I am off to hospital this morning to have my second MRI brain scan – just the way to bring in the New Year.
It has been scheduled two months after my brain haemorrhage and, hopefully, it will show that things are on the mend inside my head.
Since people have found out about my illness which left me unconscious at home for six hours in , I suspect, the deepest of comas, they have asked me those questions about near death experiences. I have had to disappoint all those who wanted me to reveal amazing images of lights at the end of a tunnel, a kind man in sandals or people in white gowns and wings.
I am sorry to disappoint anyone else out there looking for a sign.
It was the blankest, most vivid experience of nothingness that I can imagine.
Going back to hospital today, I am thinking of those fortunate people who, in times of personal danger, can get onto their knees and pray for deliverance, peace of mind, or salvation.
Kneeling at the foot of the altar seems so natural, so right. As a child, in fear, I wanted to curl up and pray. Or just curl up and hide.
I have done this later in life as well. Curled up, foetus like before that great-unknown world of the spirit.I felt small, crushed, and vulnerable but, just some times, loved by some power that I never understood.
I could kneel there now but I don’t – I could look for God, Mother Earth, some other great and, oh I wish, loving being.
But no either I left them or they left me. I love them, wish them to be there but when in that coma the light went out for me, I learnt the truth and wept.Then I moved on – laughing with love for the human spirit and strangely moved by man and his religion.I often walk the road to Damascus…. who knows? Certainly not me.