Recovery was agonising — it took me a week to be able to speak again.
‘Where did they move me?’ I eventually asked Mum.
‘You’ve been here the whole time,’ she replied, looking confused.
So I told her about my dream. Her face went white when
I described seeing the cardiac arrest.
‘You were awake for that?’ she said.
It turned out it had actually happened in my ward.
After three weeks in hospital,
