35 MINUTES and COUNTING, a true story of Micky Oldham, a woman who crossed over to the other side and came back to share the lessons of her experience. After the final barrage of bullets from a crazed gunman, Micky lay on the floor for 35 minutes, waiting for medical assistance. During this time, she felt her psyche slip between reality and an unknown dimension. She came back with a message: life can bring a raincloud, but a rainbow waits w the promise of hope, as the sun begins to emerge from the darkness of the clouds. 'For anyone who has ever questioned, 'what is life and death' 35 MINUTES and COUNTING is a quick and breathtaking read' -JoAn Worden, CMSW, LMHP, and author.

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3536373 Minutes and Counting

The Life Story of Micky OldhamBy MICKY OLDHAM

Balboa Press

Copyright � 2011 Micky Oldham
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-4187-7

Prologue.......................................................................................ixChapter 1 Another Reminder, Why Doesn't It End?................................................1Chapter 2 Waiting Seemed Like an Eternity......................................................9Chapter 3 No, Not Again........................................................................18Chapter 4 I'm On the Way.......................................................................28Chapter 5 Wonderful Additions In My Life.......................................................38Chapter 6 Miracles Do Happen...................................................................46Chapter 7 Family and Blessings.................................................................55Chapter 8 We All Dealt With Uncertainty........................................................63Chapter 9 December 5, 2007 Day One, I Am Experiencing a Nightmare..............................71Chapter 10 December 6, 2007 Day 2 ... Waiting..................................................95Chapter 11 December 7th and 8th Days 3 and 4 ... My Journey....................................103Chapter 12 December 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th Day 5, 6, 7, 8 One Day at a Time.....................113Chapter 13 December 13, 2007-January l, 2008 Healing and Emotion...............................120Chapter 14 January 2, 2008-Recovery............................................................130Chapter 15 It Hasn't Ended.....................................................................151Chapter 16 There Will Always Be Skeptics.......................................................159Epilogue.......................................................................................165

Chapter One

Another Reminder, Why Doesn't It End?

The only thought that came to me in that surreal moment was to lie as still as I could. He was still shooting at every living, moving target and I knew I could not move. I was sure I was still alive, then I thought, "Am I in a dream?" Suddenly, there was silence and then the helpless sounds of voices pleading for help. I mustered up every drop of strength left in my body as I, too, let out a garbled, "help". My first thought was of my children and grandchildren. "Ok God, I haven't been to any of my grandchildren's graduations, high school or college; as a matter of fact, there will be many marriages in the future. I must attend those, in fact I have great grandchildren I want to meet." I was feeling somewhat indignant over the plight I was in. "Please God," I suddenly felt very contrite and then I was drifting into a memory of a time when things were so serene, so defined, devoid of any problems except those I created for myself when I failed to follow the rules.

The rooms were so large in Nonnie and Grandpa's apartment. I could picture the grey radiators that were too hot to touch in the winter and cold to the touch in the summer. In the wintertime, my brother and I would sit nearby, trying to stay warm while we played board games on the floor. The kitchen was small but everyone in the family was always present at each meal. I could still see Nonnie standing over her sink with a match, singeing the feathers off of a freshly killed chicken. I loved her fried chicken and the care she gave to each piece as she carefully rolled the various parts into the flour and then dropped them, one by one, into the hot grease.

The really special days were the three holidays and each birthday. Every Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter we were allowed to eat at the spacious dining room table with the best China dishes and the "company" silverware. Of course, when each family member had a birthday, this ritual was repeated. It was wonderful on Christmas when we opened our packages and found that one special gift that we waited for all year. There was always candy and a few other small items, what good memories.

World War II was consuming the entire world in destruction while life at home was simple. We listened to the radio to hear the market news, the weather and the latest events of the war. I had one brother who was three years younger than I. Of course, we had our differences like any siblings do, but we knew our limits and the consequences, if we forgot and went too far.

In the summertime, when I was quite young, I experienced my first trip away from home. At that time we lived in Oak Park, Illinois, a suburb outside of Chicago. Our family would leave the apartment and visit Nebraska. Anselmo was a sleepy little village and just a few miles outside of town, our aunt lived on a farm. Great Aunt Tilly was my grandpa's sister on my father's side of the family. It was special to spend time with my dad's side of the family since we lived with mom's parents and were used to their ways. Aunt Tilly knew how to make my brother and me feel like special guests. The farm was such a different experience, with miles of fields and animals that we had never seen in the city.

My brother and I would run and play with abandon freedom. We didn't need toys because we created our play with existing sticks from which we built forts. Climbing the trees gave us our outlook posts and we really had no worries, that is, as long as we behaved.

We lived in Oak Park until I completed first grade. I attended a Catholic school called Ascension. Obedience and family values went hand in hand. These were gentle times except for the fact that the world was at war, but our home front was safe.

When I was in the second grade, my parents moved my brother Craig and me to Berwyn, another suburb of Chicago. My parents, Harry and Shirley, were given the opportunity to rent their own apartment from my other Nonnie and Grandpa, who were my dad's parents. This time we had the entire top floor and it too, was very large. Since we weren't sharing space with our grandparents, we had our own bedrooms.

I attended another Catholic school called St. Odillo, from the last part of the second grade through the seventh grade. It was here that I made my First Communion and Confirmation. I remember vividly, that the nuns were not supposed to have pictures taken of them and if we talked too much, they were allowed to put tape over our mouths. We knew we had better behave or the consequences would be worse after we arrived home and our parents found out about the discretion. Isn't it funny, the things we remember about our childhood?

When I turned ten, my parents presented Craig and me with another brother, Steve. A new baby brother, how exciting! Of course, at my age, I was more than old enough to help my mother with the extra work a new infant demands. I also had more homework so my life was full, and I was content and happy.

My dad, Harry, whom everyone called Pete, came home when I was in the seventh grade and announced that we were moving again. This time we were moving into our own home in the nearby town of LaGrange. I finished seventh and eighth grades in a public school called Pleasant Dale.

I loved the school and all of my new friends. When it was time to graduate from eighth grade and attend Sr. High, we attended a school by the name of Lyons Township or LTHS. I finished my freshman year and was the happiest I had ever been. Elvis Presley was topping the charts and "sock hops" allowed us to express our new version of the jitterbug, a...

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