Joining the "Near Death Experience" Club

On Monday morning, our tour group decided to hike up a mountain to a Buddhist shrine at the top. It had rained the night before, which meant not only was it a pretty sweltering 90+ degrees, it was also 100% humidity. Jeju Island, which is where we were stationed at the time, is a jungle, considered the "Hawaii of Korea." As we hiked up the trail, various Buddhist temples and artifacts were scattered about and I scrambled around to snap pictures of them.

About half way up the mountain, I started to feel nauseous and leaned up against a siding, resting. I wanted to get to the top, because I felt it would be a waste to come all the way to Jeju Island and not even get all the way with the rest of the group to see what was up there. So after a while, when I felt a little better, I continued the grueling climb to the top. My parents counseled me to stop, but I was too proud to listen. I wanted to reach the top with my siblings! So I pressed on, covered in sweat - it looked like I had been sprayed with a hose. My arms were drenched and beads of sweat would fall from my face every three or five seconds.

I reached the shrine and collapsed on the stairs. Jean took some pictures for me and I climbed to the very top to take a sip from a mountain spring. According to Buddhist legend, if you drink one sip, you gain three years of your life. If you drink three sips, you gain nine years to your life. But if you are greedy and drink four sips, you lose ten years. I drank three sips, and began to walk down, thinking about how wonderful it would be to blog about how I made it to the top despite a topsy turvy stomach.

Once I reached the halfway point (of which there was a little shop), I sat down from exhaustion and nausea once more. Suddenly, a wave of sickness slammed into me and I got up and stumbled to the side to dispense my breakfast. But after some heavy breathing, I started to calm down again, but sank to my knees from pain. Then, I toppled to my side. The next thing I know, My entire body felt like pins and needles, except amplified ten times. The muscles all over my body were constricting in the most painful way; my nerves felt like they were on fire. My dad rushed over and asked what was wrong. I managed to wheeze, "Can't. Breathe."

Soon, my parents were hovering over me trying to think of a remedy. My brother ran down the mountain to fetch the tour guides and much needed help. The first thought that ran through my head was, "I'm going to die."

But the second thought that then ran through my head was, "I'm having a seizure." But realizing I was still cognizant, I ruled that out on the metaphorical whiteboard in Dr. House's office. I then decided it was most likely sun related, and remembering from my Boy Scout first aid days, managed to gasp, "Elevate. My legs." To which they did.

By now, the shop owner brought a towel to put on my head, and they started stripping me of my clothes, first my shirt and then loosened my jeans. They then started pouring water on me, trying to pour water into my mouth. People started massaging my legs and arms, to try and eleviate the stiffness. My hands hurt especially and were curled up into tight fists, which my dad could not pry open for a long time. They yelled at me to open my hands, and try as I could through the haze of pain, I couldn't. Thus, my third major thought ran through my head: "I'm paralyzed." And then I started to get scared.

But eventually, the pain subsided in my legs and chest, though my hands still hurt and were paralyzed a full minute later. The tour guide got up and decided I had indigestion, made me drink an entire can of ginger ale in one gulp and began to subject me to various Oriental medical procedures, which mainly were pounding me repeatedly on the back and neck and applying pressure points in my hands. By now, the ambulance came and the paramedics ran up and questioned me in Korean. They deemed necessary to put me on a stretcher and carry me down, on account of my hands, which were trembling as if I had palsy. I was somewhat embarassed, being carried down and aplogized repeatedly in rudimentary Korean to my parents, the tour guide and the paramedics laboring to bring me down hill.

I was then placed in an ambulance, which was incredibly surreal. The paramedic did some more scientific medical tests while we drove to the hospital on Jeju, alarms screaming and everything. I was rushed into the ER and had a blood sample taken and hooked up to an IV of glucose. At this point, I half expected a calloused, British actor with a bad leg and cane to badger me and perform painful medical tests to find out I had some rare disease. When that didn't happen, I half expected to relapse horribly and find out I have something like radiation poisoning or hepetitis. After an hour of anxious waiting, I decided I was okay and slept until I got my blood test back.

My dad and I were then shuttled back to the hotel. Our chauffer drove as if the Nazgul themselves were chasing him. He weaved in and out of traffic, dodging cars and going 80 miles an hour down small streets until we arrived at our destination. Our courier seemed like he knew what he was doing, so I relaxed, though I felt it would be a mean thing indeed to survive such an ordeal, only to die in a common vehicle accident.

In the end, I was okay, and it turned out to be some serious heat stroke or something of the matter. But I can now say honestly that I've had a near death experience, and I am sorry to say it didn't really change me much, though I have a much more grateful outlook on life. Maybe it wasn't near enough.