It hurt the entire six-hour drive, and didn't stop when we reached our rental house. It only got worse. I tried to hold it together during our time in the Disney parks, and discovered that moving around made the pain feel a bit better. I spent the whole first day pacing and going on rides to try and subdue the pain. I wasn't eating, due to the pain and the nausea that came with it.

On the second day of the trip, I experienced the worst pain I've ever felt. I tried to get through another day at the parks, but I was in too much pain, so my dad took me back to the rental halfway through the visit. By that evening, I was constantly screaming from pain, unable to stand up. I tried to crawl to the pool on the house's back patio because I wanted to get some time in the pool before we left the next day, but I was in too much pain to do anything more than belly crawl into the living room and back to my bedroom. As I was screaming, I was dragging myself between my bed and my bathroom, trying desperately to poop or throw up, but nothing would come out. I tried to ease the pain by laying on the bed, but it didn't help. I tried to eat, and managed to cram chocolates, refried beans, and grapes in, which obviously made it that much worse. Since I was unable to eat before that, part of me wonders if it was my body's attempt to flush out whatever was going on by making me sicker. Eventually, my parents decided it was more than just constipation or period cramps, and this was an emergency. 

My family took me to an ER, where they did some basic tests on me and determined there was something very wrong with me. They said I needed to get a CAT scan to see what was wrong. I remember feeling scared, but relieved that my pain was being taken seriously. Most of this part feels very fast to me. We drove to the nearest hospital and they put me in a wheelchair and took me to a room with a giant white donut. I was placed on a table and given contrast in an IV, which the nurse told me would make me feel like I was peeing my pants, even though I wasn't. She was right. I was put through the donut, and afterward, a doctor told me I had intussusception, where my small intestine had telescoped through my large intestine due to a bezoar trying to pass through and causing suction. I recognized the issue from a movie I saw called "Miracles from Heaven," where the little girl had the same problem I did. The doctor was surprised I knew about the condition.

After my CAT scan, I was wheeled into an ambulance, and my mom got into the front seat with the driver. This was my favorite part. My mind had blanked out the trauma of the whole situation to instead find everything to be incredibly fun. I took note of how the gurney was clicked into the ambulance so that it wouldn't roll away, which I didn't know they did. An EMT sat with me and made sure I was okay the whole ride. I remember hearing the ambulance and the horn and imagining what we must look like zooming down the highway. I thought, "Now I get to be the one in the ambulance!" 

We got to the children's hospital and I was taken in for emergency open abdominal surgery. I don't know how long the surgery was. I remember I was in a side room with a curtain and a bald man leaned over me and was talking to me. Then I was asleep. My condition was extremely rare and usually only happens in elderly and infants, not teenagers. I was in a tiny percentage of a percentage of people who had intussusception at my age. However, the surgeon who operated on me had done the exact same surgery on another teenager right before my operation. I can't explain the chances or the timing of it all, but whatever it was, it was meant to happen the way it did. I sometimes wish I could meet the other patient, but I don't know who it was.

Instead of dreaming, I found myself in a gray void. I noticed it was specifically charcoal gray. It had a top and a bottom, like a room, but they were vague. There was no end to it horizontally. It just faded into darkness. The void was warm, comfortable, soft. I felt safe and embraced. The void was alive and aware, and it was looking at me with an energy of kindness and love and recognition. It was like we were old friends that hadn't seen each other in a while, but the love hadn't faded. I remember it feeling like, "Oh! It's you! I remember you. Hello again!" I still miss that friend sometimes. I was only there for what felt like a few long seconds. It's hard to distinguish how many. Anywhere between five to thirty seconds. I felt incredibly aware and awake during this time. I remember either thinking or saying (or a mix of the two), "Huh... It's dark here." And then I woke up in the recovery room.

I didn't know that what I had experienced was an NDE until later. I didn't talk about it at first. I was in a lot of pain, but it was a different pain now. A healing one. I had four inches of intestines removed, so I was on a liquid diet. Since it was a hospital in Orlando, I got full access to every Disney movie I could imagine. Of course, I wasn't able to compete with my Irish troupe, so they all came to visit me in the hospital and gave me cards and gifts. My best friend in my troupe gave me an evil eye bracelet. I still have it somewhere. I hope she's doing well. I wasn't able to move easily after my surgery, so my parents stayed with me 24/7 while my brother watched the rental house. They helped me to the bathroom and through the hallways while I relearned how to walk through the pain. I loved that time, since the nurses were so kind and uplifting. Every day, I would walk a little further around the halls until I could do laps. The nurses cheered me on every time. I was vegan at the time, but after my surgery, I gave that up. I needed the nutrients, and I wanted to eat something tasty without having to worry about finding a meat-free version. There weren't a lot of good vegan alternatives eight years ago like there are now. 

Eventually, I brought up my "dream" with my mom. I'm lucky that one of her main topics of interest is near-death experiences, because she immediately recognized what I saw as Limbo. She told me about other people's stories she had read where they described the same place. I had no idea. It took some time to understand and come to terms with the fact that I had crossed over, even if just to the "waiting room" of the other side. But after some time, I became more comfortable to identify it as part of me. It's something I went through, something that's uniquely mine. I don't personally know anyone else who's had something like this happen, as far as I'm aware. I've had people try to discount it, say it was a dream, say it doesn't count because I wasn't pronounced dead, or just give me skeptical or doubtful looks and responses, but I'm learning to be okay with that and own my experience anyway.

I've always explored a lot with religion and struggled to find something that felt right to me. I was learning how to practice Hinduism right before my surgery, even changing the name I went by for it. My get-well cards all have that chosen name on them. After my surgery, I felt differently about religion. Not apathetic (that came later, during my late teens), but more like it wasn't as big of an issue as people made it out to be. It's all the same thing, just a higher force guiding us in this place where our souls go to learn and grow. I spent my teenhood struggling to figure out what religion I really felt was right for me, since my friend groups were all Christian, but my family is spiritual. If all rivers lead to the ocean, what's the point in picking a specific river to follow? They all go to the same place, so none of them are inherently correct. They're just rivers. Instead, I found a way of seeking guidance from nature and from ancient deities from my ancestry to help me grow in areas of my life that I struggle with.

I'm not afraid of dying anymore. I'm afraid of loss, of other people's deaths. I've had two friends die. One from suicide and one from cancer. Losing people is the painful part of death. I fear not being able to achieve my dreams before I die, but that's just more reason to chase them. When I was 18, I wanted to commit suicide due to having been in several abusive relationships, one after the other that year, but I didn't really want to die. I wanted to leave the abuse. I told a friend and he held me and told me how important I am. He saved my life that day. 

Death has always been a big topic for me. I experienced a lot of loss and deaths in the family when I was a child, so it's always been something I think about. I'm glad that my childhood fear has gotten at least some kind of answer. After my friend killed herself, I began to have paranormal experiences. I would feel a tap on the shoulder when grieving her, but no one was there. I would see the number 47 every time I missed her. Things around my house would move and the lights would turn blue. I like to think she's still here with me in her own way. 

All this is to say, death is a transition. It's another place, just like Earth. I believe that we reincarnate if we want to. I believe that our purpose on Earth is to learn love. This is a school, and we're here to learn how to love and grow, and if we haven't learned a lesson, we go through the same obstacles until we do. I believe that sin is not about being good or bad, but it’s about missing the mark. Not understanding why we're here. We're here to spread love and kindness and to learn the ways to do that. Ghosts are real, but they're memories. They exist out of love, not malice. Angels watch over us and protect us, and don't follow the natural course of time and space. I've seen what I believed to be my guardian angel ever since I was a baby, and she always looked the same. She was always pale with red hair. My friend who died by suicide was pale with red hair.

I believe my NDE helped me understand the world a bit better and gain perspective. I do feel a bit alone because very few people seem to accept or understand my story, but I know there are others out there who share my experience. I'm glad I get to share mine here.