He is coming back. Jordan is regaining consciousness.

Watching Jordan lying in bed unconscious, intubated, plugged into every kind of imaginable machine, I practiced breathing in and out.  I laid my hand on his swollen deformed one.  The plastic surgeons had come by earlier in the day to look at it.  Seems its   inflated state is a result of  multiple injections of epinephrine in an effort to get his heart to start.  The chemicals are trapped in his hand and could cause permanent damage, but the doctors will not operate until they know whether or not he will regain consciousness.  Of course, there is not point in operating if he remains in a coma.  Wow.  How will we deal with a son who is alive but uncommunicative?

I feel myself tumbling into darkness.  I cannot bear to think of him living this way.  Clenching my jaw and sucking back tears, I leave the ICU.  I must find a quiet place.  I make it half way down an empty hall when I sink into a squat.  I drop my head in to my hands and cry out,  “Divine Mother, what will I do if he does not come back?”

“Quiet, my child.  Do you not know that I love him more than you.  He is my very own son.  I am with him now.  I am watching over him.   You are not alone.”

My heart rate slows and my throat opens.  The pain in my chest subsides.  I stay right where I am and silently chant the MAHAMRITYUNJAYA MANTRA, over and over and over again. The words of Pandit Tigunait flash on the screen of my mind. “You must not tumble into darkness.”  Then, while chanting, I see them, all of them standing in a circle around me.  We are at Stone Henge.   Swami Rama holds a staff in his right hand.  He is surrounded by seers, teachers, men in long robes.  I am kneeling before them.  I feel uplifted, supported, protected and reassured by their presence.  I know they have come to help us. “He is coming back.  Jordan has a purpose to fulfill.  He will return.  Let go of all fear.  Fear is your enemy.  We are with you.”

I calmly slid up the wall and walked upright back to our camp on the outskirts of ICU.  Something has shifted.  I sense a presence with me.  My phone rings.  It is my teacher, Rod Stryker.  I had called him the day before.  He says, ” Sarla, how are you?”  I burst into tears and tell him what has just happened…what I have seen and heard.

“I knew you were not alone.  I sensed they were with you.  That is why I waited to call.   You know we are all with you.  Is there anything Gina and I can do for you?”

“Hold us in the light.  Just hold us in the light.”

Within minutes…mind you my sense of time is quite distorted…our lovely Indian doctor, whose name I cannot now recall, approached us.  Leah and I, Jordan’s two mothers, are standing side by side.  “It is a miracle.  It is a miracle.”  His Indian accent punctuates the word  miracle.  We wait.  “He is waking up.  We did not expect this.  His heart was inactive for quite some time.  People rarely return to consciousness after such long periods without a heart beat.  You must understand.  This is truly a miracle.”

I throw my arms around him, giddy with joy.

“Now,” he continues, “we must be patient.  It will take at least 2 more days for the drugs to completely clear his system.  Tomorrow we will take the tube out of his throat.  Once he starts to breathe on his own, his lung should fill out and we can then take that tube out.  One more thing.  We will not know until he is fully conscious if there is any brain damage.”

Another hurdle to jump.  We will do it.  I am confident he will be whole again.  Leah and I hug.  We must tell the others.