Mr. Webster, we’re going to give you a dose of adenosine to stop your heart. It’s going to feel like you’re being buried alive. That’s normal.
Are you fucking kidding me?
My heart is pounding. It feels like it’s going to burst through my rib cage and land on the floor between me and the nurse.
I clutch my chest like holding it will make it hurt less. Like it will keep my heart from beating so hard. Deep, sharp pains. The room is spinning. I think I’m going to throw up. Is this a heart attack?
No, this can’t be a heart attack. I’m a cancer kid, not a heart attack victim.
The nurse is ripping my shirt off. Another is coming towards me with a needle. I guess it wasn’t the 2 hours of sleep last night or the nachos I had for lunch making me feel like shit.
Poor Mom must be terrified. Again.
The needle’s in. I watch the monitor to see myself flatline. Watch myself die.
Try to relax. What you’re feeling is normal.
Normal. What does that even mean?
My eyes are bulging out of their sockets.
I can’t fucking breathe!
I try to scream. I try to scream my last words. Sandra, Kelsey, Sam and Kevin. I love you. Mom, Dad I’m sorry for putting you through this. For dying in the wrong order.
These are the last things to go through my mind as I die. What is this I’m feeling? Bigger than dread. Bigger than fear. Doom.
He rubs the paddles like on TV.
Black. I’m under water. I pass out. I’m alive, but I’m dead.