Nothing To Fear Pamella Laird   © Copyright 2025 by Pamella Laird

Image by Michael De Groot from Pixabay

What the hell am I doing down here?

I was spread-eagled, face down on the dining room floor—but why? It was dark and I was shivering. I looked at my watch, 2.14 am. The last thing I recall was going through to the study to sit at my computer and finish a story that seemed anxious to be told. But that had been around 8 o’clock the previous evening, when even though it was close to my bed-time, I’d felt well and full of energy. Another hour at the keyboard might just get me to the end of that story.

The original question recrossed my mind. Why was I lying here in my light summer clothing? The chill in my hands and arms—so cold—something was far wrong, yet apart from the cold, I felt fine. No pain—I couldn’t have broken a leg.

There’d been no warning, nothing hurt, no breathlessness, no headache—yet all that time had gone by through total oblivion. I should get to my feet, have a nice hot shower and get some warmth into my bones. Steadying my hands on the carpet I thrust with both arms but was instantly struck down by an excruciating pain across my shoulders.

Ooooh the agony! I must have passed out because cold and shivering, the next time I glanced at my watch, it was 4.35 and still dark. Another attempt to get off the floor didn’t succeed either, a repeat of the same excruciating pain. Again everything went black. Looking back, I have no idea if this was a blackout from the pain or some other reason such a becoming comatose for some obscure reason or was it something more sinister?

At the same time as in the first two minutes of my second attempt to stand, I recalled the feeling of being engulfed in the sensation of floating on a black cloud. A beautiful, comforting, benign black cloud and that seemed perfectly normal. Everything was peace and serenity—I had nothing to worry about. It was a magical, comfortable place to be and I knew without question, that all would be well.

Not only was I floating but I appeared to be totally enveloped in a black, velvety softness. Any questions or worries melted away. In my thinking, the idea I might die where I lay, was no problem. Rather that, than go through that pain again? In fact, at the time, it appeared to be a good idea as nothing else appealed.

I decided not to try getting up again—I’d just wait and maybe when the sun rose, it would warm me and take that shooting torture from my shoulders. At that point I must have blacked out yet again.

I opened my eyes. 7. 35 am. Oh yes! Same place, still on the floor and now more than half frozen. I stood and made my way to the shower. It was only when under the water, I realised with disbelief—the piercing pain that had grounded me, hadn’t flashed across my shoulders! I’d stood and walked as if nothing had changed—with easy moves I made without a second thought. The hot water was heavenly.

Standing with that comfort pouring over me, at last I began to feel my normal self. I reflected on the earlier part of the evening. I remembered going through to the study feeling full of energy and happy to be finishing that story ready for critiquing next day with the Writer’s Group. There was no confusion, all was perfectly clear in my mind except I had no idea why I’d spent eleven and a half hours through the night lying on the floor.

I went back to the study to find the small table usually behind my computer chair, lying broken on the floor. Books and papers lay around. Obviously I’d fallen there, but how had I managed to get through to the dining-room? Also, the story I had gone through to work on, had no alterations nor additions to the previous day.

It was still early so I turned on the electric blanket, put on my pyjamas, climbed into bed and rang my daughter. I was almost asleep, when in what seemed only minutes, thanks to my daughter, the ambulance men were knocking at my door.

Weeks went by and I coped reasonably happily with several trips back and forth to the hospital, with the numerous appointments, scans, discussions and blood tests. Three months later came a final scan followed by a chat with my doctor. He welcomed me with a huge smile, waited until I was comfortably seated before announcing that my final test showed… ‘no damage to heart.’

He said, “You had a serious heart attack and now look at you. How do you do it?”

My response was more of a query. “Do you think that lying on the carpet on a concrete floor, half frozen for eleven and a half hours might have given my heart time to reset itself and get back to normal?”

“I certainly do think that, and how fortunate you were, not to be disturbed through the night by what might have been people with the best of intentions, getting you off the floor and into hospital. Possibly at that time, quite the wrong thing to do. Other-wise, it seems to me, you are a miracle.”

I laughed. “I certainly feel extremely well except my head remains a little fuzzy.”

“I’m not surprised to hear that, since your brain would have been waiting a while for a blood supply that was slow in coming.”

Later my daughter Fiona, told me that while I was in hospital the doctors had told her I had had a severe heart attack and was dying. Well, they didn’t tell me that, what’s more, I felt 100%. Fiona said I looked 100% with a good colour and she decided this prognosis couldn’t be more wrong. She was right.

To be fair, at some time during the next three weeks when, by this time discharged, I had two seizures, one mild the other, for some minutes, reducing me to nothing all over again. These did indeed upset my balance, to some extent my hearing and apparently my ability to express myself in sensible speech. Thankfully, over time, all of the senses except my full hearing have returned to normal.

That night I thought over the feelings and memory of what had happened on a life-threatening night that had come from nowhere. The sensation of peace, even bliss and complete relaxation were clear. Also, the memory of absolutely nothing to worry about, and how that softness and comfort had enveloped me.

Had this been a near death experience? My daughter assured me I couldn’t have come any closer without toppling into that great void we call death. One thing remained distinctly in my mind—there was no long tunnel with a bright light and predeceased family waiting for me at the end.

Without words, a kindly presence in that unbelievable time of peace, had convinced me, all I need do, was relax into the supporting experience of my feelings. I know now, there is absolutely nothing to fear.