By Tracy Wasem
I died at the age of twenty-four. It was May, my favorite month. Flowers were blooming and the desert sky was covered in dusty storms. Naked on the operating table and cut open down my entire abdominal cavity, I was leaving this world similarly to how I entered it. Bloody and naked on a medical table.
A ruptured appendix had gone septic and this third surgery was beyond risky. It was their last hope to try and save my life and they had given my parents a 50 % chance of survival which became smaller and smaller with each surgery. I wouldn't survive another one. My heart stopped twice on the operating table. It was then that I had a Near Death Experience. Scientist sometimes tries to explain this event away as the result of intense REM activity of the dying brain. This does not however, explain events that happen after. How a person's life can change forever from such an experience. How personal the experience is and how many NDE survivors can describe events that happened to them when they were clinically dead.
I had never been a church going person. I had no knowledge of the power of God until I was standing among celestial being communicating to me. They did so through telepathy in such a loving place. A sense of peace and love emulated from these colorful people full of brilliant vibrant colors not to ever be seen here on earth. Yet my journey included a trip to hell, earth and heaven. Revealed before me was the complete knowledge that death was just a portal to other dimensions unseen by us here on earth. The choices we make here determine the destination after our death. I was guided by a boy I had known in high school. As far as I knew he had moved to California and was doing well in the banking industry. How odd it seemed to be guided by him to different area of the after-life.
These celestial beings told me that I would wake up in a hospital and that my parents needed to know that I was going to survive. When I did wake up my hands were tied to each metal bar on the hospital bed. A machine was breathing for me. I saw my dad's pocket full of paper and a pen. He always carried them in his front pocket. I motioned to him to untie my hand. I had so much information to share with them. I came back with a gift that at times seemed like a curse. Now, I just know it was important for me to have that gift and I realize it was my place to use it wisely. What was the dark cloud above my neighbor in the ICU recovery room for? Could anybody else see it? Why was I now able to see colors above young people? Answers to my questions would come quickly as I scribbled a barely legible note to my dad. "I'm not dying." My parents wept over the scrawled, difficult to read scratch across a used envelope. My life had forever changed and I was eager to understand my experience. A different young lady walked out of the ICU unit 32 days after admission.
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