“No one is here with me right now,” I said.
I don’t remember if I asked why they wanted to know, but the nurse said, “We are prepping the OR right now for surgery. Your abdomen is full of blood.”
“I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”
The nurse looked at me intently. “You’re not tired. You’re dying.”
She was right. I died that night. Not once, but three times. However, those deaths are not the end of my story. Little did I know then, death can be just the beginning.