How did you accept the anticipated end? Did you rage against the dying of the light? Accept it gracefully? How did you prepare to die when you thought you were going to die?
I shot back.
I loaded the saved game.
Mine is pretty lame, but I’ll tell. It was the middle of the night, and I got a bad pain in my chest on the left-hand side. We couldn’t think of anything to do except get me into the shower and hope that hot water helped, so I did that. The pain got worse and worse, and then my left side started going numb, so that I couldn’t move my arm very well. I figured I must be having a heart attack–I was in terrible pain, and what else could it be? So here’s what I thought:
“Great. I’m having a heart attack. I’m gonna die, and I’ve got a 10-month old baby. This is not cool.”
Then I asked mr. genie to call 911. After a while, the pain started to abate. It took another attack and another 911 call to figure out that I had gallstones. So that’s kind of embarrassing–I thought I was going to die of a heart attack, and it turned out I had gallstones. :o
astro-
Did not intend for my first reply to be sarcastic or funny.
I’m not sure I could really accept that I was going to die. I’ve been in a couple of serious accidents, attacked by gun-weilding maniac, and had a cancer scare.
In each case, it was only much much later that I really accepted the fact that I had been lucky enough to escape death. Many things went through my mind, but there was always denial.
genie, you’re not alone on that one.
My worst gallstone attack (undiagnosed as such, at the time) woke me up out of a sound sleep, and made me think more than a little of a heart attack, too.
I can’t say that I was convinced I was going to die, but before Mrs. Skeezix got home, and got me to the ER, the idea that dying might not be so bad flashed through my mind. Them buggers hurt.
I do recall thinking briefly, “Just don’t let her be the one to find me on the floor.”
astro - yes. I am not embellishing or dramatising in any way.
Couple of years ago I was on vacation in Mexico (Baja California). First day ever, surfing. Was with a friend (also a newbie surfer) and another guy who was way more advanced. Eventually (stupidly) my newbie friend and I went to join our advanced friend - he was in a different part of the ocean, with real waves, rocks etc. We were way out of our depth and had no business being in that place. My friend saw the danger and paddled his way in to shore, as did our more advanced friend. However, I didn’t see it coming - I was getting pulled further out to sea by the current. I also had to swim against the current (usually a bad idea) or risk being pounded on sharp rocks by what seemed like huge waves. My two friends were shouting at me to try to swim ashore, but I was out of energy, and gulping down water. It was a very remote beach so no chance of getting help. If they had dived back in it would have been suicidal for them.
Each wave pounded me under. I was out of air, and exhausted. I swear to you, I was absolutely 100% convinced I was going to die. I was frightened, actually terrified, but overlaying that emotion was one of bemusement - Wow, this is how I’m going to die, in the ocean in Mexico. I had pretty much given up hope, but decided to vainly try to swim to shore anyway. I’m a very average swimmer - one more reason I had no business being in that part of the ocean. I also remember thinking at the time, if ever I was going to believe in god (I’m an atheist), it would be now, at this moment…but I still don’t.
Suddenly I realize my feet are touching the sea bed. I have no idea how I got close enough to the shore. I make it up on to the shingle and collapse, unconscious almost. My friend revives me (I’m not sure to this day if they realized the trouble I was in). Within the next hour I vomited 6 times…fell asleep shortly after and slept for 16 hours.
Astro?..is there something you need to tell us? Did I miss something, or is this a curiousity question?
(I don’t have a story to tell, I was just a little worried)
Okay, mine’s not very bright, but here goes.
I was with a bunch of people swimming in Gunpowder State Park in an area of the river that many people swim in, but you really aren’t supposed to.
I can’t swim, but I hang in the shallower areas and lay in the water, sit on the rocks in the river, and do stuff like that. I saw a girl that was with us start floundering and I saw her panicking. No one else saw her, I yelled but no one paid attention. She went under, then came back up, I waded in to get her… knowing full well it was stupid, but I was out of options. I got to her right when the water hit the top of my shoulders and grabbed her. Of course she grabbed back… much stronger than I thought she would be able to. My feet went out from under me and I kind of threw her towards the shallows, but I went under. I remember looking up at the sun, trying to get my feet to stay at the bottom, thinking, “Gee, this sure is a stupid way to die…”.
Obviously, I did get my feet to stay at the bottom and I stood up. The water came to just over my chin. I couldn’t move without going under again. The girl I had gotten into the situation for was looking at me from shore, but wasn’t going to help. I finally got someone’s attention, who helped me get into shallower water.
My experience is in this thread; well, it’s the OP.
the closest i’ve ever felt i’ve come to nearly dying was riding my horse in the hunt field.
you have to understand, first, that he’s a former racehorse. which means that he’s not wired real tight all the time, if you know what i mean. (my husband’s pet name for him is Demon Horse from Hell. BION, he’s actually quite affectionate and loves to be praised. it’s just his brain doesn’t always process actions that are exactly praiseworthy. i say its his upbringing, the horsey equivalent of an abused childhood. but i digress…)
so he’s a tad, shall we say, excitable at times. (translation: it’s a bitch to control him when he’s worked himself into a hysterical fit.) the hunt is starting out on a decent fall morning. we’re (all the members of the hunt field) trotting briskly across a big open grass field. Cass-man (the horse) doesn’t do well in crowds in the best of times – probably reminds him of the pack heading around the track. suddenly, instead of just prancing dancing and being hyper, he’s flat out running straight across the field, headed away (thankfully) from everyone else.
i have no more control over him at this point than i would a runaway freight train. good thing it’s a big open field, but we’re heading eventually toward a stand of trees. specifically, we’re arrowing straight toward a big ol’ deadfall at the edge of the trees. now picture a tree that has died, but held on fairly intact until the wind snapped it about halfway down its length. we’ve got an inverted-V going on here, with the upper portion at maybe a 45 degree angle to the remainder of the trunk. my unguided missile is heading full tilt towards the inside of that inverted V. unfortunately, also occupying that space are the jagged remainders of many branches. i’m not talking twig-sized branches, either. IF insane horse actually manages to clear these natural bungee sticks, there’s no way in hell that i’m going to escape being shredded.
that business where they say an incredible calm comes over you during a really big crisis? it’s true. i distinctly thought “well, i’m going to die now.” (for anyone wondering why i wasn’t bailing out of the saddle at that point – it’s much trickier trying to do that when you’re riding sidesaddle. plus, i dunno, it’s like my mind just doesn’t even seriously consider that as an option.) i just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too terribly much.
the good news was, either the little dummy had finally had enough room to run out the excess adrenaline and finally started paying attention to the real world (and his flight path) again, or else my guardian angel finally whacked his head hard enough to get through to him. probably about 10 lengths away from the tree, i could literally see him notice what was coming up in front of us. i’m sure he had as big an “OH SHIT!” moment then as i’d had 2 minutes earlier. about 3, 4 lengths away from the tree, he peeled off in a 90 degree turn. (at that point, thank God for the sidesaddle. i’m not sure i could have stayed on otherwise!)
i got him pulled to a stop probably within 50-100 feet after that. rider and horse had an Intense Private Discussion about the whole matter afterwards. that’s pretty much the last bolting incident he’s ever had that didn’t have (what he regarded as) a Big Scary Moment as a trigger … and even then, he doesn’t run more than a few lengths before he realizes that i’m not going to let the (phantom) bears eat him.
such is the perversity of the human mind. i may not have actually been facing death then, as opposed to when my pony put me into Intensive Care many years before that. but it sure felt like it, at the time.
Thanks for the concern but the reason I am asking is a few things bubbled to the surface and it made me curious about how people handle the impending end of life. My father died a slow (over the course of a year) and agonizing death from a melanoma in 1980 when I was 18 and was in such desperate pain and under heavy sedation towards the end that little lucid or extended conversation was possible.
I was too young and traumatized at the time to get a handle on what was going through his mind other than the fact that he was very sad he was dying at age 60 and leaving us all alone.
I was listening to Moby’s song “When It’s Cold I’d Like To Die” last night and it occurred to me that at age 45 I may only have a decade or two left and I wanted to know how people resigned themselves to death. The knowledge of impending certain death has got to change a person’s world view. I want to understand how.
When I had my stroke I didn’t think “I’m about to die.” All I thought was “GOD DAMN I’VE GOT A HEADACHE!” Then, lights out. I woke up a few days later.
I was in many life threating situations from falling through ice - having to swim through ice/water to reach shore, to being on a icy slope (60%+ grade) w/o any crampons or ice ax to having to make a 3000 ft accent & decent and a long hike out before dark during the spring thaw, with several stream crossings that were more like rivers and bridge washouts (I actually build a bridge at one point to get accross). Funny how all seem to involve water in one state or another.
But each and every time I was not thinking about death, it was not an option, it didn’t enter my mind (serious injury did).
What did I do?
Take a look at my situation, and proceed in the way that was most likely not to result in serious injury, one step at a time. The way I saw it there was not really a choice most of the time. Where there was I usually (for some reason unknown to me) took the harder way out.
After the event I saw how close to dieing I really came, but at the time it just wasn’t a reality.
I was driving too fast on a straight stretch of road (about 90). I topped a rise and saw a curve. I was 19 years old. I stomped the brake, of course, and tried to steer into the curve. I felt the car start to roll over at that point. I knew how fast I was going and that the car was no longer under my control. What did I think to myself? “Well, I’m along for the ride now.” The car rolled over from one side of the road to the other. It rolled over again twice more in the ditch. I was not wearing a seat belt. When the car came to a stop (right side up) I got out. The back end of the car had been down in the ditch and looked like a crumpled piece of paper. The back seat was crushed. My door was ripped off. I managed to stay in the car due to a death grip on the steering wheel…and my only injury was a left ankle sprain. That and the unmounted 8-track tape player hitting my thigh before flying out of the car. I had a bruise from knee to hip. Statistically, I should have died.
Thirty years later, I still get chills thinking about this one.
I had just graduated from college, and waiting for my draft notice. So, assuming that I would be killed in Vietnam anyway, I headed off on a motorcycle with some buddies.
Zooming out of Yellowstone Park ahead of a thunderstorm, I took a curve too fast, and as I rounded the curve, my bike crept closer and closer to the edge of the road. The asphalt had about a 3-4 inch drop to a lot of loose gravel, then a small rocky ditch a few feet deep and wide, then a jagged granite rock wall.
I was afraid to hit the brakes too hard but time seemed to slow down as my front wheel neared the edge, and even seemed to overhang it a bit. I just knew my next sensation would be the feeling of dropping off the edge and being flung forcefully into the rocks. The result would have been pretty much what you see when you throw a rotten tomato against a brick wall.
Then, amazingly, the front tire started to creep back onto the road. I stopped at the first opportunity and had the shakes.
When I had my son, I was sure I would never live to see him, but I think I was just being a little psychotic. I was never in any danger that I know of, but I was having a c-section and it was so cold in the OR that I was really trembling and thought I was having a seizure and was dying.
It did dawn on me that some of my gallbladder attacks were heart attacks too.
The calmness thing, it’s true, I think.
I got pelted in the head with a rock when I was in Israel. Started bleeding like a fountain. Colapsed, and luckilly a soldier was right nearby to help get me on a tour bus that could get me to a hospital. I remember very distinctly -hearing- people trying to talk to me, but not actually hearing what they were saying. I looked out the window and I saw the sun rising. I remember saying, “Please, Ghod, don’t let this be the last one I see.”
(obviously, it wasn’t. And oddly enough, the hopsital story is kinda humorous, but I’ll save it for another thread.)
I was 4 years old or so, and my mom and aunt (both certified advanced lifesavers; my aunt teaches lifesaving classes every year for a summer camp) took me out into the ocean near Atlantic City on a belly board. I’ve always loooooved the surf, especially bodysurfing, and started learning to swim pretty much as soon as I could walk, even though I pretty much suck at everything else athletic.
Anyway, even with one of them on each side of me, a humungo wave came up and knocked me off the board and under the water’s surface. My mom and aunt pretty much both had the wind knocked out of them, and by the time they surfaced, I was nowhere in sight. The details after that are sort of fuzzy, but I just remember the cloudy water swimming in front of my eyes, and then waking up lying on my back on the beach, with a big lifeguard standing over me.