"Wake up," she said, slapping my cheek a little. "Who is here with you?" "No one is here with me right now," I said. I don't remember if I asked why they wanted to know, but the nurse said, "We are prepping the OR right now for surgery. Your abdomen is full of blood." "I'm tired and I want to go to sleep." The nurse looked at me intently. "You're not tired. You're dying." She was right. I died that night. Not once, but three times. However, those deaths are not the end of my story. Little did I know then, death can be just the beginning.