Dr. Parti's recovery and new healing commitment

“I felt as though I was driving very fast through a dense white fog on a road I could not see. The drive was horrifying and exhilarating at the same time, horrifying because I feared I might slam into something and be killed on the roadside, yet exhilarating because I knew I was not driving at all but accelerating through the universe. In retrospect I realize it made no difference how I felt. I had no control over my voyage, not from the beginning when I left my body in the operating room until now as I zoomed toward the next destination. The universe had taken over and was in complete control of all aspects of my life.

Is that how it’s always been? I wondered as I zoomed through the fog. Has the universe always controlled my life and I just thought I was in charge? As I wondered what was coming next, I noticed that I seemed to decelerate, and as I did, the fog became brighter and my eyes began to hurt. I closed my eyes to shield them from the brightness, and when I opened them, I was in the recovery room. I looked above me and saw the anesthesiologist. He told me about the difficulty they had experienced during my surgery and said that ‘certain events’ had presented challenges for the surgeons and proved ‘at times very alarming.’

I saw you during my surgery, I said.

Really, he said, his smile fading.

Yes. I left my body and watched you from the ceiling.

Of course, he said, breezing through my medical file as though there was some clue in there as to why I left my body.

No really. I watched as you administered the anesthetic and even heard you tell a joke.

“Oh really. And what was the joke? I recalled it, the ribald joke that made the surgeon and operating room staff laugh. The anesthesiologist blushed when I told the joke. I must not have given you enough anesthesia, he said, looking hard at the file to avoid my gaze.

“No, you gave me plenty, I answered, recounting the amount of medication I had seen him administer. I told him about going to India where I saw my mother and sister plan their evening meal and how my late father rescued me on the cusp of hell. I started to tell him more, but he glanced at his watched and flipped the file closed. Very interesting, he said. I’ll come back later to hear about it.

“I never saw him again. The surgeon and a resident also visited, but neither stayed long once I began to talk about my near-death experience. Despite my dissatisfaction with the way my colleagues treated me, I knew I was a victim of karma. You sow what you reap.

“More attuned to this subject were the nurses. They spend quality time with the patients and hear experiences like these in ‘real time,’ as one nurse said. It is not uncommon for patients to awaken from their surgical slumber and tell nurses of encounters with departed loved ones or mysterious Beings of Light. When this happens, said one nurse, a simple check of their medical records usually reveals a cardiac arrest or some other brush with death while on the operating table.

When I saw Arpana I told her as rapidly as I could about my experience. She appeared nervous when I told her of leaving my body and frightened when I described my close encounter with hell. Yet she nearly laughed when she heard of my happiness at seeing my father because our relationships had not been cordial. And the past life experience got but a nod, because past lives are a pillar of the Hindu religion. But when I told her about being greeted by the two Christian saints, Michael and Raphael, she stopped me in my tracks.

Wait a minute, Arpana said. You are Hindu. What happened to the fifty thousand gods and goddesses in our religion? Why weren’t they there? What does all this mean? She said in a loud whisper.

It means big changes for us, I said. Raphael says I must now talk to patients about healing their spirit.

Arpana laughed. You don’t like to talk to patients. That’s why you became an anesthesiologist.

I smiled, knowing she was right. The angels told me that I now need to practice a new form of medicine, something they call consciousness-based healing.

What’s that? Arpana asked patiently. I don’t know, I admitted. I think it’s medicine that heals the spirit, a kinder form of medicine that helps the patient heal without using too many drug. Perhaps it has to do with integrating yoga or meditation or other modalities that elevate consciousness. I have to quit being an anesthesiologist and search for the path. It is out there. I just need to find it.

“Several nights later, before going to bed, I confessed to Arpana that I had entrapped our family in a world of materialism. I am the problem; I know that. I am the one who was told by the Being of Light I must change.

Okay, Arpana said. If they give us good guidance, I will believe that what you experienced was not a dream but a reality.

Rajiv Parti, Dying to Wake Up: A Doctor’s Voyage into the Afterlife and the Wisdom He Brought Back (Atria Books, 2016).