These NDE accounts were submitted to our website and are published here anonymously. Minor edits have been made to protect the identity of the experiencer and others who may have been involved with the experience. Note to researchers and authors: IANDS cannot grant permission to publish quotations from these NDE accounts because we have not received permission from the NDE authors to do so. However, we advise authors who wish to use quotations from these accounts to follow the Fair Use Doctrine. See our Copyright Policy for more information. We recommend adopting this practice for quotations from our web site before you have written your book or article.
When I was nine years old, I was hit by a car while riding my bike. I was thrown 75 feet and landed on my head, injury which crushed part of my skull (it was about a pear-sized hole over my right parietal lobe). A surgeon and his wife were packing their car for a weekend trip and witnessed the accident. The surgeon immediately responded and gave me CPR and mouth- to-mouth while his wife called 911. In the three minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, I lost a third of my blood on the pavement. I was rushed to the hospital where I was given a blood transfusion. My ruptured spleen was removed and over the course of the next eight hours shards of bone were removed meticulously from my brain by two neurosurgeons. My vital signs dropped and I fell into a coma.
I was born on January 27, 1940 in Moline, Illinois during a taxi ride to the hospital with my parents. It was around 9:00 in the morning. My birth began as we approached the hospital. I was about halfway when the driver went fast around a turn and the car slid into a snow bank. Everyone slid to one side of the cab. My mother's legs came together, and she crushed my head with her hands. At the hospital, we were rushed inside where a doctor finished the delivery. He told my parents that I was dead with a crushed head. He started massaging my heart, cleared my air way, and pushed my head so it wasn't so mashed. I started breathing again.
In October 2001, I had surgery to remove precancerous growths from my colon. I had this exact surgery once prior, and it was ineffective for some reason. Begrudgingly, I agreed to go through the procedure again with a new doctor. At this time in my life I had been through a series of recent events that had left me numb emotionally. I might want to preface my story with the facts that I am a gay man, who was raised in a very strict "Born-Again Christian" home. When I was a kid, I held those beliefs close to my own detriment. I have never for a moment believed there was anything wrong with me, and I always knew I was made by God in his image. I just had held faith that God knew more than I, and therefore my life was different than what others had thought it should be. The fact I was gay had always been a point of contention with family, up to that point anyway. My husband of 10 years had died at age 39 in June 2000 after a two-year battle with testicular cancer. To say I was devastated by this loss after having fought beside him, and when necessary for him, is an understatement. At the time, I was "coasting" I suppose through life, wondering what it all meant. This was also just a few weeks after September 11th. I was wondering if the world was feeling the same as I was, considering the insanity we all had witnessed and been shaken by so deeply. During what should have been a quick and simple procedure that began about 10 a.m., I found out later that the anesthetist had felt I was coming around at one point during surgery, and chose to administer another full dose. Being seriously allergic to all forms of Opiates limits greatly what can be used. On that day it was a combination of IV Valium and Demerol, I think. After I was given another full dose I was told later my heart stopped during surgery, and it took a full 80 seconds to get it to start again.
I grew up in a small town, population approximately 3,000. I knew almost nothing of other religions/philosophies outside of Christianity. In 1976 I had major surgery to remove an acoustic neuroma. Two neuro-surgeons alternated performing the surgery that lasted 12 hours. I spent six hours in recovery and a day in ICU. Prior to surgery at about 5 a.m., I was given medication in my room to begin the anesthesia. As I faded away and couldn't keep my eyes open, my mother and brother prayed over me. My brother put his hands on top of my head during the praying, and I had intense flashes of white light inside or over my head. I "knew" I would be all right. I cried while being wheeled out of my room, and remember saying to the nurse I didn't know why I was crying because either way I was going to be all right. I don't remember anything more after that. Next I realized I had floated to the ceiling, but I had no form or body.
At 18 years old I had an experience that I will never forget. Call it a NDE or whatever you want, but it was fantastic. At the time, I was in a very destructive phase in my life, living in youth homes and having an uncertain future. I had mostly dark and hostile thoughts. One day a female staff member and I had been shopping and enroute to the car to go home. We were crossing a transitional place. It was a two-lane road refuge to another. We crossed the first road and then stopped for a red light together with a lot of other people in the refuge. Standing far ahead, a large van stopped in front of the transition and waved us forward. I looked toward the red light and got the perception that it was green for us. I went in front of the van, yet in the corner of my eye I saw a red car coming straight toward me and thought "Now I die!" But, I still had time to think that I had to go up against the cap in order to have the best chance. It felt like I hit the hood and windshield. Then something very strange happened. Suddenly I was in the middle of another dimension.
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