When I was 5 years old, I had an operation to remove my tonsils. Unknown to the doctors, I had a very low enzyme level of Cholinesterase.  At that time, with the anesthesia that was used, it was very dangerous.  It was like a huge overdose because my body could not break down and absorb the anesthesia. 

I found myself near the ceiling of the operating room. I watched as a man was pushing up and down on my chest. I saw more people in the room than when I went in. There was it seemed a machine or something behind my head. But I really wasn't interested. 

I moved down to watch the man in the mask with the white thing on his head. I was at his side. Looking at his face. White sideburns. I knew his name. Dr. White. I felt his distress. Next, I am again near the ceiling. 

I am so overwhelmed with unconditional love. Just no words. Totally, totally loved. At the same time I experienced a oneness. How to describe. Everything...People. plants, animals, stars, rocks, space, just everything in creation is connected. And love is the connection. Wow.

Reading this sounds nuts. Also, I saw an unbelievably bright white light to my left. I thought, “Oh, that must be a window.” Then I went towards it. Next thing, I felt like a rubber band snapped and I was propelled like a missile into my body.

My mother said it was 7 hours before they would say I woke up in recovery and was okay. I remember waking up in recovery and a nurse said, “Sleeping beauty has woken up.” Then, waking up to see my mother and family doctor standing beside my bed.

First thing I said was directed at my doctor. I said, “I died, didn’t I?” I still vividly remember the blood draining from my mother's face. She went white. He turned to her and said, “Sometimes, they know. I don't know how, but sometimes they know.”

I spoke with him years later when I was 16. He told me the doctor that saved my life was named Doctor White. And that the things I described in the room were correct. He said the first time, I had a cardiac and respiratory arrest for 3 and a half minutes. Apparently, there was at least one more, but he didn't go into detail.

Not that long after the experience itself, when I was 5 years old, I remembered more but didn't tell anyone. I understood that no one wanted to hear and that no one would believe me. Especially since it seemed bad to talk about what happened. I just seemed to get hit with it: I walked over a little bridge. Bow shaped. There was a bench. It was so beautiful and peaceful. There was a man in a robe. I felt so loved. We talked for what seemed a long time. I knew Him to be Jesus. (I was brought up in church, so I believe the source is what is comfortable for you.) I wanted to stay. I was told no. You have to go back. Also, your mother needs you. That's when I was zipped? Thrown? Back. I have no memory of the conversation. But I knew that was home.