Just to set the stage, I consider these Killzone posts to be a corner of the social media universe. It’s different than Facebook and X in that the topics are more focused, but it’s still an opportunity to address people with whom I would otherwise not normally interact. In the social media universe I am the John Gilstrap I choose to project, which is often a shade different than the John Gilstrap that actually is.
For example, I am always healthy and happy on social media. By any reasonable assessment, I live a blessed life, both professionally and personally. As a player in the entertainment business (which is what this writing gig really is), my job is to entertain–to be interesting, insightful, maybe even amusing from time to time. The last thing people want to hear from me are everyday life problems. Folks have plenty of those in their own lives.
Sometimes, though, a personal problem is worth sharing. So, here we go . . .
My back has been a mess for decades–some of it due to overzealous firefighting in my youth, some due to heredity, and some due (dammit) to the fact of getting older. Back in 2019, I had three levels of my cervical spine fused to take care of lightning bolts shooting down my arms. That procedure was very successful, but my lumbar spine continued to trouble me.
If you’ve had sciatica, then you know the torment of the nerve pain in your legs, and of that invisible ice pick in your buttocks. For years, the pain would arrive for a week or two and then go on hiatus for months. For the last six months or so, the pain took up residence and partied daily. It got to the point where I couldn’t walk more than 20 steps without having to stop and try to recover.
My MRI showed nothing but bad and worse news. Worst of all was severe stenosis at L4 and L5. In essence, this meant that bits of bad discs, bone spurs and fluid were directly impinging on the nerves of my lower back.
Time to see the neurosurgeon.
On June 4 (last week), the neurosurgical team at the Berkeley Medical Center successfully performed a two-level laminectomy and microdiscectomy on my lumbar spine. The minimally invasive procedure took about two hours. The medical miracle workers removed a part of my backbone to gain access to the nerve roots, and from there Roto-Rootered all that crap away and removed the pressure that was causing all the pain. The instant I awoke, I knew that the procedure had done its job. All the nerve pain was gone.
There remained, however, the fact that they’d stuck a knife in my back and pulled all those muscles aside to gain access to what they needed to do. The muscles respond with a tantrum of spasms because that’s just what they do. Plus, there’s the discomfort caused by cut-away bone and the steel surgical staples they used to close the wound. A lesser man would call that pain. I just dropped a lot of F-bombs.
(As an aside, note that the autonomic nervous system–your fight-or-flight instincts–don’t recognize the difference between a friendly surgical wound and a tiger attack. It reacts with a pulse of adrenaline and healing chemistry and energy. Now you know why you’re so tired after even a minor medical procedure.)
They sent me home with pills–Oxycodone every 6 hours for the pain and Tizanidine three times a day for the muscle spasms. I was to be a junky for three days. Cool beans.
Except . . . Among the side effects of Tizanidine, listed right there on the bottle, “Might cause hallucinations.”
Which brings us to the real meat of this post. Boy howdy, did I hallucinate! Only at night, and maybe when I was asleep, but if they were dreams, they were some wild, vivid dreams. Three dimensional dreams, if that even makes sense. On the morning after my surgery, when I woke up in bed, I asked my wife if she was real, because the first time I’d done that she’d not been. Whoa.
At Surgery Plus Two, the hallucinations took a turn that give me a chill even as I write this today. I was lying on my back and the bed had become some kind of floating vessel, moving down a river as I looked up to a starry sky through the silhouettes of leafy trees. It was very peaceful, very comforting. Extremely vivid. Then came the faces of relatives who have passed. They floated by one or two at a time, all of them smiling. These were not family photograph images. Uncles, aunts, cousins. I didn’t even recognize some of the faces, but they projected an embracing warmth that I don’t know how to describe. My dad’s was the only face in full color, dressed in his Navy uniform.
I panicked enough to awaken and say a prayer for me and for my family–concerned that this was somehow my version of the “bright light” that people report from near-death experiences. I wasn’t ready to go.
Immediately, sleep returned (or did it?) and instead of seeing the sky and my relatives, I was looking down on myself in a boat as I was cut free from a mooring and allowed to float away.
I awoke again with a feeling of great peace, then sleep returned.
In the morning, I sobbed as I relayed the story to my wife. To be honest, I’m not doing all that great as I write it now.
I don’t know what to make of this. A vivid imagination is an occupational hazard, so I have to acknowledge that the whole river sequence was merely the creativity factory working in overdrive. But I think I choose otherwise. I think there are many aspects of life and living that we just don’t understand, and I choose to believe that love transcends everything we think we know.
I don’t think my family had gathered to tell me it was my time, but rather to tell me that they were at rest and that when my time comes–may it be many, many years from now–I’m going to be embraced when I arrive.
What a wonderful experience, John! I’ve seen maybe 100 +/- NDE videos. Survivors live especially productive lives after their NDE. They often report that everything there was high res, roughly speaking, with a strong sense of being loved. I’ve never had an NDE, but one lonely night, very shortly after I lay down in bed, a voice said, “If you open your eyes, you’ll see something interesting.” My eyes opened, but they were not my regular eyes. Everywhere in front of me was bright light with depth to it. I agreed it was interesting, closed my eyes and slept, comforted by the knowledge that there is another side lit by Someone who cares about me.
I did have an OOBE (out of body experience) during an auto accident in 2023. As my head rebounded from the headrest, for a split second I spent about a minute somewhere else. I call it “backstage,” because it resembled that part of a theater― everything painted black. Someone was sitting in the dark, on a platform across from me. He had evidently just explained why I should treat the at-fault motorist kindly. I agreed to do so, and instantly was back in the car, only able to remember the last few seconds of the conversation.
I stuck out my hand to the other driver and introduced myself before getting out of my car. Everything went well. I stayed entirely non-judgmental and didn’t let him get into blaming himself. I have no idea why I was coached.
Have you ever been in an odd situation and suddenly known exactly what to say or do? Maybe you’d been taken backstage and coached by an angel for a fraction of a second, our time, then returned to your body with no memory at all of being out of it.
I have had numerous experiences like yours, John – without the drugs. Premonitions in the form of dreams, visions, and so much more. So, I agree dreams can be so much more. Your descriptions are beautiful, and mesh with my experiences as far as the joyful, peaceful emotions the images bring to your soul.
So sorry for all the pain you’ve endured. Glad you’re getting some relief with more to come as you heal.
JGuentherAuthor, your experiences are fascinating.
Wow, John! First and foremost, wishing you a quick recovery and a much improved quality of life.
There are dimensions we can’t see and don’t understand but they’re undeniably real.
Brains are mysterious universes. Wouldn’t it have been interesting if you’d been hooked up to a brain scan while the dreams/visions were happening? Probably looked like Fourth of July fireworks.
You’re taking these experiences as the gifts they are and will incorporate them into stories to entertain and enlighten us.
Take care of yourself, buddy!
I, too, have back and neck problems, have for the past 40 years, caused by a bus accident when I was in grade school. Thankfully, none quite so debilitating as yours. And because of them, most every night I have my Picasso dreams. Again, not as spooky as yours. But as you related your problems, I could empathize. Hope your progress continues.
I used to have vivid, very real dreams if I fell asleep in the afternoon (usually while reading.) But nothing like yours.
Best wishes for a speedy recovery. And I’m wondering if any of these experiences will show up in a future book.
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Definitely something there, John, and you were given a glimpse. I had such a glimpse once, over 40 year ago. It was palpable, vivid, nearly physical, and of supreme comfort at a time when I truly needed it.
I love this, John.
Disconcerting and scary as it may have been, I like the lesson: But I think I choose otherwise. I think there are many aspects of life and living that we just don’t understand, and I choose to believe that love transcends everything we think we know.
It’s not the “stuff” that happens to us that makes us stronger and more at peace on planet earth, it’s our reactions that grow us up. (Or something like that…I like how you said it.)
🙂
For some reason your post brought tears to my eyes, and I don’t cry except during one of those Christmas Maxwell House homecoming commercials. I think Somebody pulled the curtain back just a little bit.
I had an OoB experience when I was about seven and was extremely ill. I was in my bedroom looking down at my mother placing a cold cloth on my forehead. I’ve never forgotten that experience.
Glad to hear the surgery went well, John. Best wishes for a full recovery.
I’ve never had an OOB experience, but I know people who have, and it changed their lives. Sounds like you’ve been given a great gift, and I’m grateful you shared it with us.
Another back pain survivor wishes you well. The last time I had a bone density scan, the area from my butt to halfway up my spine was white with arthritis from all the damage done to my body over the years. Less pain, but less movement. Also a spike that extends into my butt muscles so, if I move wrong, it hurts and damages.
I’ve been studying the paranormal for over forty years, and your experience isn’t weird. It’s pretty dang common. My whole family has premonitions, and my dad has been very active in the family since he died. My mom has joined him. The world is weirder and more wonderful than most materialists and rationalists can believe.
Here is to a full and complete recovery!
Perhaps Elaine Viets will tell her post stroke hallucinations? I knew Elaine when she had her stroke but it wasn’t until BRAIN STORM came out that I heard the more complete stories.
I am just shy of four months post knee surgery. My surgeon had a robotic assistant. Reading how your back was worked on, sounded a lot like what the robot did for me. The robot had a series of cameras and identified what parts of my knee needed to go. Then it made its cuts and left the humans to suction out the scrap, leaving the exact edges for the titanium plates.
I was under the mistaken impression that killlzone was to benefit writers, not to become travelogue or substitution for Facebook. Take this stuff somewhere else
Vince,
My slice of the Killzone is mine to write about whatever the hell I want. If you are unable to see relevance in this post, then you might want to trade in your pen for a calculator and pursue mathematics as a pastime.
I’m here every other Wednesday, when I will welcome you to be somewhere else.
👍
Based on your response I must have hit a nerve. Maybe you should reread the mission of KZ.
I love it when idiots misread the room and double down. I’m a founding member of this blog. Please do educate me on why I did that. Self righteous morons are rare, but your ilk is real. I seriously welcome you to block all posts from the Killzone. Given the insult, how could you not? If I were you, I would blacklist us. You are forbidden from ever buying my books.
Thank you very much for your gracious response. I guess being a founding member of the blog must make you oh so special. Makes me want to run out and buy your books despite your protestations. Please don’t trip over your ego or ever growing sense of self importance because someone of my ilk doesn’t appreciate your literary expertise.
Vince: Maybe you should take your snarky comments over to X, where they’d fit right in and be appreciated.
Writers have such vivid imaginations! We should have wild dreams to match. And share them with other writers as fodder for fiction. I’ve taken tizinidine (3 pills) every night for about 9 years for spasticity and neuropathy. (I had a 12-hour back surgery in 2014 that fused my spine from top to bottom). I never thought to look at the side effects. Maybe that and the many other prescription drugs I take to keep myself upright account for the vivid dreams! Either way, I love dissecting dreams with people and have even used them in poems. Share away!
Wow! I’ve never commented before but that was a wonderful post. You are such a writer … I’m in envy. I love that you described everything so I could imagine and I love your conclusion. Thanks so much.
Way late to the party. Thanks for sharing this experience, John. Haven’t had an OOB experience like yours, but had a brush with a departed relative that, to this day, 30 years later, leaves me in tears. Of gratitude, I should add.
Thanks for sharing John Gilstrap. I learn from just about everyone I come into contact with. Your “out of body experience” expands on something we’ve discussed here on the Killzone before, use of dream sequences in fiction novels. We were admonished not to use them to get readers invested in the “death stakes” risk our protagonists face only to reveal it was only a dream. Doing otherwise, we should expect our books to be thrown across the room.
–
I’ve tried turning this prohibition on its head by introducing a scene in which the purported dream sequence is unveiled as something blending the real with muddled dreams leading to a major clash between the protagonist and their love interest.
–
We can even learn from someone offering snarky comments. What better way to do an Amy Tan and get material for one of our more disagreeable characters?