The Bright Light

When I remember that night in November when rapid response came to my hospital room, I always wonder if I experienced death.  (The Night My Heart Broke) When my mom first came into the room and asked what the nurses had given me because I looked so out of it, she knew something was wrong.  I didn't think anything was wrong -- I felt as if I just wanted to go to sleep.  I felt like I hadn't slept in two weeks and just felt an overwhelming need to just crash, right then and there.  Technically, I did crash, but not in the way I was hoping for.

Still hooked up to the crash cart

When E.R doctors and nurses were hooking me up to machines, inserting the quickest I-V I ever received, I still felt like nothing was wrong.  Even when 10 people in my hospital room were begging me to keep my eyes open and repeating, "Natalie!" over and over again, I still felt like nothing was wrong.  I just wanted to fall asleep and everyone was keeping me up.  And when my mother, standing by my bedside, looked at me with fear in her eyes as if that would be the last time she'd ever see me... I looked to her and smiled.

The weirdest, and most morbid, part about the whole thing was remembering how I felt.  I felt at my most peaceful.  I felt happiness.  My life didn't blink before my eyes or anything like that, but I felt like I had accepted everything that's ever happened and I was okay to leave it behind.  Like I did my best and that's fine by me.  During those moments were the most peaceful I had ever felt in my life.  The fact I was only 28 years old didn't cross my mind.  Not ever marrying or having children, or ever seeing myself graduate never crossed my mind.  And if something were to happen to me that night, I would have left this world happy with how I had lived it.  

Me & Mom, July 4, 2011

When the doctors injected that shot of Nitro directly into my I-V, the strangest feeling came over me.  It was the most powerful feeling I have ever felt in my life... almost as if life, literally, was coming into my body all over again.  I felt warmth in my head, to my neck, down to my hands and straight into my legs.  I remember checking to see if I had peed myself, because that is exactly the warm feeling I'm talking about.  (I didn't, by the way)

Me and Fionna

I'm no longer afraid of death after that night.  Well, I'm afraid of being shot or ran over a car -- that kind of death, but I'm talking about a natural death.  And as morbid as this sounds... I don't think I'll ever feel that peaceful again until it's my time to exit this plane of existence.   But I guess that's a good thing when you're in my position and you're health isn't so great.  The only thing that worries me is the effect my death would have on family and friends.

Death is the one great certainty in life.  Some of us will die in ways out of our control, and most of us will be unaware of the moment of death itself.  Still, death and dying well can be approached in a healthy way.  Understanding that people differ in how they think about death and dying, and respecting those differences, can help accept a peaceful death and a healthy manner of dying.

(Quick note:  I'm having an extremely difficult time right now.  Plus I need to start packing during all of this shit.  Thanks for all your well wishes.)