I’ve almost died a few times. Once was by the misfortune of being born with a hole in my heart and mitral valve prolapse. The Cardiologist told my parents I would die by the time I was 12-years-old without surgery. If I did have open-heart surgery, there was a 50% chance I’d survive. I had my 5th birthday in the Children’s Hospital in Indianapolis as part of my month-long pre-and-post heart surgery stint. That was successful, as I’m still around.
A year or two after the surgery, I was participating in a Bike-A-Thon in my rural hometown. My mom walked alongside me the whole ride, which was probably a couple of miles. We got out into the country and there was a field with cows in it. Wanting a rest and a closer look, I got off my bike and walked up to the fence. I didn’t realize it was an electric fence until my hands were attached to it. Vibrating waves coursed through my bones, muscles, veins, brain. I couldn’t pull away. My mom, horrified look on her face, quickly realized that I was buzzing and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me off the fence. I can’t remember for how long I stood there afterward, stunned, but I do know I eventually got back on my bike and finished the ride.
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