onawah
30th September 2011, 04:38
I think I may have posted something about my Near Death Experience a long time ago on PA, but it might have been the original PA, and I doubt if I could find it now, if those archives are still even accessible.
But I had been thinking recently about posting something about it again.
The fact that this odd conversation with DNA came about in connection with the “Angel Like Alien” thread was a little spooky.
Because I feel like I had a very real “communication” with my “Guardian Angel”, "Spirit Guides" (or whatever name you prefer), regarding my NDE.
So I decided to take those as cues that now would be a good time to share my story again.
It wasn't actually during the NDE that this spiritual connection came about however.
It was maybe 2 years later.
It wasn't one of those inspiring NDEs, with the tunnel and the white light and the loved ones waiting on the other side.
I was in a very dark and scary and excruciatingly painful place, but some friends came to the hospital while I was in the ER and my vital signs were fading.
I could feel their love and light pulling me back into my body.
I didn't want to go back there, but staying in the dark, scary space certainly wasn't a desirable option.
Perhaps I would have got to the light-filled tunnel if they hadn't shown up when they did, but I guess I will never know.
I had been hit by a speeding hit-and-run driver earlier that evening on a dark street at the foot of a steep hill in Noe Valley, San Francisco, just as I was starting to step off the curb to cross the street.
The headlights of the car that hit me weren't on, and I didn't see or hear it coming, and it actually veered off slightly from the street onto the curb where I was standing, so it was very much a case of me not knowing what hit me.
There were two eye witnesses who said the car was going very fast.
It was a broad street, with trolley tracks down the middle, so essentially it was a 3 lane street.
The impact threw me tumbling high into the air and all the way across the street to the opposite side, where I landed on my back on the concrete, hitting my head very hard.
I had broken bones in both arms and both legs, broken ribs and shoulder, a cracked pelvic bone, concussion, internal bleeding, and a crushed acetabulum (socket and top of the femur) on my left side where the car had struck me.
I was hospitalized in Intensive Care for several weeks and for 3&1/2 months in all at S.F. General Hospital, and 6 weeks at U.C.S.F. Medical Ctr. after that.
When I finally got out, I was still in a great deal of pain, and was hobbling around on crutches. I refused the Total Hip Replacement surgery because the doctors had no idea if it would work in my case, and I did not want to be their guinea pig in any case. Even if they had guaranteed success, I doubt I would have believed them. My faith in doctors was considerably shaken during my stay at S.F. General, a "teaching hospital" with a very bad reputation. (There was yet another scandal about the shoddy conditions there shortly after I was discharged.)
I had no health insurance, no family members to rely on or other support system, so I ended up living alone on Welfare in a region that was very new to me. ( I had moved from the East Coast to S.F. just 2 months before the accident, and was pretty much on my own, except for a couple of friends, one who had come with me from S.F., but who was leaving soon for Europe.
It was no fun at all.
Skip forward to almost 2 years after the accident; I was living on the Peninsula, in San Mateo, a sort of suburb of S.F.
One day I was hitchhiking on El Camino Real, the long and busy main thoroughfare, on the way to the neighboring suburb of San Bruno to see a Legal Aid lawyer.
( I was hoping I would be able to contest my case as a Welfare recipient and move up to what at that time was "Aid to the Totally Disabled", which would have upped my income considerably. )
I was walking with a cane by then. I had no car and there was no public transportation going where I needed to go, so hitching was the only way I could get to distant locations.
I wasn't too nervous about hitching on El Camino Real that day, because it was daylight and it was a busy highway, with lots of intersections.
So I barely looked at the car that pulled over and couldn't really see the driver through the closed window. In any case, I was running late, so I just got in.
The driver took off as soon as I had closed the door, and I got a quick look at his profile, then noticed an ashtray full of stinky cigarette butts and a few crushed, empty beer cans on the floor.
I didn't feel any dangerous vibes coming from the driver, but when I took a closer look, I felt some revulsion.
Have you ever seen a comic strip where there is a slovenly slob so seedy looking that there are little moths drawn, circling his head?
That was this guy.
He turned briefly and kind of leered at me :eyebrows: (although in a not entirely unfriendly sort of way), asking me where I was headed.
As soon as I saw the frontal view of his face and looked into his eyes, I knew he was the hit-and-run-driver who had struck me.
There is no way to explain this kind of KNOWING.
It was kind of like a psychic heart attack.
My pulse began to race, I felt dizzy, nauseous, and I began hyperventilating.:faint:
I was about to have a full-fledged panic attack ( my first ever), and the only thing I wanted was to GET OUT OF THAT CAR!!
I managed to choke out in a croaking voice that I needed for him to stop the car...NOW!
He stared at me with wide-eyed alarm and immediately pulled over.
I was opening the door before the car had even come to a stop, and was out of there like a shot. :bolt:
He pulled back out just as quickly, and as he pulled away, I managed to note that the car he was driving was an orange El Camino (a kind of abbreviated station wagon/pickup truck with an open bed—yes, he was driving an El Camino on the highway named El Camino Real).:car:
Just the kind of car that had struck me, according to the two eye witnesses who saw it happen.
I could not have possibly taken note of the tag numbers in the state I was in.
But there had been orange paint from the car that hit me found on my purse, and that was proof enough for me in that moment that this was the same car.
Not that I really cared so much about that just then, because something much more important was happening to me.
I KNEW that it was no coincidence that I had been picked up that day by that man.
I stood leaning up against the nearest building at hand for some time, bent at the waist, my hands clenched in fists, gasping for breath, but slowly recovering from the panic attack...
And KNOWING in my very soul that some loving presence :angel:had engineered that meeting; indeed, had answered my prayers.
For a long time, I had been stuck emotionally, frozen in time, :clock: locked in unforgiving fury and a loss of faith in myself and in Life.
I wanted to know WHO had done that to me and WHY, and I felt that until I had an answer, I could not, would not, forgive and go on with my life.
But this was not what I had expected, and it took me by complete surprise.
Actually, I had not expected an answer at all, and certainly not THIS answer.
Now that I knew that the man who had hit me was more of a hapless, witless moron more than an evil, murderous person, I realized there was no reason for what had happened other than that he was most likely an alcoholic and an oblivious soul who had probably no clue as to what he had done.
It no longer mattered so much WHY this had happened to me; whether it was some kind of karmic retribution or just something that had happened to me by default, because I had not been able to find the strength to avoid that juncture in my life's path and create a more positive one.
The fact is that I had known the morning of my NDE that I should not have gone out that day, but I went anyway.
As I found out much later, there was a huge CME that day, which is known to cause all kinds of physical, mental and emotional problems in humans, and I was intuitive enough to feel the danger that morning before I even went out.
So in a way, it may have been my own fault what had happened as much as it was his.
But I knew the responsibility for my life was my own, regardless, and clinging to my feelings of victimhood was counterproductive.
But as I stood there, dizzy and gasping-- blessing of all blessings-- I could feel the rage draining out of me, and that empty space was being filled instead with the knowledge that I was not alone, that I was loved and that there was meaning in Life, even in the midst of the pain, tragedy and shattered dreams.
And because I had received an answer to my prayer, I was able to let go at last and forgive the unknown soul I had perceived as my enemy.
It took much longer for me to begin to forgive myself, and to pick up the threads of my life so that I could begin weaving them into a more meaningful pattern again.
But it was a huge turning point for me, and I knew that I was going to be able to find life worthy of living again.
Though it would not be easy, it was made so much easier because I finally knew that I really was not alone.
Thanks to that loving higher Self, spirit or spirits :angel: or whatever or whoever it was who knew me so well, and was able to provide for me the means to the insight that I so needed.
But I had been thinking recently about posting something about it again.
The fact that this odd conversation with DNA came about in connection with the “Angel Like Alien” thread was a little spooky.
Because I feel like I had a very real “communication” with my “Guardian Angel”, "Spirit Guides" (or whatever name you prefer), regarding my NDE.
So I decided to take those as cues that now would be a good time to share my story again.
It wasn't actually during the NDE that this spiritual connection came about however.
It was maybe 2 years later.
It wasn't one of those inspiring NDEs, with the tunnel and the white light and the loved ones waiting on the other side.
I was in a very dark and scary and excruciatingly painful place, but some friends came to the hospital while I was in the ER and my vital signs were fading.
I could feel their love and light pulling me back into my body.
I didn't want to go back there, but staying in the dark, scary space certainly wasn't a desirable option.
Perhaps I would have got to the light-filled tunnel if they hadn't shown up when they did, but I guess I will never know.
I had been hit by a speeding hit-and-run driver earlier that evening on a dark street at the foot of a steep hill in Noe Valley, San Francisco, just as I was starting to step off the curb to cross the street.
The headlights of the car that hit me weren't on, and I didn't see or hear it coming, and it actually veered off slightly from the street onto the curb where I was standing, so it was very much a case of me not knowing what hit me.
There were two eye witnesses who said the car was going very fast.
It was a broad street, with trolley tracks down the middle, so essentially it was a 3 lane street.
The impact threw me tumbling high into the air and all the way across the street to the opposite side, where I landed on my back on the concrete, hitting my head very hard.
I had broken bones in both arms and both legs, broken ribs and shoulder, a cracked pelvic bone, concussion, internal bleeding, and a crushed acetabulum (socket and top of the femur) on my left side where the car had struck me.
I was hospitalized in Intensive Care for several weeks and for 3&1/2 months in all at S.F. General Hospital, and 6 weeks at U.C.S.F. Medical Ctr. after that.
When I finally got out, I was still in a great deal of pain, and was hobbling around on crutches. I refused the Total Hip Replacement surgery because the doctors had no idea if it would work in my case, and I did not want to be their guinea pig in any case. Even if they had guaranteed success, I doubt I would have believed them. My faith in doctors was considerably shaken during my stay at S.F. General, a "teaching hospital" with a very bad reputation. (There was yet another scandal about the shoddy conditions there shortly after I was discharged.)
I had no health insurance, no family members to rely on or other support system, so I ended up living alone on Welfare in a region that was very new to me. ( I had moved from the East Coast to S.F. just 2 months before the accident, and was pretty much on my own, except for a couple of friends, one who had come with me from S.F., but who was leaving soon for Europe.
It was no fun at all.
Skip forward to almost 2 years after the accident; I was living on the Peninsula, in San Mateo, a sort of suburb of S.F.
One day I was hitchhiking on El Camino Real, the long and busy main thoroughfare, on the way to the neighboring suburb of San Bruno to see a Legal Aid lawyer.
( I was hoping I would be able to contest my case as a Welfare recipient and move up to what at that time was "Aid to the Totally Disabled", which would have upped my income considerably. )
I was walking with a cane by then. I had no car and there was no public transportation going where I needed to go, so hitching was the only way I could get to distant locations.
I wasn't too nervous about hitching on El Camino Real that day, because it was daylight and it was a busy highway, with lots of intersections.
So I barely looked at the car that pulled over and couldn't really see the driver through the closed window. In any case, I was running late, so I just got in.
The driver took off as soon as I had closed the door, and I got a quick look at his profile, then noticed an ashtray full of stinky cigarette butts and a few crushed, empty beer cans on the floor.
I didn't feel any dangerous vibes coming from the driver, but when I took a closer look, I felt some revulsion.
Have you ever seen a comic strip where there is a slovenly slob so seedy looking that there are little moths drawn, circling his head?
That was this guy.
He turned briefly and kind of leered at me :eyebrows: (although in a not entirely unfriendly sort of way), asking me where I was headed.
As soon as I saw the frontal view of his face and looked into his eyes, I knew he was the hit-and-run-driver who had struck me.
There is no way to explain this kind of KNOWING.
It was kind of like a psychic heart attack.
My pulse began to race, I felt dizzy, nauseous, and I began hyperventilating.:faint:
I was about to have a full-fledged panic attack ( my first ever), and the only thing I wanted was to GET OUT OF THAT CAR!!
I managed to choke out in a croaking voice that I needed for him to stop the car...NOW!
He stared at me with wide-eyed alarm and immediately pulled over.
I was opening the door before the car had even come to a stop, and was out of there like a shot. :bolt:
He pulled back out just as quickly, and as he pulled away, I managed to note that the car he was driving was an orange El Camino (a kind of abbreviated station wagon/pickup truck with an open bed—yes, he was driving an El Camino on the highway named El Camino Real).:car:
Just the kind of car that had struck me, according to the two eye witnesses who saw it happen.
I could not have possibly taken note of the tag numbers in the state I was in.
But there had been orange paint from the car that hit me found on my purse, and that was proof enough for me in that moment that this was the same car.
Not that I really cared so much about that just then, because something much more important was happening to me.
I KNEW that it was no coincidence that I had been picked up that day by that man.
I stood leaning up against the nearest building at hand for some time, bent at the waist, my hands clenched in fists, gasping for breath, but slowly recovering from the panic attack...
And KNOWING in my very soul that some loving presence :angel:had engineered that meeting; indeed, had answered my prayers.
For a long time, I had been stuck emotionally, frozen in time, :clock: locked in unforgiving fury and a loss of faith in myself and in Life.
I wanted to know WHO had done that to me and WHY, and I felt that until I had an answer, I could not, would not, forgive and go on with my life.
But this was not what I had expected, and it took me by complete surprise.
Actually, I had not expected an answer at all, and certainly not THIS answer.
Now that I knew that the man who had hit me was more of a hapless, witless moron more than an evil, murderous person, I realized there was no reason for what had happened other than that he was most likely an alcoholic and an oblivious soul who had probably no clue as to what he had done.
It no longer mattered so much WHY this had happened to me; whether it was some kind of karmic retribution or just something that had happened to me by default, because I had not been able to find the strength to avoid that juncture in my life's path and create a more positive one.
The fact is that I had known the morning of my NDE that I should not have gone out that day, but I went anyway.
As I found out much later, there was a huge CME that day, which is known to cause all kinds of physical, mental and emotional problems in humans, and I was intuitive enough to feel the danger that morning before I even went out.
So in a way, it may have been my own fault what had happened as much as it was his.
But I knew the responsibility for my life was my own, regardless, and clinging to my feelings of victimhood was counterproductive.
But as I stood there, dizzy and gasping-- blessing of all blessings-- I could feel the rage draining out of me, and that empty space was being filled instead with the knowledge that I was not alone, that I was loved and that there was meaning in Life, even in the midst of the pain, tragedy and shattered dreams.
And because I had received an answer to my prayer, I was able to let go at last and forgive the unknown soul I had perceived as my enemy.
It took much longer for me to begin to forgive myself, and to pick up the threads of my life so that I could begin weaving them into a more meaningful pattern again.
But it was a huge turning point for me, and I knew that I was going to be able to find life worthy of living again.
Though it would not be easy, it was made so much easier because I finally knew that I really was not alone.
Thanks to that loving higher Self, spirit or spirits :angel: or whatever or whoever it was who knew me so well, and was able to provide for me the means to the insight that I so needed.