Having been dead, I'd say it's nice being not dead. Relaxing even, knowing that things can't get much worse than what I've already been thru.
A CPR instructor once was adamant "your heart stops, you're dead." I pressed him on various edge cases, but he did not relent - and the notion suck with me. Twelve years later, a nurse in the waiting room told my wife "your husband is doing fine; they're stopping his heart now." An hour or so later it was restarted, and a few hours thereafter awoke.
Over the next few years, if not for modern medical technology I'd be dead some four times over. Not such dramatic brushes with the other side, but more reminders that not being dead is, as life progresses, ever more unusual and precious.
Like most things, there is much fear of something until you've been there - and sometimes greater appreciation of not going there. As I stand here writing this and discussing turtles with my toddler, how precious every tiny moment is being here - and how calm the knowledge that, in short order after any moment, I might not be. Nothing bothers me now - except perhaps when someone is unappreciative of the little time we have.
That's quite a story. Nothing brings out a persons ability to appreciate the moment and focus on the things that really matter in life than a close call. Suddenly what side of the wash-stand the toothbrushes are on seems to be not worth making a fuss over.
A CPR instructor once was adamant "your heart stops, you're dead." I pressed him on various edge cases, but he did not relent - and the notion suck with me. Twelve years later, a nurse in the waiting room told my wife "your husband is doing fine; they're stopping his heart now." An hour or so later it was restarted, and a few hours thereafter awoke.
Over the next few years, if not for modern medical technology I'd be dead some four times over. Not such dramatic brushes with the other side, but more reminders that not being dead is, as life progresses, ever more unusual and precious.
Like most things, there is much fear of something until you've been there - and sometimes greater appreciation of not going there. As I stand here writing this and discussing turtles with my toddler, how precious every tiny moment is being here - and how calm the knowledge that, in short order after any moment, I might not be. Nothing bothers me now - except perhaps when someone is unappreciative of the little time we have.