Two days ago, a rash appeared in my face. It made me feel uncomfortable and made me also to scratch myself a lot – like all rashes usually do.
During the work day, this rash expanded to my neck, chest, and appeared as well in my arms. I thought it might be some sort of allergy, although I’m not allergic to anything, as far as I know. Perhaps some Spring pollen attacked me, or whatever.

Anyway, around 21.00, I decided to go to the ER to check if it might be something serious, like food poisoning or a chemical allergy of some sort.
There, the doctor quickly prescribed me a shot of cortisone, to be administered immediately; you know, the nurse comes, you show her your bare you-know-what, and she pinches you with a syringe in the you-know-what, and you’re good to go.
I can’t stand needles. I’m that kind of person who, while watching that scene in Pulp Fiction where John Travolta is injecting himself with heroin, had to look away. When I have to do blood tests, I have to be lying down so that the nurse can take blood.
It’s not about looking at blood and fainting; it’s about the needles through my body. To summarize, I couldn’t go for an acupuncture appointment, because I’d die in the process of a heart attack due to incredible stress; which is stupid, because I have several piercings and a tattoo, and I didn’t faint when I did any of them…

Well, I went in, bared my you-know-what, while the nurse explained that the fluid she was going to inject would perhaps hurt a little bit. She also said she was to give me two shots of medicine. So, I grabbed the counter as hard as I could and prepared myself.
When she pinched me and I started feeling the fluid into my body, I complained that it was hurting: “Aw, aw, aw…”. Then, all I said was: “I’m not feeling so good…”. Then, the party began…

I went from black to seeing F. and the nurse, each holding one of my legs up, while I was lying down, calling my name nervously. For a few seconds, I had no idea where I was or what had happened; it was as if they were waking me up from a dream at 7.00 in the morning. And when I realised what happened, I started laughing, which must have made F. and the nurse feel stupid, and at the same time, relieved. I was back with the living.
I had to stay put for half an hour before I could move again. My tongue was stuck, and I couldn’t speak; when I tried to move my fingers, I was frozen. My blood pressure was something like 9/6, and I even had a machine plugged on me to measure my heart rate, just like in TV.
It wasn’t an allergic reaction to a medicine for an allergic reaction: it was the stupid needle.

From their perspective, this is what happened: I said “I’m not feeling so good…” and I swooned. I didn’t faint; I swooned down. Mu pupils went black, my body temperature froze, and I became rigid as a corpse. The nurse couldn’t hold me – I’m big, I know – so F. had to run and help her put me in a stretcher. My eyes were wide open, so they never realised I was out. For them, I was there and they didn’t know what was happening.

As soon as I could move, I ran away from the ER as fast as I could, went to a Burger King and had the biggest super size menu they had, so I could stuff myself with enough sugar to prevent this to happen ever again in the next 40 years.
Moral of the tale: other than lay down when being administered shots at the hospital, I have to say I must rethink the whole concept of the tunnel and the light, and your loved ones coming to take you to eternal life. Nothing like that happened.
I was just like sleeping, and it felt good. But no mystical experience…