It wasn't scary. It was actually quite the opposite. Now I imagine my fading in and out is likely less that typical. I had an mi during a cardiac catheterization. I didn't really know what was going on but I understood what it meant. I was just fine, making small talk with one of the cath lab techs when suddenly i couldn't hear anything. I have had tinnitus for years so even being unable to hear the screeching whine of quite was strange.
I faded in an out, everytime I woke up it seemed like I was losing one of my senses, hearing or smell. The people in the lab were rushing around prepping me for defibrillation and they had tracers or halos. The lights would grow dim then way too bright. It sounded like echoes in a cave. I remember watching one of the cath techs put a mask over me and I could feel her panic physically. I didn't feel it with her. I was cool as a cucumber, but I could physically see her panic like a hazy mist. Then I couldn't hear anything, or see, smell, or taste the bile that had risen in my throat. There was nothing.
I think this is as close as an alive person gets to heaven. I was aware, I was me, but I wasn't either. It was kinda like the feeling you get right before you take a nap after an especially tiring day. There was a sense of overwhelming euphoric relief. Every time the defibrillator jolted me back to life I remember feeling angry. Being alive hurt. I came to one of the times I was being defibrillated and time was irrelevant. I could feel the searing pain emanating from the pads and slowly creep through me as if the whole world was in slow motion. Supposedly I screamed but I don't remember.
Time caught up with itself, the lights came back on, and I was pretty pissed off at first. The dark had been like a warm embrace and I was ripped away back into the cold again, naked and surrounded by strangers.
I questioned so many things after that. Where were the angels, the clouds? I was so desperate to find that comfort again amidst the pain of being half alive that I contemplated making my return by my own hand.
I came to the realization that perhaps death was like a long awaited embrace, a final nap after a long day. The only trouble was I didn't feel quite so tired yet.
I am not ready to die any time soon. I think maybe the darkness was God welcoming me home. I sure felt welcome, but I didn't get to stay. He still has more for me to do in this life and by damned I am ready to do it. In that way I think I will be good and tired when it is time for me to take that last good nap.