There's a time when Death comes calling. He's knocked on my door three times so far in my life, and each time he's been denied, not by my own
volition, but because it simply wasn't my time. I'm not a religious person, merely a spiritual one, and I have come to believe in an afterlife, a
realm unknown to science, but often speculated upon. One Near Death Experience (NDE) was due to my own stupidity, and it molded my perspectives of
reality into what they are today, and has allowed me a deeper introspection of how precious all life really is.
It all started with a call from my mother one day. At the time, she was involved with a popular church in our local, one of those sanctimonious
institutions where a service was more of a parade than an honorable ceremony.
"Hi son. Would you be interested in doing a favor for your mother?"
I cringed. I've heard that line many times before.
"Uh, that depends on what it is."
"It is a charity case."
Ok, that's better. I'm all about charity, and helping others. There's a biblical parable about a lord, going away on business, giving his servants
money, one five "talents", one two, and one one. The guy with five invested his, and so did the guy with two. The guy with one buried his. Upon
return, the guy with five gave his lord back ten, and the guy with two gave back four, and the lord was pleased. The guy with one gave back one, and
the lord was upset. Somehow, this little parable got wedged deep into my worldview as a child, but it's a sound parable, so I never removed it. If
you have abilities, you have to use them. With using then, you loose them. I was given many abilities, one of which is a savant-like understanding
of mechanics, and I've used it many times helping indigents with no transportation. This particular instance was a brake job for an older couple in
which the husband had just had surgery, their car broken down, and no money to take it to the shop. I accepted the job. Mom would provide
transportation, as they lived forty-five minutes away from the nearest town.
Upon arrival, and brief introductions, I started the vehicle inspection, and discovered a cracked brake line. Tracing the line, I decided a complete
line replacement was warranted, running from the master cylinder to the passenger side tire, so I jacked the car up and proceeded to strip the line
from the vehicle. I would need the old line to bend the new line to match the exact routing, so I decided to have it in hand to measure the length.
That done, mom and I proceeded to the nearest auto parts store, forty-five minutes away.
In hindsight, I should have realized that a portable jack will settle into a gravel driveway after an hour and a half, and I should've used jackstands
to provide extra stability to the vehicle. Having the replacement line bent to the exact shape of the old line, I proceeded to crawl back under the
vehicle, knowing I only had about a half hour worth of work left, two fittings and nine bolts holding the clips that hold the brake line in
I only had two bolts left to tighten up when my life changed forever.
I watched the jack move, in a slow surrealistic way, from my vantage underneath the car. The next moment the car fell on top my head.
Excruciating pain. My survival instincts kicked in, and I struggled to extract myself from under the car, to no avail. My head was pinned sideways,
firmly to the ground by the rotor, and the full weight of the car was behind it. The women had gone back inside to socialize, so I did the next
I yelled for help, several times, and furiously renewed my struggle to escape the torturous agony.
I paused my avails when a yellow ooze started draining across my field of vision. My eyesight was perpendicular to the gravel I was laying in, and my
body was outside the car, so I had no use of my hands to clear my eyes. It was then that I felt fear.
I watched the yellow ooze, helplessly fascinated, wondering if that's what brains looked liked when they seeped from your head. I began to feel
light-headed. The creamy ooze was replaced with a red tint, becoming bright red before my eyes, and blinking only blurred my vision to a cloudy pink.
I could no longer see anything clearly, and the pain subsided. I embraced the sensation of peacefulness, feeling weightless, and pondered the query
of what death feels like.
It never got dark for me, but rather increasingly brighter. I felt myself floating upwards, and I bid my body farewell, feeling the most wonderful
sensation of peace as I drifted from this reality. My last thought was of faint sirens in the distance.
I met the light. An eternity seemed to pass, and while there time didn't seem to matter. Nothing mattered, except for resting peacefully in the most
pure form of love I could ever imagine.
A feeling of negativity arose, that I wasn't supposed to be there, and on my behalf, that I didn't want to leave. That's how it felt, that something
wasn't right. The was no voice saying go back, just a gentle push backwards.
The instant after the push, an immense pressure lifted from my head, and my body took over, and I squirmed the rest of the way from under the car, and
immediately stood up.
"I need ice," I said, "NOW!"
I realized I was standing with both hands holding my left cheek, and as I looked around I realized the yard was filled with EMTs and firemen, rescue
vehicles lining the road. They were all watching me with a look of horror on their faces, and two of them were asking me questions:
"What's your name?"
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
"What day is it?"
I was annoyed. I wanted my ice. I answered all their questions promptly and without hesitation, and while verbally bandering, someone handed me a
towel wrapped in ice. AHHHH! I thought, as I placed it on my check.
"I want a mirror. Does anyone have a compact mirror?" A mirror was provided, and I surveyed my face briefly. Bloody, but no gaping wounds.
The EMTs begged me to sit down, and a chair was provided while they cleaned up the blood. They wanted to take me for a ride to the hospital, to get
head x-rays. I declined, adamantly not wanting to waste such a beautiful day in the hospital, but everyone implored me to go.
Do you know how frustrating it is to tell people something and they don't listen to you? I felt fine, I knew I was fine, a bandage for my cheek, and
I'd be fine. They didn't want to listen.
edit on 7/6/12 by Druid42 because: Had to split story