07/26/2024
Woman in Coma Visits the Other Side and Discovers Love in Nature
After an accidental lithium poisoning caused me to flatline, I found myself in a coma, a consequence of my doctor’s overprescription. Despite months of unexplained illness and troubling symptoms, no action was taken until my lithium levels were deemed toxic and Poison Control intervened.
Following my ER treatment, I was admitted to the ICU for three days and spent about a month on Short Term Disability. I also sought therapy for trauma care for around ten months.
It all began one evening (6/30/23 around 8:00 PM) after dinner. I got into my pajamas, settled in to watch Family Guy, and started vomiting while drifting in and out of sleep. That’s the last thing I recall. Then, I experienced this:
I saw a tiny pinhole of light that quickly closed into darkness. Confirming its end, I felt a profound sense of freedom and relief. I no longer felt any attachment to the people I left behind, though I deeply missed my beloved dog, Maya.
Floating toward a vast, golden light, I entered a serene realm where nature flourished. The colors were so vivid, the blue of the sky and water dazzling like diamonds. The waves’ melody, the wind’s wisdom, and the amplified scents of the sea, fresh grass, and potent flowers created an overwhelmingly beautiful experience.
There was no sun, just a constant warm, golden light enveloping everything. I stood barefoot in a meadow, marveling at the stunning scenery, but I felt lost. I wondered if I was meant to stay or move somewhere else. The absence of my beloved animals, whom I expected to find at the Rainbow Bridge, puzzled me.
I called out, “HELLO???? I THINK I’M LOST… ARCH ANGEL? SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI?” A soothing, masculine voice responded, not through telepathy but at a deep soul level: “Do not be confused. You may not be where you should be.”
Confused, I pleaded, “I thought I’d see my animals. Aren’t they supposed to be waiting for me?” The voice replied, “Not just yet. It is still being decided. Patience at this time.”
Though patience isn’t my strong suit, I sensed the importance of trusting this guidance. Despite the absence of familiar faces, I felt a profound, overwhelming love embedded in the nature around me. It was a love that accepted me completely, without judgment or the need to meet others’ expectations.
The voice instructed, “You must return.” I was devastated, having thought I’d found my place. I pleaded, “Please don’t make me go back. I’m ready to stay and help from here.”
But the response was firm: “Victoria, you have tasks awaiting you. You have messages to give. Your work is not finished. You were given gifts to use.” Though exhausted, I was assured, “Find your strength in The Lord Your God, who will guide you.”
As I was gently lifted, I asked if I could see my fur babies. “Yes. Your Maya awaits you.”
On 7/1/23 at 4:10 AM, I woke to a nurse inserting a needle, and I was informed of the near loss of my life.
Ten months later, Maya passed away just before I began a new job as a Social Service Coordinator and a Hospice Aide, roles that seemed predestined for me despite lacking formal training. Though I took a significant pay cut, I find joy in my work and trust in the provision for my needs.
In hospice care, I know I will be guided to help others transition peacefully, a role I embrace despite my initial reluctance. I’ve made peace with returning, understanding that my journey has a purpose. I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve and trust in divine timing.
Though I still miss Maya, I’ve found solace in the path I’m on, navigating the uncertainty with newfound acceptance and peace.
