God Won't Let Me Die

God Won't Let Me Die

Benjamin Moe

ISBN 979-8-89130-785-8 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-786-5 (digital)

Copyright © 2024 by Benjamin Moe

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Where Am I

Been Over a Year

I Know There Is a Cure

I Want to Help Ben

My Name Is Benjamin

Rolling the Van

The Bottle and the Pistol

He

The King Sent Me His Daughter

Never Say Goodbye

Monica

When the King Summons Me

My Dad Could Fix Anything

Monica, I Do Care

Hallucination and Demons

Hallucinations and Demons

Paranoia

Who Is a Mentally Ill Person

Dealing with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Dakota

Alaska Regional

Kindergarten

Life Is a Gift

Have Me Back, Monica

You Know You Were Railroaded

A Relationship Like No Other

About the Author

Where Am I

Alan Jackson (The Older I Get)

Ricky Van Shelton (I'll Leave This World Loving You)

The words to the songs that are in my story describe my thoughts and feelings about life.

Where was I? I asked myself as my consciousness slowly returned to me. I didn't remember my eyes opening, but they were open. What? Why was I lying on the floor? What was I doing here? I didn't know what was going on. What had happened? I lay there in silence.

I tilted my chin to my neck and saw my toes and the six-panel golden oak door. My right-side toes were wiggling; my left side, I couldn't feel. I was not able to see my thoughts like normal. I couldn't think. I couldn't capture the moment I was not in. I was not in pain. I just couldn't move. I was not able to think. I was so thirsty.

I was so thirsty. What was the left side of my head lying against? Oh, it was the toilet. My left arm wouldn't move. My left leg wouldn't move. I couldn't sit up. I was able to move my right arm. I was able to bend my elbow. My right shoulder wouldn't move.

I didn't know what time it was, but it was going by, slowly. I was awake. I kept trying to move my left arm. I was finally able to rock and roll over to my left side at an angle. I could now move my right shoulder as I reached over and grabbed the edge of the toilet bowl. I was straining to slide my hand down inside the bowl. I wasn't thinking if the water was clean or not. I was so thirsty.

I was able to dip my fingers into the water up to the top of my knuckles and curl them, collecting about maybe a teaspoon of water. I pulled my hand out and put my fingers in my mouth and sucked the water off them. I made myself do it again; it was so hard to move.

I lay there all alone thinking, but I was not thinking normally. I didn't know what I was thinking. I was not even trying to make sense of what was going on in my head. Then I thought about where my daughter was. My daughter? I have a daughter. She said she would be dog-sitting this week. Catalina my daughter who was twenty years old lived with me.

I felt so tired. I didn't know how long I'd been here. I reached over beyond my forehead with my right hand and felt something. I didn't know what it was. I grabbed it and attempted to pull myself up.

It came down on top of my head; it was the shower curtain with the rod. I thought another hour or two had gone by, maybe more. I didn't know. I'd lost track of time. I'd now got some feeling in my left hand. I used my right arm. Now I was able to move it well enough to pull the end of the shower rod to my left hand, which I could barely feel. I grabbed the end. I had little grip, and it was difficult to hold onto. I then worked the rings off the other end of the rod with my right hand. Why did I do it? I didn't know. I just did it.

I had the shower rod now in my right hand. I looked up and saw a roll of toilet paper on the edge of the toilet tank. I reached over across the top of the bowl and knocked it off the edge. The roll fell into the bowl. I dropped the rod and reached over into the bowl. The roll was soaked with water as I pulled it out and put it in my mouth. I sucked it dry. Oh, it was so refreshing.

I repeated soaking the roll and sucking the water out several more times until the bowl was empty. I was still thirsty. Now what? I lay there for a while longer, trying to think. It was so frustrating. For some reason of thought, I said to myself, Flush it. Use the curtain rod to reach the handle, and I did. Sploosh. It filled back up. I continued drinking until I was no longer thirsty. Now I was cold. I had no clothes on, not even underwear. Using my right arm, I tried covering up, pulling the shower curtain over my head and across my chest.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, but I was shivering so much I couldn't keep them shut. Time went by, and I opened my eyes. I didn't know what time it was. I had left the light on with the door closed. How many hours or days had I already been lying there before I opened my eyes the first time? I didn't know.

Damn it! Move! The left side of my body was paralyzed; it wouldn't move, but my left fingers wiggled. My head was lying there on the white linoleum floor in the water that had run over my chin onto the floor. I didn't know what time it was, how I got here, or what I was doing here. Why? Those questions were so blurry in my thoughts. I couldn't understand what I was thinking. I had no reasoning to even try to think about how to solve this. What was this?

I couldn't think straight. All I knew was I couldn't get up. I kept trying to use my right arm by reaching over, grabbing the toilet bowl with my hand, and pulling my body over onto my left shoulder. I'd let go and grab for the sink and miss, and fall back over on my right. I repeated multiple times and failed. I was so frustrated with myself that I started yelling out swear words and cussing.

I would go for it one more time. I let go and grabbed for the sink; my fingers hooked on the edge of the vanity counter. I tried to pull myself up. I just didn't have the strength, and my fingers slipped off. Bam! The back of my head hit the floor. I lay there, blank and dumbfounded, as time went by.

I found out I could bend my right knee and pull my foot to my butt. I extended my foot out and couldn't quite reach the door. I used my right arm, shoulder, butt, leg, neck, and head, attempting to wiggle toward the door. I was barely moving toward the door, but I was moving, milli-increments.

My body was at an angle to the door where the bottom of my left foot was in the corner, touching between the vanity cabinet and door. The heel of my right foot could now kick the bottom quarter panel of the door. With everything I had in that leg, I started kicking. Bang! Bang! Bang! Within thirty seconds, I kicked the door panel out that was held in place with finish one-quarter moon trim that splintered in pieces. Now what was the point of that? I didn't know. Maybe at the time, it was a good idea.

I couldn't quite tell. It seemed to be dark in the hallway. I thought it was nighttime. I lay my head back down on the wet floor, reaching for the shower curtain and pulling it over on me. I was lying flat, and an icy chill ran through me, causing me to shiver. I closed my eyes, staring into the darkness of my mind.

Ben, are you here? I heard Monica's voice. I thought I was dreaming. I didn't open my eyes. Again, I heard, Ben, are you here? My eyes opened, and I heard her, but I couldn't answer.

Then I heard, Yeah! It came out of my mouth.

She was outside the door of the bathroom. What are you doing? Can I come in? she asked.

No! I yelled.

Are you okay? she asked. I didn't answer. Why is the door broken? she asked. I didn't answer. Are you on the floor? she asked. I still hadn't answered. Then she said, I'm calling the hospital, okay?

I could hear her talking on the phone but couldn't make out what she was saying.

Monica said, An ambulance is coming, okay? Ben, do you hear me?

I responded with a Yeah!

Time passed, and Monica said, Ben, the paramedics are here. Do you hear me?

I heard someone ask Monica, What's his name?

Ben, she replied.

How long has he been there? he asked.

I don't know, she said. He wasn't answering any of my text messages or calls, so I came to check on him. His car is here, but he didn't answer the door, so I let myself in and found him like this.

A paramedic said, Ben, I'm a paramedic. My name is Jim. Are you okay? Can I come in?

It took me a minute to answer.

I said, Yes.

He asked, What's going on? Are you in pain anywhere?

I didn't know what to say.

He told Monica he thought I had had a stroke.

I was so dehydrated. In the ambulance, he inserted an IV into my arm and started fluids. They rushed me to an emergency room in Soldotna; I was unresponsive. I think they put me through a CT scan, and I vaguely remember being put on the medivac helicopter. I was fading in and out.

My eyes were slowly opening. I thought I heard voices. Was I dreaming? My vision was cloudy. As I began to focus, I heard the voice of an angel: Good morning. It was a nurse leaning over me. She said, I need to get your vitals. She asked, What is your name?

I replied, Ben.

She asked, Do you know where you are?

I answered, No.

She said, You're at Alaska Regional Hospital in Anchorage, Alaska. She asked, Do you know how you got here?

I replied, No.

She said, You had a stroke. I asked her for water. She replied, The doctor says you can't have any right now, but I'll bring you some ice chips.

I heard a knock at the door. A lady entered the room, rolling a computer screen attached to what appeared as a white pipe stand to a flat plate with four swivel caster wheels mounted to the bottom. There was a face on the screen. Good morning. My name is Dr. Talleb, he said. Do you know your name?

I said, Ben.

He asked, What is your birthday, Ben?

I said, January 29, 1974.

He asked, Why are you here?

I told him, I was told I had a stroke.

He answered, That's right. After exchanging a few more words, they left the room.

I turned the TV on, but I was not paying attention to it. My mind was drifting in the clouds. It was all so foggy. I heard a knock at the door, and a nurse stepped in. She said, I am ——. I'll be your nurse for the day.

She asked, Do you know your name?

I said, Ben.

She asked, What is your birthday?

I said, January 29, 1974.

She then asked, Do you know what day it is?

I answered, No.

She told me, but I didn't remember.

The doctor said you can have liquids. Would you like some soup? she asked.

I said, Yes, please.

She said, I'll be right back. About twenty minutes later, she returned with a tray. On it was a bowl of what I thought was tomato soup, pudding, and a Jell-O cup. She asked, Anything in particular you'd like to drink?

I replied, Ginger ale, please.

I'd had about three MRIs so far. The doctor said I had two blood clots, one on each side of my neck. I was given injections to dissolve them. Of what? I don't remember. I was lying in my bed and trying to process in my mind what I'd been told. My thoughts were cloudy and disorganized.

Dear Lord, forgive me my sin, for I am the filth of sin. My Father, my Lord, my Creator, my king, my God. I thank You for healing me in the name of Jesus. I focused on each word I spoke under my breath. In my mind and heart, I believed he had already healed me. It was more than believing; it was knowing.

Dr. Talleb and a lady doctor (I don't remember her name) took turns visiting me about every other day on the computer monitor. Every day I was asked to try to move my arm and leg. Every day I was able to do a little more. I didn't know how many days I'd been lying in this bed. All this time, I'd been wearing a diaper because I couldn't care for myself.

Knock, knock. A couple of young ladies entered my room and introduced themselves as physical therapists. By now, I was raising my left leg about two inches off the bed and my left arm to about a ninety-degree angle to my shoulder. They helped me sit up on the left side of my bed, facing an open closet about four feet in front of me. One of them put around my waist what was called a gait belt. One of them on each side held me by the belt and helped me stand. I was able to use my left arm a little more, even though it was very weak.

I thought now was the fourth day, and with the help of a nurse and some kind of dolly device, I could be rolled into the bathroom to sit on the toilet. I still needed a diaper even though now I could feel the warning sign coming on. After I finished, I was allowed to sit in the green, semi-reclining chair that was next to my bed. The nurse hung the call button over the chair arm. I watched TV for a while.

I needed to go again; I pushed the button, but I needed to go now! I didn't wait. I got up on my own and leaned over to the wall. There was a handrail I grabbed hold of with both my left and right hands. I was in such an awkward position that I could barely balance. What the heck am I doing? I asked myself.

Somehow, I worked myself down the four-foot-long rail, dragging my leg to the doorway of the bathroom that was on my left. I made it around the corner, now holding on to the sink counter with my feet crossed. I reached for the edge of the shower stall and down I went, turning in a half-circle, landing between the edge of the shower and the toilet. I was wedged in at an angle on my left side with my face to the side of the bowl.

I lay there for a moment and then tried pulling myself up. It was no good; I was stuck. I yelled, Nurse! Help! I yelled a couple of times with a pause in between.

I heard, Hello.

I said, I'm in here.

She said, Oh my God! What are you doing on the floor?

I said, I fell.

She said, I can see that. She continued, I need to get some help.

She came back with two other nurses, and the three of them pulled me up and cleaned me up.

I was scolded in a gentle way. Don't do that anymore! Use your call button. You hear me?

I said, Yes.

Later, I was put through another MRI. The doctor was concerned I had maybe hit my head, but I hadn't.

I had been here for, I think, six days. Dr. Talleb