Friday, July 13, 2007 was the luckiest day of my life. I was attending our county fair where my children show cattle for competition. I was in a show barn arena sitting about three rows up on metal bleachers. The bleachers were four rows high. I remember the lady sitting next to me yelling for help and people pulling me from in between the bleachers. I also recall people shutting the doors to the barn to send others away. I believe I had died three times during this time.

I was nine years old when I had my tonsils and adenoids removed in the doctor's office. I was then sent home. During the night I awoke and was lying in a warm pool. It was blood. I could not open eyes, but I heard them say, "She is going to die. She is hemorrhaging through her mouth and nose and we cannot pack both or she cannot breath."

I had a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, which had occurred at 6:00 pm Monday. It was the following morning before I went to the emergency room. The doctors were only giving me a 50/50 chance, and said that only my low pressure had prevented me from not having already bled out. My first recollection was a SNAP in my ears, so loud it was almost deafening; it reverberated and left my ears ringing. I was above an operation, watching from a location near the ceiling, and found it very fascinating. It didn't seem extraordinary; it was like watching TV. Nurses and doctors were sort of frenzied around the patient, and I knew she was in trouble... I was overwhelmed, and deeply sympathetic for the patient. I seemed to feel her horrendous pain, emotionally rather then physically. I couldn't really see her or even the others, with the drapes and masks etc., but then I thought, oh, that's me. But again, it was nothing extraordinary, just an acknowledgment. The brightest, whitest light annoyed me, shining onto the right side of my face. It was interfering with my ability to watch the surgery. I didn't want to quit watching the surgery, but the light kept bidding me to look away, and I looked toward it a couple of times. It was distracting me, and I wanted it go away. I watched as a long needle was thrust into the patient's (my) chest, and was a bit squeamish about that, so I did look away, and this time I moved into the light, drifting toward it.

I had a mild heart attack in April of 1999. This was following bypass surgery in March of 1990. It was during my recovery at home in the spring of 1999 that the event occurred. It was early afternoon. My wife and daughter were having their hair done downstairs in the kitchen of our townhouse by a friend who was a stylist. I told them I was very tired and went upstairs to lie down for a while. Lying on the bed I suddenly began to experience this very strange feeling almost like floating in the ocean, riding the waves. I remember feeling quite cold and unable to move around. I have no idea how long this lasted, but it seemed forever. When it subsided, I arose and was going to use the washroom when it all began again. I went to the top of the stairs and called out for my wife. When she appeared at the bottom of the stairs, I told her I felt very strange and I thought it best to call an ambulance. Later she told me that my color was very gray. She immediately called 911.