How Almost Dying Taught Me to Live
I only remember their faces. Expectant, with bated breath. Like sailors lost at sea, searching for the horizon. For me, they were like dimly lit lanterns, as I tried to swim ashore.
Welcome to Oz, someone said, as I opened my eyes. It was three days past Christmas, 2007. I had been in the ICU since December 26th.
Oz, I remember thinking. That sounds about right. I felt like Dorothy waking up from a dream. Except for me, there had been no tornado. No Glinda, no munchkins, flying monkeys or wicked witches either. Instead, there were EMTs, hospitals, snowstorms, doctors and MRIs, none of which I remembered. I’d been in an induced coma to stop the seizures. My dream had held nothing but a blanket of black. Missing time. Three days. To me, it felt like seconds.
Seventeen years ago today, I collapsed after an allergic reaction to a medication used for a common sinus infection. At least, that’s what the doctors blamed it on. The truth is, they weren’t sure. This…
