Number Seven....Lucky? Perhaps.

I am not that much into numerology but the number seven seems to pop into my life every so often and usually in very bizarre circumstances.  My actual number using the numerology calculator is six.  So why does seven play such a predominant roll in my life? Well it has actually been the number associated with my near death experiences.  Yes…that’s right; each time seven has been featured I have nearly died (or potentially could have). Let me explain.

It was June of 1961 and I was about to be born. In those days, the technological advances had not been made and there was still risk involved in child birth. My Mum should have been given a C-section but the doctors left her too long and after an excruciating labor she developed a fever and I was delivered by forceps.  As I was pulled into the world, there was no sound, no newborn cry. My Mum tried to grab a nurse to ask what she had had. Nothing; just running and silence.   Time stood still. You see I was born with collapsed lungs. The pressure from the birth and forceps delivery had caused them to collapse. The doctors worked on me for seven minutes, after which time they managed to inflate one lung.  My mum did not even get to hold me and did not see me for three days after I was born as I was placed in isolation in the NICU. A nurse came out to tell my Dad the grim news after my birth.  Lungs collapsed probability of mental retardation, perhaps cerebral palsy. My Dad cried.  My Gran (who was not a particularly religious woman) got down on her knees in her office and prayed with her coworkers. Eventually I was allowed to go home and my parents braced for the worse. Months passed and I grew strong. My Dad worked with me, exercising my tiny arms and legs, talking to me all the while. And then at six months old, my parents were told that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me and that all indications were that I was developing normally and would lead a normal life.  My Mum then had a nervous breakdown!!

Time passed and I started primary school. At seven years old I decided I was old enough to walk to school every day. We lived on the third floor of a flat on the main thoroughfare and there was traffic, but nothing like it is today. Well needless to say my Mum finally relented and let me walk to school.  No sooner had I run down the stairs and opened the door than I saw my friend Susan Innes across the street. Now my parents had always drummed it into me to look both ways when crossing, but what did I do? Well I looked one way but forgot to look the other..oops, bam! I was hit by a car. Luckily the driver had a “feeling” I was going to run out and managed to swerve hitting me only in the mouth and knocking me flying over the other side of the road. If a car was coming the other way, I would not be sitting here today!!  The gentleman stopped and took me up the three flights of stair with my bloody mouth and my two baby incisors hanging by threads to the front door of our flat. My Mum’s face was a picture!! It was all systems go. Off to the hospital, stitches in my lower lip and then to the dentist to have my teeth extracted.  But I was alive!!! It was so funny that I got into trouble for not looking when I crossed the street. I remember the big burly policeman coming to the house and letting me know how much trouble I could have got the man who ran me over into trouble, and then when I went back to school, I had to go and see the Headmaster and he gave me a good talking to as well.  It was a long, long time before I was allowed to walk to school by myself!

OK. Fast forward to March of 2006. I had been scheduled for a D&C and ablation because of severe menstrual problems and the removal of what they thought was a small fibroid. Everything was going well. I arrived at the hospital and was prepped for the op. I remember being wheeled into the operating room and seeing the stirrups hanging from the ceiling. They made me as comfortable as possible…let’s face it, how comfortable can you be with your legs sticking straight up in the air in stirrups? The anesthesiologist put the mask over my face and that was it!! The next thing I knew, I was being turned on my side and Al was saying something about my heart stopping and that they were going to be hooking me up to a heart monitor. I thought I was dreaming. Those of you who have ever been under anesthesia you know that you have a hard time knowing what’s real and what isn’t. So for a while I thought I was dreaming!! But no… I heard a nurse say in the recovery room that my heart had stopped for seven seconds!! Then it went crazy. I was told to breathe, I was flipped, I was hooked up to what felt like a million machines.  Then I was given a room and monitored! I was so scared. How can my heart stop and nobody notice until AFTER the operation? I slept and apparently my heart stopped during the night. I will spare you all the details but basically my heart has an electrical problem which makes it cut out occasionally. This now explained all the years when I would get tunnel vision or completely black out.  My doctors recommended that I have a pacemaker implanted.  So, I have been living with my pacemaker since!! It’s a love/hate relationshipI must say. I love that I haven’t had a dizzy spell or have passed out since but I hate having to go to the doctor and the lump and scar on my chest.  And I AM ALIVE!!! (By the way all the gynocological stuff went fine!)

I cherish each day I have and believe that I have a guardian angel who is guiding me through my life, cradling me and keeping me safe through all these episodes.  I joke with my children that I am now the bionic woman and will be around forever!!  Each day we have is a blessing and we never know when our number (seventy seven?should I be concerned?)  is up!! Maybe it’s all just coincidence, but I think not!!

Until next time. Blessings and may your guardian angels watch over you x