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A Brush With Death

By Robert C. Khayat

Robert C. Khayat is former chancellor of The University of Mississippi. He played professional football for the Washington Redskins before attending Yale Law School. He was also a professor of law at the University of Mississippi Law School that now bears his name. Email him at r1@olemiss.edu.

When I was a young man of 22, I was the picture of good health. I had already played my first season with the Washington Redskins, holding my own against some of the finest athletes in the country, and was back in Mississippi, practice teaching at a high school in Vicksburg.

The last thing I expected to encounter was a health crisis with the potential to claim my life. I was young and in my prime. I had my whole life ahead of me, or so I thought.

Then one morning, without warning, I woke up with a burning pain in my abdomen. The doctor who examined me that day wasn’t sure in his diagnosis. He thought that the pain could be stemming from a ruptured appendix.

The decision was made to do exploratory surgery. Specifically, the doctor made a 10-12 inch incision in the center of my abdomen.

In hindsight, he acted too quickly. He probably should have tried to identify the problem before surgery. I do not know the state of the science at the time, but perhaps pancreatitis could not be detected by blood tests or other medical evaluations.

When I awoke, I felt sicker than I had every felt in my life. I did not realize it at the time, but I later learned that performing exploratory surgery on someone with pancreatitis was the worst decision that any physician might have taken.

As it turned out, I remained at Mercy Hospital in Vicksburg for 105 days ––from April 15 until the end of July. Midway through my hospitalization, a priest was called to my bedside, and I was administered last rites.

Obviously, since these last prayers and ministrations are only given shortly before death, the doctors and medical staff at Mercy Hospital did not believe I had much chance of survival. The second opinion, my own, was more optimistic. I never gave up, and I always felt that I would be healed and would get well.

I’ve read accounts of near death experiences written by those involved in potentially fatal traffic accidents and other life-threatening situations. Often, they relate dramatic episodes of traveling through a tunnel of light, out of body experiences or encounters with loved ones who have passed away.

I cannot say that anything of the paranormal kind happened to me during my own brush with death. Afterward, however, when I knew that I would in fact survive, live to play a few more seasons for the Redskins, and perhaps get married and have a family, I realized something just as profound in terms of the lasting impact it had on me: None of us is immortal. No matter whether we are eight or eighty, we never know when our time is up.

Life is precious and can be lost in a heartbeat. Understanding there will be defeats, losses, disappointments, challenges — sometimes life will seem and actually be unfair. At the same time, there is so much to be enjoyed and cherished, so many opportunities in knowing that giving —- that is, reaching out to others, is where the true value is found.

Peace is the ultimate goal and can be found only by reaching out, looking out and forward –– trying to make the world a better place.

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