Elenilda G

I’d like to add some details to my NDE, as I realized while writing about it in my book that I had left out very important elements. Here is my NDE in full, as it appears in my upcoming book, *The Comma of God*. Feel free to incorporate anything you find relevant into my existing account on this site. In my original submission, I only mentioned the lack of air and then the welcoming light, but I didn’t mention finding a biblical passage about the "silver cord"—the same silver thread that kept me suspended, connected to that light. I also didn’t describe the details of where I was, the glass separating me from the medical staff, or how I saw them—and my husband—looking different from reality. My husband appeared wearing an old shirt he no longer owned, and when he visited me after I woke from the coma, he was wearing that exact shirt. This detail makes all the difference in my NDE, as if it validates my experience. It was while discussing this in ChatGPT that I realized the importance of including this part of my story. **"The Silver Cord"** *"Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the silver cord is severed..."* (Ecclesiastes 12:1–6) During the surgical procedure, something unexpected happened. For reasons still not fully explained to me, the doctors struggled immensely with my intubation. Since then, all my subsequent surgeries have required video-assisted laryngoscopy—a technique that provides direct visualization of the airway, increasing safety. The fact is, I had never been intubated before, as I had never undergone surgery requiring general anesthesia. But at that moment, for several minutes, securing a safe airway with adequate oxygenation became impossible. What should have been a quick, routine procedure turned into a race against time. In that controlled environment, so often the stage for rescues and resuscitations, every second without oxygen posed a direct threat to my brain. Medicine recognizes that irreversible brain damage begins after just five minutes without oxygen. Even with minimal ventilation, prolonged inadequate oxygenation greatly increases the risk of severe neurological injury. I imagine the medical team fought with every available resource—alternative ventilation techniques, emergency maneuvers, and above all, years of experience handling critical situations. When I woke, I noticed a piece of resin from my front tooth had broken off—something that can happen during emergency intubations when saving the airway takes priority, even if it requires force in sensitive areas. For an unquantifiable stretch of time, my body hovered between life and death. Later, in the ICU, we learned the doctors had been deeply concerned about my neurological state. If I survived, severe impairment was highly likely. The stunned looks from the ICU team when I first briefly woke the next day left no doubt: something extraordinary had happened. It was as if I had crossed an invisible boundary and returned from a place few come back from unscathed. My husband says I tried to pull out the tube—I have no memory of this—and I was sedated again. It was in that interval—between my last gasp of oxygen and the return to life—that I lived an experience that forever changed my understanding of God, life, and eternity. It might sound unbelievable, but I had what medicine calls an NDE: a Near-Death Experience. I made a promise to God that I would never exaggerate or invent even a millimeter of what I lived. Only the truth. And the truth is, this experience was intense enough to alter how I see life. I woke from the coma infinitely more grateful to God for everything I’ve lived—and even more grateful for every extra second He has given me. No, I didn’t see angels, a tunnel of light, Heaven, or hear voices. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened—whether still in the OR under anesthesia or later in the ICU as my body fought to survive. I suspect it was in the OR, as records note intubation difficulties upon my ICU arrival. The surgical report also mentions infiltrative metastases in my diaphragm, though pathology later showed only 1 cm of tissue removed. The surgeon chose not to resect further due to instability and pneumothorax risk. But at some point between here and the beyond… I lived something human words can barely contain. At first, I remember terrible distress—like silicone stuck in my throat, blocking my breath. In my mind, I tried to alert those around me, but no one heard. I was trapped between two worlds, fading… vanishing. During this time, I saw my husband alongside some doctors. But one detail stood out: he wasn’t wearing surgical scrubs or ICU attire. Instead, he wore an old shirt I hadn’t seen in years—one I thought had been donated. It was a long-sleeved gray knit shirt with red horizontal stripes, impossible to forget. I remember thinking, *"He doesn’t even own this anymore…"* The most astonishing part? When I fully woke two days later, he visited me in the ICU wearing that exact shirt. When I asked, he simply said, *"It was handy and comfortable for the hospital’s cold."* He confirmed he hadn’t worn it in years. Another striking detail: in the experience, he looked younger—jet-black hair, slimmer shoulders, like when we married. The doctors, meanwhile, seemed physically different—shorter, with smaller heads and bodies, almost disproportionate to reality. There was also thick glass separating me from the people I saw. I couldn’t make out machines or all ten staff members clearly. The space felt like a veterinary observation room—isolated, with a glass wall muffling my cries for help. No one heard me. They kept working, talking among themselves, unaware. Then… everything changed. Suddenly, I wasn’t there anymore. The distress vanished. I was suspended, held by a thin, shining silver thread of light. Above me was an immense, radiant sphere—glorious, powerful, yet warm, not threatening. There, I felt no fear, no pain, no discomfort. Only peace. In that moment, I understood with supernatural clarity: my life was being sustained. Not by machines. Not by doctors. By God. The Almighty. A phrase echoed within me: *"I am at peace. It will be okay. The Almighty is holding me."* *"Before the silver cord is severed…"* (Ecclesiastes 12:6). That verse has echoed in me ever since. Because that thread—that moment between Heaven and earth—didn’t break. God held me. It wasn’t my time. I was hanging from the silver wire in the fetal position. As if I was hugging my legs. Like babies do in the womb. I only remembered this yesterday. My memories are broken, it's strange. And when I fully woke two days later, there was my husband, wearing that shirt from the vision. Even through sedation’s haze, the sight brought back the experience with startling clarity. Today, I know: that silver cord was God’s comma. The world saw a period… He turned into continuation. My story wasn’t over. The Author still had much to write. Even artificial intelligence couldn’t fully capture what I lived. No code can translate such magnitude. But the memory remains vivid within me—until my last breath.