A medium interviews assistants

I was 19 years old when I died. That was a decade ago. 

I was making an unremarkable trip on an unremarkable winter day to go to some class that I was most likely going to surf the web throughout. That is to say, I was an average college student. Up until that day, I was completely anonymous. I was in that phase where people say they’re trying to figure themselves out. In all honesty, I was just a lazy drifter who got by on my above average smarts and the ability to cram in the nights before tests. 

I’d gotten off the bus and was walking the three blocks from the bus stop to the Social Sciences building. It was a trip that I’d made dozens of times in my two years at State. The last thing I remember was standing at the corner of Evins and Morningstar. 

It was a complete and total accident—or so I’m told. They tell me a car jumped the curb and plowed through a crowd of people. It wasn’t a terror attack or anything; just a guy who got a text message. Almost everything I know about the accident, I’ve read in a paper or heard from friends. 

“Dumbass Distracted Driver Kills Two and Injures Six in Campus Collision,” was the stupid headline in the Post. Those jackasses really know how to trivialize even the most serious of events.  

That day was anything but trivial. People died. It fucks me up. I still have nightmares. It took me months to be able to walk again. I still walk with a limp. At one point, people cared about us. There was a fundraiser for hospital bills, but after patting themselves on the back for their good deeds, those of us with permanent scarring, physically or otherwise, we’ve been banished to the back of peoples’ minds. Not that I want any of your sympathy, but it would be nice not to be the punchline of jokes a few years later.

Before I turn this into a pity party, let me go back a little bit. I know I started this off a little dramatically and you’ve probably got a lot of questions. I hope I can answer them all.

I’m not still dead. That’s the important part. I’m still with you guys for a bit longer. I was actually only clinically dead for 36 seconds before they brought me back. I wasn’t even one of the two dead people mentioned in the newspaper. No fifteen minutes of fame. 

I’d lost a lot of blood and was going through shock and my heart decided it wanted to take a break. I get it. It was a hard day. Luckily for me, the trauma unit over at County is top notch. I was back alive before I even knew I’d died. 

I wish I could tell you I learned something valuable from the experience, but I didn’t. It only made me realize that the world is chaotic and random and I could die at any moment. That didn’t reinvigorate me to live life to the fullest. I couldn’t. I was in physical therapy for months and I still walk with a noticeable limp. 

Most days I don’t even think about the day I died. What’s the use? I can’t go back in time and dodge the car. I can’t change what happened. I can’t bring those two strangers back. 

Believe me when I say I wish I could change everything about that day. I’d trade almost anything for that. I didn’t want to have to go through what I’ve been through. Do you think it’s nice having arthritis at 29? Aching every time it rains is not something I would have wished on my worst enemy. Having anxiety every time I stand at a crosswalk? Freaking out any time I’m in a car and someone gets a text message? I wish I didn’t have to live like this. I haven’t even driven since that day. After college, I had to move to New York so I wouldn’t have to worry about getting myself around—the subway does it for me. I don’t even want to think about that day if I don’t have to. It hurts too much. 

But every now and again something forces me to think about the day I died. Mostly the visitors. Not anyone on this plane of existence. You’ve already heard me bitching about how I’m a punchline. No, since that day a decade ago, I’ve had new people. Wait—are they people? I guess they were at one point. But I’ve had new people in my life. 

I was 19 years old when I was visited by my first apparition. That was a decade ago.