My Near Death Experience - Part One
by Jacqueline Synclair Chappell
Part one of two. Read Part two here
The event that allows me to say that I have experienced both heaven and hell, or at least how I would interpret them, changed my life views, my perception of death, and my spiritual direction forever. I am not asking you to change how you think, who you are, or how you believe. You may decide not to accept any of what I am telling you. I am asking you to read this with an open mind. It is not my place to change anyone. This is an extremely controversial subject and I have decided to tell my side of the story.
I am referring to my NDE, or Near Death Experience. Many doctors and scientists have tried to prove against the existence of NDE's for hundreds of years. Yet, there have been reports of such experiences for the same amount of time, if not longer.
Or, in other words, after the body is dead.
I have an auto-immune system illness. I came down with this many years ago, and back then only a handful of doctors, in the entire world, knew what this meant. Studies today have given proof that our environment, the life styles of our parents, and our personal exposures to chemicals, unnatural foods, toxic waste, and the over use of petroleum products have opened the eyes of medical science, and even the general population, to the effects such things have on living organisms. In October of 1997, I found myself an invalid, and bed ridden for several months. My health had been going slowly downhill since 1980. But, after several chemical exposures and a string of stressful life events, my health had taken a sharp turn for the worse. I developed a great lack of trust in doctors and stopped seeking their medical advice. I decided to tough it out on my own. When I could, I would read article after article on the symptoms that I was experiencing. I became unable to move on my
own, and eventually, unable to talk. My vision was blurred.
My skin was discolored and covered with boils and other open sores. Most of my joints were red and swollen. When I could, I would scream in pain. Later, I did not have the strength to scream and all I could do was moan. Eventually, even breathing became a struggle. The few times that I was taken to the hospital they would give me steroids and other chemicals that would offer temporary or no relief. I spent nine long and boring months trying to understand what was going on and trying to survive. Most of this time I had very little help and no supervision. Some days were better than others, yet the better days became less and less. I could not shower, get up for food, go to the bath room, or get out of bed by myself. There were times that I did not feel connected to the world around me. I wanted it to end. And eventually, I wanted to die.
Part one of two. Read Part two here |
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