The Near-Death Experience
of Phyllis Clayton
This trip had been
odd from the beginning. We had been able to get cheap enough seats on a
flight to a Does God Exist?
lectureship that my wife Phyllis was able to go with me, but it had been
a last-minute special fare that allowed it. The lectureship had gone well,
and we had met some old friends and renewed and revived past experiences.
Phyllis had not felt well for most of the trip and had fought a high blood
sugar, which we blamed for her ill feelings. As we flew home, she got worse;
but we caught earlier flights and got home much sooner than planned. We
exercised as always and went to bed. The next morning as I left for school,
she told me that she had been restless all night and that she was going
to call her doctor as soon as his office was open. During my second hour
class, I was called to the phone. It was Phyllis who told me she was having
trouble breathing, and the doctor had told her to go to the hospital emergency
room, not to his office. "I'll be fine," she said, "but
I wanted you to know where I am." I hung up the phone, but common
sense told me not to leave my wife to drive alone to the emergency room.
I called her back and told her I was on my way home and that she should
rest until I could get her.
When I arrived home,
I found her struggling to breathe and barely able to dress herself. We
reached the hospital and began the routine of blood tests, oxygen, nitroglycerin,
and pain killers. A heart catheterization was planned at 11:00 AM on election
day--November 5, 1996. I walked by the gurney and kissed my wife good-bye
as she was wheeled into the catheterization room. About 20 minutes later,
two doctors came to me and told me my wife would die in a matter of hours
if immediate surgery was not done. Phyllis and I had discussed what we
would do if this was, in fact, the option given us and had decided we would
make one attempt to extend our time together on earth. Five minutes later,
she was wheeled past me on her way to a dangerous surgery for a person
suffering from 49 years of diabetes. I had a dramatic, loving farewell
message to give my wife of almost 38 years as she came by; but she raised
her head as she approached me and said, "Looks like neither of these
characters (meaning Clinton and Dole) will get my vote!" So
much for flowery good-byes.
I was taken to the
waiting room and told I would be informed periodically about the progress
of the surgery. After an hour, I was told that things were proceeding on
schedule. Several hours passed, and finally a nurse came and took me to
a conference room. "Your wife's surgery is finished," she said,
"but we have run into a problem. We are unable to get her heart to
start beating again. This is very serious, Mr. Clayton, would you like
for me to get the chaplain?" "Are you saying that my wife is
dead?" I asked. "Well, we are trying some chemical methods of
stimulating the heart so that it will start to beat again; but this is
very serious. Do you want to talk to the chaplain?" she replied. "No,
I have my own connections," I replied. She nodded and left me alone.
For over an hour,
I waited for the final word. I made sure the hospital had our living will
material. I thought about what funeral home to use and where to bury my
wife. I talked to God. There was no voice from my wife's departed soul,
no fuzzy warm feeling as I have heard people describe when someone they
loved passed away, and no feeling of fear or concern for my wife. She had
always said she hoped she would leave quickly and it looked as though her
wish had been granted.
My racing mind was
interrupted by the nurse who said, "We have your wife's heart beating
but her blood pressure is 40 over 10--she has a chance. A hour later, it
was 68 over 21, and two hours later, I was allowed to go in to see her.
My wife was still alive--supported by pumps and tubes--but alive. A day
later she squeezed my hand when I spoke to her. But it was the end of the
week before she could speak. On Saturday when I came in to see her, I found
her nearly unconscious as doctors and nurses fought a racing arrhythmia
that, once again, put her at death's door. It was a week after the surgery
before the medical staff could say, "she is going to make it,"
and over a month before she could return home to stay. Infection in the
legs from where the veins were taken has caused this to be an even more
painful and longer period of time (we are talking months, not weeks in
getting these legs cleared up) as the circulation problems in her legs
make healing a much slower process. One night in the hospital when things
were quiet and we had some time together, I asked Phyllis what she remembered
about her near-death experience. She looked at me blankly and said, "Nothing!"
"Was there no bright light, no tunnel, no sensation of floating out
of your body?" I asked, "No--nothing" was the reply. The
only recollection my wife has of the entire ordeal is leaving me for the
catheterization and small snippets of things that happened in the Intensive
Care Unit. None of the "out-of-the-body sensation described by Kathryn
Kubler-Ross or David Denton were part of her experience.
Many years ago, I
had wisdom teeth cut out, and sodium pentothal was used as the anesthetic.
I paid very little attention as the nurse inserted the needle into my arm,
as I was engaged in a discussion with the dentist. Suddenly I heard, "Mr.
Clayton!" and turned my head to see that the young lady administering
the drug to me was a former student--one of the worse lab students I have
ever had. This girl broke or spilled everything in my lab--and now she
was in control of my life. With that astonishing realization I lost consciousness.
When I came to, I heard this girl talking to people around me; and I saw
her clearly even though my eyes were closed. I grimaced as I saw and heard
her tell of all the wild things I did in class and how she bugged me with
her sloppy lab work.
An hour or so later,
when my mouth would work and I could see her clearly, I asked her how she
could remember all those wild stories she told about me. Her eyes grew
wide and she blushed as she said, "You heard that?" "Well,
of course I heard. I was right here with you," I replied. "Mr.
Clayton, we were in the front office," she replied. "How could
you possibly have heard?" The effect of the anesthetic allowed me
to hear and to visualize her.
We understand very
little about how the human brain works or what chemicals can do to it.
If out-of-body experiences were a spiritual or physical reality, there
should be some common thread of experience! The fact that people have a
common experience can be due to a common anesthetic. Many people who have
had diethyl ether as an anesthetic have the experience of falling and many
see a bright light. There may even be similar responses of the brain to
stimulus and/or similar secretions of natural materials.
Death
is the separation of the spiritual part of man from the physical body.
Until the Lord accomplishes that separation, death does not occur. It is
not related to the heart, the brain, or the nervous system. My wife is
a fighter. She fought back and is continuing to work toward full recovery
for me and to extend her service to her God. "If it were up to me,"
she says, "I'm ready for the death experience--ready to begin my new
existence free of triple by-passes, heart attacks, insulin shots, blood
test pricks, antibiotics, and pain." I am thankful to her, to God,
and to the skill and dedication of a team of doctors, nurses, and technicians
that I am able to have her by my side a little longer.
--John N. Clayton
Back to Contents Does God Exist?, Mar/Apr
97