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Man in liver-failure coma dies twice and can now sense truth

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After many years of drinking due to the intense stress of my career, I eventually developed cirrhosis.  While on the liver transplant list, the ammonia buildup from my failing system sent me into a coma with intestinal blockage and numerous other complications.  I was sent to the local hospital and then transported to Tampa General Hospital.  I was placed in a deep coma while the physicians attempted to figure out what to do.  Eventually, the doctor told my wife and mother that I would never leave the room I was in.  I was later told that I was clinically dead on at least two occasions.  My last memory prior to the experience was trying to attend my daughter's school open house, and not feeling well, so we went home and I went to sleep.  I never woke up.

I remember suddenly being fully aware and conscious, lacking any dreamlike quality.  I remember a feeling of peace, and floating in a “blackness” that was somehow light. 

I remember being aware for what seemed like a moment, then a voice, singing, having a tone and melody in its speech, sang, “He's letting go, he wants to let go.”

A “force” (I do not know how else to describe it; I am literally incapable of describing it) then said something I perceived with overwhelming magnitude and power, in a synesthetic manner that shot through me, that I heard, tasted, smelled, saw, somehow felt, all at once with an all-consuming will: “He isn't finished yet.”

My next perception was suddenly waking up in the ICU, and I remember looking out the window, seeing the cruise ship smoke stacks (TGH is located directly across from Tampa's port), the other downtown buildings, the rough cotton hospital blanket, and seeing a surprised looking nurse run out of the room, before a doctor came in.

The following four months were spent in the hospital, where I was informed I was approved for a transplant and a suitable donor was located.  I left the hospital weighing 114 pounds.  I am a six-foot two-inch man.  My health steadily improved over the following years.  I was too weak to turn over in bed when I left the hospital, and now I am a healthy weight and in good condition.

 I believe that after I died, I heard God speak.  For the first two years after I came back there was a period of mental chaos and dullness, but now I feel, in fewer words, almost “Enlightened” in some way. I genuinely do not fear death in a way that almost scares me.  The thought came into my head one day, unbidden and apropos of nothing, that I somehow knew with certainty was true: “Death is irrelevant.”  The thought genuinely scared me because it seems so odd.  I certainly have no desire to die; quite the opposite.

I feel like I somehow “sense truth” now in a way I cannot articulate.  I cannot even fully put into words what it is I am sensing, but it is there, I cannot deny it, and it is growing in some way.  I see everything in my life in a different light, and now I am irrevocably changed from who I was before all this happened to me. 

I was told by the doctors that I would need lifelong support to control my drinking urges, and that a major reason for graft failure was drinking. Also, they wanted to put me on SSRI's to help manage the trauma of the experience. After a year or so, I simply told my doctor I didn't want them anymore, and tapered off.  The feeling of clarity and peace has grown more intense.  Furthermore, my addiction fell away from me like a lead weight after the experience.  I have never had an urge to drink again. 

I feel like everything in my life is falling into place, and seemingly disparate threads are connecting somehow.  I would not wish the agony of what I went through on anyone, but now I consider it the most important experience of my life.