'Guess Who'

This is where it gets difficult. Following the MRI scan I was visited by family and my church leader, Tony Wastall.

On reflection, I recognise that this was heartbreaking for all involved. At the time I can't say I felt heartbroken, I didn't recognise any of the people that this instalment will refer to, so any connection or sense of sentiment had been nullified.

All I was told was that a worldwide community were praying for me. That didn't register at the time. My life had intertwined with so many lives and I'd impacted so many people, but I couldn't recall any of it.

Little did I know it at the time, but these 'meetings' were the beginning of something beautiful, a journey into the depths of the Father's heart.

The 'old people' stared at me in amazement; my 'HELP ME' plea had caught them all off guard. I'm not actually sure what I was asking for help for.

Every conceivable emotion had risen within me and the only logical way that I could express that emotion was to scream and shout.I didn't understand I couldn't fathom anything; everything I tried to think about drew a blank. Nothing, I tore at my hospital robe and my hair, my mental state was deteriorating, I could 'feel' it.

A group of nurses came bounding into the ward. I must have looked a sight. The two female nurses had brought back up in the form of two male nurses.

They managed to calm me down and order was restored. Moments later I was in a wheelchair, assisted by a friendly hospital porter named Graham. Delightful chap he was, middle aged, thinning hair with glasses, talked about Wolves all the way to the MRI room. I didn't know it at the time, but he was talking about a football team.

The route to the MRI room seemed to take hours, with Graham and I navigating the maze of hospital corridors. They were still cold, still dull and somewhat lifeless, absent of colour or inspiration. However, Graham brought a sense of warmth and colour to my surroundings in a different way. He was a very genuine and likeable fellow.

We rolled up at the MRI ward. Graham left me sat at the reception desk whilst he had a conversation with the desk clerk. Even though the surroundings were not too dissimilar to the ward I was on, at least it was somewhere different; I was out of bed and felt like I was doing something at least.

The scanner operator soon appeared at the reception desk. She was dressed in traditional hospital scrubs and looked very young. She was not what I was expecting, but then again, I didn't know what to expect.

Graham wheeled me into the MRI room, where I was greeted by the sight of this gargantuan machine. The scanner operator introduced herself as Julie and her two assistants, Michelle and Malcolm, were also introduced to me.

Michelle and Malcolm helped me to stand and they then asked me to lie on a sliding platform connected to the MRI scanner. Before I knew it my head had been strapped into the restraint at the top of the platform (closest to the entrance of the machine).

Julie then came and stood over me and explained what was about to happen. I didn't catch much of what she said, I was so tired and I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep.

As I lay on the platform, I closed my eyes and tried to 'disconnect' from the world. In this room I felt a real sense of peace and tranquillity. A stillness bewitched me, all went silent.

Suddenly the platform began to move. I passed through the opening of this gargantuan machine. The platform came to a standstill, then a series of loud clicks indicated that the machine was about to do its thing. It was then that I had realised I had been fitted with headphones, quietly playing Take That's 'You can Rule the World', ironic given my condition.

However, even the wailing of Gary Barlow couldn't stifle the noise of this machine.
The whirring was loud. I can only liken the sound to a drill being held next to my ear and the trigger being held down.

Weirdly though, the constant whirring sent me to sleep. As I slept, the dream of three trees returned, only this time all the trees were on fire. The sapling, the tree of life and even the dead tree were ablaze. But amid the fury of the fire, a voice offered comfort. So vivid was the dream, I felt like my physical being was in it. The voice seemed so close, a mere whisper yet very audible. "Do not fear the fire, for you are being refined. Up from the embers you will rise, equipped, and transformed to lead a people to paradise."

In the dream I watched the trees burn; I exhaled and smiled, confident that what the voice spoke was the truth. As I stood transfixed by the blaze, the parting words of the voice said "patience".

I awoke, the whirring of the machine had stopped, the platform had emerged from the machine. I opened my eyes to the sight of Julie shaking me desperately trying to wake me up.

"You had us worried for a moment", she said. "Where am I?" I asked. A look of concern spread across Julie's face and her two support staff wore the same expression.
My memory of the rest of the day was hazy. I remember coming back to the ward and getting back into my bed. I fell into a deep sleep. I was at rest, no drama.

Hours passed, I awoke to the sound of many voices. I glanced up at the clock 2.15pm. As everything came into focus, a sea of faces stood at the end of my bed. I didn't recognise any of them apart from the woman and the man who'd been there the night before.

They were whispering between themselves and all looked sombre. Startled by the number of people, I found myself on 'high alert'. "Who are you people?" I asked. "Where's my son?" "Where's Jake?" "I want him, give him back to me."

A look of sadness told its own story. The man 'claiming' to be my dad spoke: "Hi son, how are you today? Don't you recognise any of these people?" I turned towards the woman (my wife), "That's the nurse from last night", I said. "You're the man from the ambulance, the rest of the people, I don't know who they are", I said in bewilderment.

They whispered among themselves: "He's out of it, he's not himself", they said. Then a phrase emerged that would be a feature of this entire trial: "It's in his eyes, there's nothing there, no recognition at all."

It was literally a live version of 'Guess Who'. I was peppered with questions, which I couldn't answer. I was at the point of exhaustion again. I surveyed the room. There were lots of people sat at bed sides. I determined that it must have been visiting hours.

I wasn't prepared for this! I felt a deep sense of sorrow as I gazed into the eyes of those surrounding me. A sense of despair gripped the group, little was said and the silence was more telling than anything else.

At that point I must have succumbed to exhaustion or the fresh dose of morphine that had been administered into my veins. I simply kept drifting in and out of consciousness, no recollection of time or events. I remember the gentle touch of many lips on my cheeks and my forehead. I didn't awake again until 7pm that night.

When I awoke the light of the ward hurt my eyes. I squinted until I managed to regain my focus. A woman trundled into the ward with a trolley and left some food on my table. I didn't eat it, I didn't have the appetite.

I lay, gazing upwards at the ceiling, muttering to myself, trying to recall my life. Hours passed, another slot of visiting hours came and went, nobody came to see me. That was until after visiting hours were over.

It was around 9pm, when a solitary man strolled onto the ward dressed in a check shirt and jeans. I assumed he was a doctor doing his night rounds. However, he glanced in my direction, he smiled. I looked at him and just dropped my head into my chest, I didn't even acknowledge him. I didn't know him.

I had earlier been told that a Tony Wastall would be visiting during visiting hours, but when he didn't show at the allotted time I assumed he wasn't coming or that he was coming on another day.

Imagine my surprise then when I saw him heading in my direction. He came round to the right hand side of my bed (my left) and he presented a hand. "Hello Dan, I'm Tony", he said. I looked at his hand nervously, before grasping it and shaking it.

"Hi", I said. "Do I know you?" I asked. His eyes filled with sadness, it's as though he’d heard everything that had happened to me but couldn't quite believe it was real until he saw me.

"Yes you know me, we've been friends for many years now", he said. "Are you the church guy?" I asked. This is pretty much how the conversation went for the next 40 minutes or so. I will never forget it. 

Tony told me about the church, my role as a worship leader and the time we had been to India together where I'd led worship in front of hundreds of people. It all seemed so surreal; I didn't know if it hurt Tony to see me like this, but me, I felt so emotional.

I couldn't recall any of it; I had no clue as to my identity. A deep sense of sadness hit me as he described all the people that loved me. In particular he referred to people from the worship team.

I recall making notes the whole time he was talking. This is what I noted down.
LifeSpring Church Worship team leader. Some of the members of the team:

Steve McGregor
Andy Herbert (also my best friend)
Trish Keady
Tamie Forrester
Dawn Pinches
Brenda, Hughie, Dan and Ashlee Ricketts
Frances Heather

Tony said there were many more, but he couldn't remember them all.

He described how I had encouraged, led and built this wonderful team, how I'd led the people of God into intimate times of worship and how I'd encouraged the youth of the church to get involved in the worship team.

I couldn't believe this was my life, had I done all that?

My time with Tony elapsed quickly. He said his goodbyes, not before praying for me, and he left.

The ward was once again quiet. I sat reading my notes, recollecting what had just transpired. It was all so bizarre, unreal even.

As I pondered my discussion with Tony, I spoke, in a dull whisper, and I said "God, if you are here, why can't I feel you anymore?"

The realisation of everything that had happened suddenly began to sink in now more than ever. I felt a massive sense of loss, friends, family and my life had all disappeared. What I was was a shell, a body devoid of spirit. It's almost as if the spirit of Daniel Waldron had left. What remained was a complex combination of confusion and fear.

As I sat on my hospital bed I recalled all the names Tony had mentioned. I tried to picture faces and for hours I played 'Guess Who' in my head. My efforts yielded no results. I slipped under the covers of my bed, curled up in 'comfort mode' and for the first time I wept like I knew what I was weeping for. For the first time I felt the emotional pain of my situation and for the second night in a row I cried myself to sleep and dreamed of a life before all this.

Help Me

Looking back, I recall the next day, after the incident, being one of the most difficult. The day was filled with challenges, moments of embarrassment and was one of the 'lowest' days that I experienced throughout this trial.

I awoke at 7am to the sound of a floor buffer polishing the hospital floor, operated by a small, middle-aged blonde woman.

She had a smile painted on her face and met my gaze. The smile remained. My face however, was not smiling.

I had been asleep for just 1 hour, I was exhausted, but I was appeased somewhat by the light that flooded into the hospital ward.

To be free of the darkness was a welcome comfort and even though I had had very little sleep, it had been a time of rest, without shadows, golden figures, dreams, nightmares and visions.

With the arrival of a new day I was able to take in my surroundings much more clearly.

There were 8 bays, all occupied by older gentleman, 4 bays on one side of the room and 4 on the other. I had a panoramic view of the whole ward.

Outside the two main doors was the nurses' station, hustling and bustling as staff began the 'changeover' process.

However, except for the presence of the cleaner, the ward itself remained pretty silent. All the patients were sleeping soundly, which filled me with a sense of envy.

I actually felt quite offended that I was here, housed with the old and decrepit.

Lost in my thoughts, I'd failed to notice the rather ample lady that had entered the room, wheeling some kind of trolley.

She made her way along my side of the ward pouring liquids into cups and leaving plates filled with all kinds of stuff.

You're asking yourself now, why is he saying 'liquids' and 'stuff?' As daft as it sounds I had no memory of food or drink. I couldn't even tell you what water was if you'd asked me to describe it.

I got nervous as the woman approached my bed. She's going to ask me questions, I thought to myself. Shall I pretend to be asleep?

'Don't be so childish,' I said to myself. The woman trundled towards me, then stopped at the bottom of the bed.

"How are we today Daniel?" I replied with a smart answer. "Well you look fine. Me, I'm all fu£&@# up that's how we are."

She laughed. "Great sense of humour you've got there", she said. I smiled casually.

"What would you like to drink?" she asked. "What do you recommend?" I replied.

"Coffee, do you like coffee?" she asked. "I don't know." I think she could see the desperation in my face. At the time I didn't know what coffee was, let alone whether I liked it.

She proceeded to pour some for me anyway and left it on the side table. She didn't speak again, she simply left two triangular shaped objects on a plate and some kind of mush in a bowel and then went on her way.

I felt like a freak. The woman had looked at me with such pity when she'd left my bedside. I don't think it was intentional, but it still hurt my feelings.

I took one mouthful of 'mush' and that was that. I also took one bite of the 'food' on the plate. It was cold and solid and I probably could of eaten a brick quicker. I didn't even attempt to drink the coffee.

A couple of hours passed, nothing happened, a few of the other patients woke up, but they looked as dazed and confused as I felt.

9am came. Finally some human interaction. Two nurses approached my bed. One was a trainee from the University of Wolverhampton, the other the matron of the ward.

Both looked primed ready for action. Noticeably, the junior nurse stood desperately close to my bed whilst the matron quickly did a round of the other patients.

I felt like a VIP to be honest I think myself and the junior nurse shared the commonality of youth, she had no intention of seeing to the more senior members of the ward.

Somewhat flattered I waited for one of them to speak. The matron by this time had returned to my bedside. They both introduced themselves and suddenly the junior nurse asked if I needed to go to the toilet and afterwards would I like to take a shower.

I said "yes", to both. I arose from the bed, feeling, and no doubt looking rough. I attempted to stand, but I was incredibly unsteady on my feet.

I can't tell you how much those of us that can walk take it for granted. The nurses had to support my weight and escort me to the toilet/wet room.

The matron whispered something to the junior nurse and left us to it. The junior nurse took me into the room and stayed with me, locking the door behind us.

I was puzzled as to why she had stayed in the room with me. Surely she can't be expecting me to go to the toilet and take a shower with her standing there, can she?

She did!!! She explained why she was staying, however, at the time I was not happy about it. Any sense of dignity and self-respect that I had left, I was to lose in the next 20 minutes.

Shame, embarrassment and a deep sense of humiliation consumed me. This was it, the lowest point, I don't know whether you can 'feel' depression setting in, but at this moment I certainly felt completely exposed, my life had reached an all time low.

After going to the toilet, I undressed. The nurse respectfully turned her back. However, the feeling of humiliation crept over me, silently, as if I could feel its clammy touch everywhere.

Looking back, I appreciate that the nurse remained totally professional and did her best to preserve my dignity and I honour her for that.

Anyway, I showered, completely starkers, under the watchful eye of the nurse. I was then taken back to my bed on the ward and told that I would be taken for an MRI scan in 30 minutes.

The nurse left. I sat upright on my bed, I tipped my head back glaring up at the ceiling and I wept, never had I felt so humiliated, or maybe I had, I just couldn't remember.

As I wept, gazing upwards, I suddenly felt myself saying, without explanation. "God, if you are there, just so you know, I hate you, how could this happen? Why didn't you stop it? What did I do to deserve this?"

As I anticipated, I got no response, well not one I could hear or see.

This was it, this was 'The Fall' of Daniel Waldron. Stripped of joy, hope and faith. Humiliated, alone and afraid. There was no miracle to be had here.

HELP ME!!! The people on the ward began to stare as my outburst echoed through the ward.

'Misery'

2am I arrived on the ward, 6am I finally fell asleep. What happened in between was simply tormenting.

I looked around the room, 8 bays, mine included, filled the room, all of which were occupied. Even in the dimly lit room my assessment of the ward led me to the conclusion that I was clearly the youngest man on this ward.

Cynical I know, but my first thought was 'I can't believe I'm here, sharing a ward with men who truly look like they're ready to bow out of the world.'

This reality did little to help my mood. Misery gripped me. I held a pillow over my face and for a few moments I contemplated smothering myself.

Beneath the pillow, thoughts raced through my mind. I was actually quite in fear of what was to come. I still couldn't remember anything and being alone with my thoughts only made the situation worse.

I lifted the pillow from my face. I couldn't move, paralysed by fear. My heart sank as I lay in the eerily silent ward. Such was the silence, that I felt I had been sealed in a crypt never to be unearthed, left with only the sound of my own breathing, buried alive among the dead.

Why do these dark thoughts possess my mind? These thoughts, dreams, visions and figures were so vivid, but I couldn't make sense of any of them.

I closed my eyes briefly trying to dislodge these dark thoughts of death and self destruction.

The silence of the ward was broken by the man in the bay directly opposite to me. He was obviously 'sleep talking'. "Bless you in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit", he babbled. 

No God here, I thought and with that a sudden cold chill raced over my body.

I closed my eyes instinctively, flinching at the sudden cold that had swept into the ward. I heard bay curtains fluttering and I opened my eyes trying to identify an open window. 

Nothing, all the windows were sealed, shut tightly, so where had the gust come from?

My gaze focused upward and there it was a large shadowy figure, its eyes were dead, its entire form was black. Was I dreaming again or was this real? I simply couldn't tell. 

The figure opened its mouth, insects oozed from it, scurrying out as if attracted by the scent of death. It was like watching a 3D horror movie. I lay there in disbelief, utterly mortified. I tried to scream, but my throat closed up. It was all too vivid, it was also too much to handle. Why? Why? Why? I kept thinking. I managed to speak. "What do you want with me?" I asked. Without moving his lips the figure said, "Everything". 

Suddenly I felt like my body was being invaded as if something was being drained out of me. Some sort of mist appeared just above my body. The mist dissipated, absorbed by the figure. It was almost like it had consumed my soul.

The insects were now crawling all over the figure, essentially clothing it like some sort of robe. It spoke. "You're mine now, He won't get you back." "Who won't get me back?" I whispered. "I don't understand, why are you doing this to me?" 

It suddenly occurred to me, I was trying to reason with a shadow. The figure once again spoke. "Your Father won't get you back". I didn't understand. Suddenly I was able to move. I sat bolt upright, a cold breeze once again filled the room. I gazed upward again, the shadow had left.

It was horrible, but part of me was quite disappointed it had left. Why? Well it had made connection with me; it took away the feeling of loneliness. Now, I was alone in the dark again, the sound of silence all around until, an overwhelming sense of emotion overcame me. I didn't cry, I didn't weep, I sobbed silently. My knees up to my face, arms wrapped tightly around my legs and face buried into my knees, I felt the warmth of my tears run down my face, then down my legs. 

I sobbed for an hour at least. All that had just transpired had exhausted me. I had nothing left. Friends, family and all my life's memories had gone I was so alone. 

I lifted my head. The clock read 5.50am, I lay down on top of the covers, curled up as if back in the womb. I cried myself to sleep. What do I do now? No-one to trust, nowhere to turn. I was boxed in, I couldn't run. I was isolated, scared, angry and suicidal. I could feel my stomach tighten as I lay, I shivered, but I didn't care about the cold. I had nothing, so it was nice to 'feel' something.

I can honestly say readers that I was ready to implode, to hit the self destruct button. I cannot contextualise just how 'maddening' this experience was. My inability to differentiate between what was real and what was in my mind was utterly perplexing.

The range of emotions I experienced was also unbearable. The ward offered little comfort. The only sense of hope I encountered at this point was the rising of the sun, which came into view outside my ward window. 

Comforted by the sun's arrival, I drifted off to sleep, undecided whether I was on the brink of despair or encouraged by the dawn of a new day. Only time would tell...