It was late September in 1997. I was 7 years old. I had a pedal bike with handlebar brakes. I was on hyperactive medication and was woken up out of a nap. We went to get my aunt, at a friend’s house, to go to karate lessons. I went down a hill and hit the front brake. I went over top of the handlebars and was entangled in the bike. I proceeded to slide over 20 feet. The handlebars were in the upper part of my torso causing a bruised liver and a gash of over 6 inches covering the crack in my skull. I split my helmet completely in half. I remember not being able to move, but then was able to get myself off the bike. I passed out as I was coming to. My friend’s mom was coming to get me. She picked me up and got me to their couch. I was still in and out of consciousness.
I had an out-of-body experience. I could see everyone in the room, including myself lying on the couch. I could see my friend’s mom crying over the top of my body. I saw my mom and grandmother coming up the road as they walked across the yard. I remember them talking about how they needed to call the rescue squad and then about how the rescue squad was taking too long. Then I took a deep breath and was back on the couch. They got tired of waiting for the Rescue Squad, so they put me in the backseat of my mom’s car and took me to the Rescue Squad. I was put on the stretcher and then rushed to the hospital. I lost consciousness again.
I went into a very dark room. I looked around and couldn’t see anything. Then all of a sudden, it got really bright. It was as if I couldn’t look up but this was the whitest, white light there. I heard a deep, soothing voice that said it wasn’t my time that I had to go back. I remember asking, ‘Why?’ The answer was, ‘It’s just not your time, son. You have to go back.’ I took a rather large, deep breath as we were going through the emergency room. The light passed over the top of me. I heard them talking about how they needed to rush some tests and that the MRI was already ready for me. Later that night, my mom said that a lady in white scrubs and red hair came in and looked her in the face. The lady had like this glow around her and she told my mom after touching me on my stomach that everything would be fine. The next morning, the doctor sent me to get another MRI and more tests. When he came back in with the results, he told my mom that if the gash had gone from six inches to no bigger than the edge of a razor blade, that I would make a full recovery, and that I will be fine.