A near-death experience. Something many have written about, so I don’t think I have much new to add. Still, I wonder—how close do you have to get to death to feel that enlightenment people talk about? That electric jolt that wakes you up, makes you feel born again. Changed. Changed in a way that makes your life better, richer. Where gratitude becomes second nature, risks stop feeling risky, and stepping into the unknown is as easy as sipping your morning cup of joe. But that wasn’t my experience. I didn’t change. I didn’t suddenly feel grateful. It was like it never happened.

The Illusion of a Normal Week

It was just a normal workweek. Everyone was busy pretending to be busy, wrapping up tasks before the holidays. I was no different, doing the small things I could’ve easily left for later. But sometimes staying busy gives the illusion of control.

When the day was done, I headed home to my town—a short two-hour drive. The sea was still, the water crystal clear. I wanted to close my eyes, imagine diving deep, lying on the sea floor holding my breath as long as I could. But instead, I was swerving around potholes and bumps on that familiar road. A ride filled with thoughts, cigarettes, coffee, and music.

Home: Familiar Comforts and Family Bonds

When I got home, my family was excited to see me. I’d only been gone a few days, but the bond I have with them—it’s not something I’ve seen much of here in the States. Anyway, a few laughs with my dad, playing with the dog, feeding the grumpy cats. But first, a hug and kiss for my grandparents, who are getting old now and can barely move around. Dinner with my mom’s mysterious, always comforting cooking, and then off to bed in the room I still share with my sister. As always, we stayed up talking until we both fell asleep mid-sentence, our words trailing off into nonsense as sleep took over.

A Casual Morning, A Peculiar Dog

Morning came. My sister shook me awake. “Give me your key, I’ll take your car to get cleaned—and I’m bringing the dog.” I half-joked, “Just don’t let him pee in the car.” That dog had a weird thing for the back seat. I had this theory—it was the sea smell, a smell I couldn’t scrub out. It didn’t bother me much, but apparently, it made the perfect spot for him to do his thing.

The Sudden Blow

I stood on the balcony, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other, watching her drive away. I was barely awake. My face still unwashed, shoelaces untied. I bent down to tie my shoes—and suddenly, I felt this punch to my stomach. Hard. But I was alone. It didn’t make sense. Then came the real problem: I couldn’t breathe. My chest had collapsed on itself. I tried to draw in air, but nothing came. I was suffocating.

As a diver, you’d think I’d be ready for something like this, but I wasn’t. I hadn’t taken a deep breath before it hit. Now I was gasping, loud and raw, like scraping rust from your throat. My belly still hurt. I checked my body. Nothing. What just happened?

A Desperate Plea for Help

I didn’t know what to do. My uncle, who had just come in from Canada, was downstairs with my grandparents. I walked down the 30 steps, knocked on their door. He opened it and took one look at me. “You don’t look okay. What’s wrong?” “I don’t know,” I said. “But something’s really wrong. Can you take me to the hospital?”

He didn’t ask questions. Just grabbed the keys and drove. On the way, I realized I forgot my wallet. “I don’t have any cash,” I told him, forgetting I had insurance. “Doesn’t matter,” he said.

At the ER, they asked what was wrong. “I don’t know,” I told them. “Felt like I got punched in the stomach.” They wheeled me off for scans. Ten minutes later, the doctor came in. “You’re fine,” he said, but his face said something else.

The Unbelievable Diagnosis: “You’ve Been Shot”

“Operate? For what?” “You’ve been shot.” “What?” I always thought getting shot would be more dramatic. Blood everywhere. Screaming. But I didn’t even know it happened. Just a tiny drop of blood from a pin-sized hole—something I hadn’t even noticed.

Next thing I know, I’m in surgery. Then I wake up in bed, surrounded by family—close and distant. Apparently, the news had spread through the town, and somewhere along the way, someone said I had died. That explained the crowd.

Hospital and a World on Edge

They kept me in the hospital for 24 hours. I was itching for a cigarette. Friends came to visit, but none brought one, which annoyed me a bit. Then, we started hearing artillery. No one knew what was happening. Tension was high—there were fears the war next door might spill over. People rushed home. I was left alone in that hospital room, looking out the window, still wanting a cigarette. And wondering what was happening outside. Was everyone okay? Was this the start of war—again?

Strange Disconnection: A Brush with Fate

But those hours alone… they were strange. I felt disconnected. As if nothing really happened to me. As if I just brushed past something terrible. A stray bullet, they say, and while statistics can tell you the odds of that happening in America, they can’t explain the feeling when it’s you. Hit my stomach, missed everything vital—just tore through muscle, nicked near the kidney. That’s it.

The Lingering Question: Why No Change?

To this day, I don’t ask “why me?” I wrestled with that question long enough. What I really wonder is—why didn’t I change? Why didn’t I walk out of that hospital with new understanding, new appreciation, a new life? Why didn’t my lens on life upgrade? I don’t know. Maybe some people get transformed. And some just… keep going.

Maybe we don’t always need a profound shake-up, like a near-death experience, to decide to live fully. Perhaps the desire to live fully, which I write about more in this article, can grow from quieter reflections, irrespective of such defining moments.

While my own experience unfolded as it did, for those who wish to explore the broader phenomenon of near-death life experiences, nderf offers a deep repository of documented accounts and insights.

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