People Are Sharing Stories of How They Almost Died

Death by firing squad. It was the 70s. I was on a package tour of Singapore and Thailand. We were leaving Bangkok heading home on a direct flight to Sydney. One of our tour group was directly in front of me in line going thru the metal detector that proceeded the path to the plane.

Gate alarms went off. The guy was immediately surrounded with soldiers/police with rifles pointed directly at him. There was heaps of shouting and pushing and shoving. I was pushed thru the gate along with my mum.

Flying home the captain made an announcement advising that our flight had been rerouted thru Singapore. We all started to worry why the flight path had been changed. When we landed the police were there waiting for us. There were 7 of us on the tour. 4 of us had made it to the plane, all thinking what the hell just happened. Once off the plane the flight continued home without us.

We were escorted to a detention facility at the airport, seperated and thoroughly searched. I was 10 years old. My mother was eventually allowed back to unofficially supervise my interrogation and search. We had tampons in mums baggage and one officer thought he had struck gold and proceeded to minutely pull them apart while yelling at us and shoving the so called evidence in our faces.

A female officer walked in on this and drew the other aside to explain what it was he was handling. He flushed a deep shade of red and ran from the room. It was at this point that we were finally given an explanation as to what was going on.

It's obvious now but at the time we were scared and very confused. The guy who was arrested in Bangkok was seen as an associate of his fellow tour company. In fact, non if us knew who he was and we had no interaction with him. He entered the countries as part of our tour and that's the last we saw of him until leaving for the next destination. Thailand and Singapore however did not see this reality. They were convinced we were all carrying drugs.

Mum pointed out that while travelling to Bangkok Airport he had access to everyone's bags and could have stashed drugs on any one of those suitcases. (We were on a mini bus and our luggage had been piled into the aisle). If drugs were found there would have been no way to prove our innocence.

Under Singapore law it was a death sentence. After a truly horrifying ordeal where we were detained, threats were constantly being made and our futures loomed in such uncertainty, we were able to finally, safely return home. A few years later we were watching a 60 minutes episode on Australian prisoners found guilty of drug trafficking.

It started with the story of Barlow and Chambers, the first 2 Aussies to be given the death sentence. The program then cut to Bangkok and there amongst the prisoners was our fellow traveller. The man who was very nearly responsible for a mother, her 10 year old daughter and 2 female companions in their early 20's facing the firing squad. I have never been so terrified in all my life.

Username: byronbaybe

Severe traumatic brain injury. I didn't see the light but had a lengthy dream that I was some white boy who was playing basketball in the NBA...but was allergic to water lol...

What happened:
Head first impact (I think) into concrete at around 22-23mph. My skull fractured in three locations and all of my skull's cerebral spinal fluid leaked out of my ears. Both of my lungs also collapsed. These two things caused severe ischemia in my brain's left hemisphere and thus the right side of my skull was temporarily removed to allow the brain to swell outwards rather than the ischemia affecting my brain's right hemisphere as well.

I was unconscious for around 2.5 months and became 95% deaf. I had to re-learn a vast majority of my English vocabulary and had to search for different ENTs for around a year (after my hospital release) to actually have my hearing issue properly addressed. I went to some top-rated hospitals and ENT clinics and got absolutely nowhere at any of those places.

I finally found a doctor who knew how to read an MRI scan and was very familiar with the inner ear, procedures, surgery, etc. That resulted in a stapedectomy done through the ear canal that restored 85% of my hearing in my right ear.

My left ear still has sensorineural hearing loss that may recover gradually over the course of the next 50 years.... In other words, my left ear will probably stay as deaf as it currently is - but one working ear is better than none!

Aside from hearing, I was mistreated at the hospital whilst coming out of my unconscious state and thus lost around 95lbs. I was 185lbs and 8% body fat when the accident occurred (I was a gym freak). But after being semi-conscious for a few weeks and then weighed at the hospital, I was only 95lbs... The hospital illegally used college students to train medical practices on me (injections, blood pulling, scans, etc) and had tied my arms and legs to the hospital bed so that I couldn't move.

The students would occasionally aggressively push my head around whilst it was always in pain. I was very lactose intolerant - as specified in the medical system - but was still fed a compound that was 53% lactose via a tube that was inserted directly into my stomach through my abdomen (to the left of my bellybutton).

I also was not allowed to use the restroom and being tied down made matters worse when they continuously pumped lactose into my stomach. Furthermore, the massive amount of weight loss paired with students putting unnecessary weighted braces on my body caused severe muscle atrophy.

I couldn't really move my legs and couldn't easily adjust my shoulder position. I had to go through some mobility restoration sessions in order to regain the ability to move. And yeah.... Here I am three years later often wishing that I actually saw the light on that day... =(

Username: NippleSauce

My dad is a bit of a hoarder, and often brings home useless junk he finds lying around. One day, my mom was going through his shit when he was out to throw some of it out and found a cardboard box that looked like it was a package addressed to someone (there was To: and From: names on it). So, not knowing what it was, she opened it and thought the contents looked suspicious.

She then comes to me and hands me the box and asks me if I think this package looks suspicious. I open the box, and inside there's a 9V battery with 2 wire leads that lead to a bag of match heads. In the box, there's also 2 500ml water bottles with labels ripped off and an ambiguous clear fluid in it. I'm no scientist but I thought immediately Holy shit this is an improvised explosive device.

I immediately closed the box and put it outside of the house. We immediately called the police and it ended up with the bomb squad coming to our house and shutting down access to our whole block. There was literally like 30 special teams members there and they set up a yellow tent in the street to investigate the package and possibly detonate it if needed.

About 2hrs go buy and the bomb squad officer comes to our door. He tells us the device was a REAL FUCKING INCENDIARY DEVICE. If you don't know what that is, it's basically designed to ignite the person who opens the package on fire. The fluid in the bottles was paint thinner that was fuel. He said the only reason it didn't ignite was that the battery had died.

More interestingly, the intended recipient of the package was previously the attempted target of a similar assassination attempt, which was part of an ongoing criminal investigation. So given that, me and my dad were taken for questioning at the police station for about an hour each.

What ended up happening was that my dad found this package on a park bench on one of his walks. He picked it up thinking he would be a good Samaritan, intending to deliver it himself. He ended up forgetting about it and it sat in his junk for 4 or 5 years. His hoarding simultaneously put all of our lives in danger and also saved it (since he kept it so long that the battery died).

Also, I'm well aware both my parents tampered with mail and that is considered a federal crime. Let's just say they're not the most critical thinkers often. Lots of other details omitted to keep the story reasonable length.

Username: thechemistofoz

In middle school, I had an accident on my BMX bike. This one was exceptionally bad because the handgrips had been ripped off from months of abuse. So, when I landed the front wheel hit a hole and immediately stopped, the handlebar “pipe” then stabbed into the left side of my abdominal cavity. Immediately I hit the ground and blacked out.

When I came to, I had to pull the handlebar out of my stomach and told my parents what happened and because the wound had kind of closed back up on itself, there was not a lot of blood. They took me to an urgent care facility where I told the doctor and nurse I had been stabbed.

The nurse looked at me and said “Oh honey, you weren’t stabbed. You’re just in shock.” The doctor did not clean out the wound or bother to look at it. Gave me about 10 stitches and just closed it up. About a week later I was rushed to the ER with gangrene.

The left side of my body, above my hip was swollen and turning bright red. I was immediately put on a morphine drip for pain and given IV antibiotics and the doctors started writing on me with a sharpie to watch the progression of the infection by the hour.

I was able to tell one of the doctors what had actually happened and he put it all together as to what my actual injuries were. I was immediately taken for a colonoscopy to check to see if my intestines had been pierced, along with every sort of X-ray, scan, ultrasound. You name it.

The doctors then rushed me to surgery and they ended up removing a significant portion of my left side above my hip where the tissue had been destroyed from the infection. They found the round piece of my shirt, from where the handlebar stabbed into me.

They also found a plug of dirt, rocks, and grass from dropping the bike on the ground in the previous weeks; that was then deposited into my abdomen during the accident. The wound was packed with gauze for almost a year as it was decided the best course of action was to let this massive wound heal from the inside out.

I was in the hospital for almost three weeks and was unable to walk the entire time. Later, I was told that the total bills for my entire ordeal approached about $700k. Also, one of the doctors told me that I had, at most, a day or so before I would have passed away from infection.

Most likely due to infection reaching my intestines and spine/brain; as it was tracking closer to my spine by the minute. As a parent, looking back on it now; I can only imagine what my family went through.

As a kid back then, I just kept thinking about how awesome it was that they put a Nintendo 64 in my room and I didn’t have to go to school. Not understanding how dire my situation actually was.

Username: jtpias

Last year I was working on a jewelcrafting workshop. My boss had a bunch of bronze melting on a crucible and for some reason left it alone. The machine had some issues, couldn't regulate the temperature right, and would often exceed the limitations set, so it would overheat.

Well, it was one of these times. I smelled smoke from the next room and saw flickering lights through a glass door, so I run inside. The room was full of smoke, and the bronze was boiling, spitting chunks all over the place.

Some boxes were on fire, and the thing is, there were chemical powders on these boxes, some of which were quite flammable. But the real danger was that near those boxes was a 1.80 meter tall oxygen tank. Thankfully, I was able to put all this out with a fire extinguisher.

The dude was furious, yelling that it was my fault, so I left then and there. It wasn't the first time that he would fuck up and blame it on someone else, or he was irresponsible, in a workplace where you have to pay attention all the time. And never really followed the safety regulations, as it is obvious. Quite an a-hole.

In my early teens, I went cliff diving with my father. We'd done it in that particular spot lots of times, since I was a kid. One day though, while the waters seemed calm and the skies didn't show a sign of bad weather (at least none that we recognised), there was a sudden, and pretty strong, gale.

The waves would smack us on the rocky cliffside again and again, we both thought we would die. Luckily though, I managed to get a grip on a rock, pulled myself up and then helped my father climb up as well.

We waited there for the wind to calm down, bleeding from a dozen wounds. He also got some ribs cracked, while I luckily wasn't hurt internally, just some flesh wounds that left some scars that tells an interesting tale around campfires lol.

I was mugged while I was on a date in a playground. My then gf wasn't really aware of the danger, cause she thought that, since it's daytime, it's safe, so she was being quite loud. Those two dudes almost broke my jaw and then made me sit on a swing.

One went behind me and sticked a knife on my ribs, telling me that "if I don't shut her up, he'd shut both of us up" and, for a warning, sliced my shirt and cut me. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to make me feel that my days were over.

Eventually a couple heard the noise and came over, so these two were gone before anybody could do anything. Needless to say, we weren't together for long after that. Had a heart attack a month after my 20th birthday. Stress can be a bitch. No one was very confident I would survive, not even doctors.

Cracked my skull real bad on a rock when I was a kid while I was playing with my father. Don't really know if my luck loves or hates me, to be honest.

Username: Acceptable_Security9

In a war-torn country, my family embarked on a perilous journey by foot towards Europe. In the darkness of Bulgaria, we encountered a terrifying ordeal that still haunts us to this day.

It was a desperate escape from the horrors of our homeland. My mom, my sister, my little brother, and I, ages 10, 11, and 7 respectively, clung together, seeking safety in each other's presence. Our hearts pounded with fear as we walked in the pitch-black night, guided only by the hope of finding a better life beyond the borders.

Along our treacherous path, we stumbled upon a large train track with over 20 tracks, obscured in darkness. Panic filled our hearts as we noticed a high-speed train approaching. The blackness made it impossible to determine which track the train would pass on, and we were unable to escape to safety in time.

With my mom's strength and prayers holding us together, we braced for the worst. The train's blinding light illuminated our fear-stricken faces as it rushed by, just inches from us. In those terrifying moments, we thought our lives were about to end, but somehow, we survived.

Years later, the trauma of that night still haunts me. My nights are filled with a recurring nightmare, where the darkness returns, and the sound of a high-volume train siren pierces the silence. The dream climaxes with a deafening crash, as if the train collides with an invisible wall, and I struggle to escape its path. I've woken up countless times with injuries, having unknowingly tried to avoid the inevitable in my sleep.

To cope with this haunting memory, I've rearranged my life, placing my bed in the middle of the room to feel safer. Slowly, the nightmares are abating, but the scars of our migration journey remain etched deeply in our minds.

Not only did we face the terror of the train track, but the entire migration process itself took a toll on our mental well-being. Many migrants, like us, were vulnerable to exploitation by criminal organizations, paying exorbitant fees to cross borders. Tragedies unfolded when people couldn't meet the demands or were simply disliked by the merciless mafia.

One heartbreaking memory that remains etched in our minds is witnessing a father being buried alive for failing to pay the mafia. His anguished family cried out in desperation as they were forced to watch the horrific scene unfold.

My sister, my brother, and I carry the mental scars of those experiences with us every day. The weight of these memories takes a toll on our emotional health, but we persevere, holding onto hope for a brighter future.

Our journey was one of darkness, but we are determined to heal and rebuild our lives in a place where safety and peace can replace the fear and uncertainty we once knew. Our hope is that sharing our story will shed light on the plight of migrants, raising awareness about the need for empathy, compassion, and understanding.

Username: iamnekkid

Flesh eating bacteria (necrotizing fasciitis) that I acquired during the c-section of my twins. I went into septic shock and had 5 surgeries to clean it and remove tissue and several months of recovery, with a wound vac.

My symptoms were ignored in the hospital as “having a twin delivery” and when I was discharged I could barely handle the drive home for 15 min from so much pain. I knew something wasn’t right since it was way different from my previous c-section.

I wanted to believe that it was just due to having a lot of scar tissue. That night I spiked a high fever with chills like an awful flu. But since Tylenol was bringing down my temp, the on call doc told me to see how I felt the next day.

Still felt like shit the next day. Called my OB office trying to be seen, but shrugged off as not being a priority since a fever and some pain is “normal.” I had a special c-section wound vac and when it started filling with the most disgusting brown/red fluid that smelled like decomposition, we gave up on the office and went to the ER.

After hours of it being deemed that I had an infection, and the OBs FINALLY asking for input from the trauma team, my case was taken over by the head of surgery. I was immediately taken to surgery. After DAYS of saying something was wrong and being gaslit that I was fine, and FINALLY getting a serious look at it, I went into septic shock in my first surgery.

My husband was sent home despite the severity of it because of “visiting hours” when really it was incorrect information. My twins were only 33 weeks and in the NICU and my 2yo at home with my mom and husband. I went into surgery alone being told I’d wake in the same room.

I woke in the ICU. One two IVs of broad spectrum antibiotics and told that they knew it wasn’t MRSA, but that I was gravely ill. Septic shock has about a 40% mortality rate. No one even told me yet about going into septic shock. All I knew is I wanted to get to my twins, and was being told I might be there for MONTHS.

Less than 24 hours later I needed surgery again when my abdomen became red and painful to touch. This time we were warned that severe issues could result - from severe bowel and tissue removal to death. Instead I was coming out of the woods and it was bowel being pinched by my perforated fascia that was mostly mush (how the doctor described my fascia).

I didn’t even know I was so close to death until later. I focused only of not being in the hospital and getting to the NICU. What typically would be weeks to months in the hospital was two weeks for me. I could handle dressing changes and pushed myself to pass everything I had to in order to get better and out of there.

My sheer will and determination couldn’t defeat the need for a serious wound vac for 4 months along with 3 months of taking 3 GRAMS of amoxicillin a day, among other things. Plus having a visiting nurse, infectious disease doctor, and wound clinic visits. I lost 65 pounds in less than 3 weeks from being admitted. It was over a year before I physically felt normal.

My twins are now nearing 2.5 and my oldest is 4. Most days it’s like it never happened. Until I look at my mangled lower abdomen that I call my front butt from the skin that was removed. Or when I stretch just so and the muscles where there was removal happen to severely cramp that I can barely breathe.

My change of survival was basically 50/50 all because it was “too rare” to have such a thing happen. For such a massive hospital system, I was one of their ~150 cases/yr that become severely ill/near death/die due to something in the hospital.

I couldn’t sue because of stupid state laws around malpractice that make it difficult. I suffer still from occasional moments of PTSD from things like the smell of the antiseptic used in doctor offices. I can no longer step foot in my ob/gyn’s office because I fill with rage.

Yet. I’ve never been so calm in my life. I’m more direct and outspoken than ever before. Things generally bother me less. It’s brought perspective I never knew I could have. I don’t see it as a burden, but as my opportunity to live what it means to be a self advocate in all ways.

But I’ll definitely never forget being told that I was gravely ill and risked worst infection killing me in all the conversations. And before the 2nd surgery of genuinely not knowing if I’d wake up or ever see my husband or sons again.

Username: bleucrayons

I was a fire fighter for 16 years and had a few close calls. Below is one of the ones that always comes to mind first. We got called out to this gas station one evening at the beginning of summer. This was a big gas station with a restaurant and shop and there was a couple of rooms for rent on the second floor, this thing was not your typical little corner shell station.

So my best friend and I have been in and out of this building for the last hour fighting a pretty decent blaze. I want to say we were both on our 3rd hot swapped 30 minute air bottle. We were making good progress fighting the flames back and we were pretty deep into the building when we hear the air horn on the truck blare 3 long blows (this is the emergency evacuate signal) and our fire chief come over the radio kind of frantically calling for an immediate evac.

This usually happens when the structural integrity of the building is starting to fail and the building is about to collapse. Since the fire did not seem that bad, my friend and I were very confused but trusted there was something happening that we did not know about so we started to make our way back towards the door.

Unbeknownst to us, about 2 minutes earlier the business owner showed up on scene and asked if there was any chance we could save his fireworks. See this was about 3 weeks before the 4th of July and he had just gotten in a 18 wheeler full of fireworks that were currently filling the back store room.

Now our fire chief, not worrying about saving the fireworks, realized that there were several thousand pounds of gunpowder and explosives IN A BURNING BUILDING that happened to be full of his guys including your humble narrator.

Two minutes after that, my friend and I turn a corner about the same time the fire made it to the back store room. Now for those of you, i am going to guess all of you, who have never been inside the middle of a fireworks display, it is even more impressive from 10 feet away then it is from the few hundred feet below that you usually get to see one happening.

It was absolutely one of the most intense things I have ever seen. There were bright vibrant colors and deafening pops all around us. I had no idea what the hell was happening, but I knew it was not good. We grabbed at each other and tried to pull each other to safety.

The floor in the restaurants kitchen was slick from the thin layer of grease that had built up on the floor over the years being heated by the fire and then covered with water from the hoses. It was like a nightmare slip and slide getting out of there.

Fortunately the fire had only hit a small batch of the fireworks when we were in the building or I would probably not be here to tell you this story. We pulled every one out of the building, set up deck guns and aerial mounted deluge guns and performed, what we call in the business, a surround and drown, and watched the rest of the fireworks.

Either that or the time I was fighting a woods fire and the fire crowned, spread overhead in the trees and dropped back behind us trapping us in a ring of fire cutting us off from supplies, equipment, and help. Both were absolutely terrifying, but the fireworks story is more impressive to tell.

Username: venlaren

I got tired of life... decided to drink a gallon of Apple Pie moonshine, and a 1.75 of devils cut whiskey. I started the night off on a Friday after I got paid went to the bar where a lot of my friends were, I threw down my paycheck amount and said when it get to this amount cut it off that’s all I got.. it wasn’t unusual for me to do that so the bar tender said alright, a group of women and men came and praised me and thanked me for the gesture and asked if I wanted anything.

I told them no it’s alright.. I just enjoy seeing everyone have a good time, so later that night I went and got a beer at 1:00 am or some where near that and the tender didn’t charge me for it since I had $30.00 left of what I wrote down for my limit.

I told her thank you in a drunken fashion and got invited to an after party, they said bring what you want so I brought some apple pie I brewed up a few months ago and a bottle out of my liquor cabinet.. shit was going great, no one really knew me except for word of mouth and a coworker, apparently a chick that was there had a crush on me and made her move so we went to her truck and I wasn’t into it and started talking, mid sentence I passed out in her pickup and she then joined the party.

Kind of embarrassing I walked back to the Bon fire and asked why she left and she said I just passed out and said it looked like I needed it, during that time she had seen me go through an entire week working two jobs and going to college, at the time the only time I slept was in the parking lot of my school and at one point my instructor said I’m not looking okay and asked if I can call in sick to one of my jobs, my skin was dark red with a tinge of blue kind of giving a purple swollen look.

Back to the good stuff after I got a talking to about sleeping I decided to go on a tangent about you guys wouldn’t have the drinks you have now if it weren’t for me so I chugged the rest of the apple pie and slammed the devils cut, as I hear the group talk about why I’m so giving and gloomy I start walking away,

I took a few good stride and started going black so I thought to myself, well I better go home.. so I take a few more strides and that’s when I buckled like a wooden sculpture when you release the string, I remember that night watching the stars in the most numbing uncomfortable position.

The stars started dying out and the next thing you know I was getting picked up and blacked out again to having the weirdest dream of my face getting slapped, a weird sensation going down my nose, and waking up in my buddy’s apartment not mowing how I got there, and what day it was, missing 18 phone calls, and my text messages looking like an email page with a 99+ I found out real quick I was gone for a few days in my head.

The only thing I seen was black, the calmest feeling in my life, the stars were so close that night.. Well any ways the after effects weren’t all the great, both my eye blew out there blood vessels, I forgot a lot of things and felt like I knew the exact answer, I was given tinted safety glasses and felt week for the next four weeks.

I do still drink, but I have lost the fear felt when near death.. of coarse I don’t wanna die, but do I care, not really. I just feel it’s best not being a statistic.

Username: Greedy_Excuse6767

This happened back in 2014, in Mexico. My granpa use to be a carpenter, used to because after what happened he finally decided to fully retire, on what became his last job he asked my uncle to go with him, but since he was busy i offered to go insted, this wasn't rare since I did sometimes went with him. My two younger cousins were home that day, and wanted to go so we would buy them ice cream on the way back home.

So we went to do the estimate, the client (the kidnappers) asked us to go to their place so we could get the correct measurements and begin the job. Once in their place, it was quite remote but still inside the city, I think some 15 minutes away from actual farmland, we went inside and began taking notes of the stuff we were supposed to do.

There were 4 men inside the small house, one of them asked another to close the door, and another to turn on the AC. Then onche the door was closed one of the men got behind me and pressed a knife to my side. There was no chance we would fight back, not with my 2 cousins around, we wouldn't risk them getting hurt.

We were taken to another room, got our phones taken, and our hands and feet tied with ziplocks, and eyes covered with duck tape. After that, it happens as I saw on movies and such, the kidnappers would call my family, make us answer some questions for them to know we were still alive, and asked for money.

On my family's side, I was later told, they managed to contact with "unidad anti secuestros" a special police unit dedicated to cases of kidnapping without the kidnappers knowledge. The police told them to play along and agree to the conditions of the ransom so my family paid some 150k (around 12k american dlls back then).

The police used the handoff as a trap to capture whomever picked up the cash, and then police brutality actually helped safe my, and my families life. I was shown the pictures at a later date, but man the kidnapper got the heck beat out of him, couldn't even recognize his face.

Before his capture, of the man that picked up the cash, he released my youngest cousin, who told his mother that he knew the way back. So with my cousin telling them were to go, and that one captured kidnapper forced into talking, the police broke down the door of the house we were held in, and proceeded to arrest the other 3 accomplices.

During the time I was held hostage, the 3 men that kept watch over us got progressively more aggressive. By the end they would kick my grandfather and forced me to stay awake (i believe they kept me awake for a couple of days but to this day I'm unsure of it). The only thing I can be glad for, is that their aggression was aimed at me and my grandfather, they never touched either of my cousins.

Not an experience I would wish on anyone, hunger and thirst and paranoia, not even to mention the couple of years of ptsd that I had to overcome. There was also that weid time, by the end of the 13th day, that I was just going in and out of consciousness, the memory is kind of hazy, but I do believe i was beginning to hallucinate.

Another horrible thing about the whole event was that since I couldn't see, and was kept in a closed room with no windows or light, I perceived time so different, that I believed I was held for closer to a month and not the 13 days that it was.

All 4 men were arrested, and sentenced to 19 years in prison for kidnapping and extortion. I feel kind of bad for 1 of them, he was a 19 years old child and the son of the oldest of the group (who was 40), he probably never had a chance but to fall to this life.

So that's the story. We are doing fine now, my two cousins bounced back almost immediately (kids are really resilient huh?), My granpa decided to close his shop and I, and my mother, moved back in with him and granma so they could rent my house and have an income (I take care of most of the expenses, the rent money is for his personal use). I on tye other hand, had to deal with ptsd and paranoia for a while but managed to get back on my feet and am in a good place now.

Username: isusahi

I've had several close encounters with potential death but four years ago when I was in Indonesia I almost died twice during the same hour. First incident was when snorkeling in more shallow waters. I swam right above something which intrigued me and when I took a closer look I soon realized that that thing was a snake.

I'm very interested in animals so I know sea snake venom is usually more potent therefore more deadly than the venom of land snakes. I was about 0,5-1 meter above the snake and for some reason I thought I had already accidentally hit it and that was why it was so close to me so I panicked and started swimming away as fast as I could back to the jetty.

Once I got up I told the boat operator that I had encountered a snake in the water and he asked me if I had been bitten. With adrenaline pumping I examine my entire body and notice I hurt myself on my wrist, it somewhat resembled bite marks but I had just scratched myself on this old wooden jetty when I tried to climb up the ladder.

Without realizing that though I showed him my scratch marks and asked "What do I do?" and he says to me "We wait 20 minutes, either you are still alive or you are dead." I was on this trip with my uncle and he was out snorkeling too so I gazed out towards the water to see if I could spot him but I couldn't see him anywhere.

The only thought going through my mind was "I am gonna die on this old wooden bridge, my uncle is going to find my corpse and I'm never seeing my family again" (this was after having been away for 2,5 weeks already). 10 minutes pass, I'm still alive, pulse is high from the snake encounter. My uncle comes back after a while and we take the boat to a small island.

The island has one hill that probably used to be a volcano because it looked just like one. It's been 30 minutes since the snake encounter now so I'm getting more relaxed but I also googled the sea snake, found out it was a Belcher's sea snake and that it is one of the most venomous snakes in the world but also one of the more passive ones so thankfully it probably never bit me.

While we were on this small island there was a storm brewing in the north while it was literally paradise in the south so I wanted to film the contrast from on top of the hill. Since we anchored the boat a couple meters away from the beach I didn't put on my shoes because I didn't want them to get wet.

Before walking up the hill I ask my uncle if he thinks there are snakes on the hill and he replies "No, it's probably too hot for them to out right now" (foreshadowing what was about to happen). I make my way up the hill and up there there's only sand and a couple trees, no real shadow.

I start filming but I soon feel the heat from the sand being far too much for my feet to handle so I stop filming. I look at my feet and know I've likely burnt them. The weather was like 45 degrees celsius so the sand was probably twice that temperature. Felt like walking on fire or something.

With my feet hurting I now wanted to cool them down so I started to make my way down the hill. I forgot to mention, the hill is very steep hence why I assume it was an old volcano. In an attempt to save time I decided to jog/run down to a dead tree about 5 meters diagonally down from the top which would save me some time = save me from the pain.

The dead tree sat right at the edge of a cliff-like part of the hill. It all went so fast and I slam into the tree, hugging it as tight as I could and I looked down at the rocks and ocean below. The drop would've been about 8-10 meters and I came running down in pretty uneven ground thinking "If I miss the tree or the tree simply tips over I will fall to my death".

Right below the edge there was a huge rock as big as a car I thought to myself "Ok, in two different universes I've died on this day, one version of me died to snake venom and the other smashed his skull on that big ass rock down there". With a sigh of relief I continued down the hill and made it to the water to cool my feet.

My uncle was sitting on the beach when I got there and I said to him "No more adventures today, I've almost died twice in the last hour and I don't think I have enough luck stored for a third time".

Username: LetThemSeeYou

I was camping with my family somewhere in Idaho back in high school. We were right by a river that was usually a much calmer creek but the area had a lot of snow the previous winter so the water was much deeper than usual and extremely cold.

There were a couple guys nearby that I had been talking with. They had plans to go fishing later that evening and offered to let me tag along and join since they knew the area. My mom was cool with it so I grabbed my stuff and followed.

We were going along the path of the river but came up to a barbed wire fence. One guy jumped over but the other guy and myself said fuck that and went to the maybe a little over a foot's width area between the barbed wire and the river. I saw him slip a little bit on some mud, so naturally I stepped over that area. It turned out to be a terrible decision because I slipped far more than he did.

My first instinct was to grab the closest thing to me, which turned out to be the barbed wire. Unfortunately I grabbed the wrong part and hit a barb with the palm of my hand. I was losing traction with my feet so I was falling backwards into the river that had a fairly fast current in that area.

I refused to let go because the fishing pole in the same hand belonged to my grandpa that had passed years before and that was one I used with him every summer, so losing it was not an option. I held on and told one of the guys to take it first, which they obviously thought was insane. Ultimately they were able to grab it because I couldn't hold on any longer and immediately fell backwards into the river.

My legs were immediately swept out from under me and there was nothing I could do. Both of the people with me were frantically trying to reach me any way they could but I was out of reach. Luckily down a little ways was a tree that had been washed out from the water with it's roots sticking out some.

I was going mostly feet first but the first thing to hit was my face and the current was pulling me under so I grabbed at everything I could to buy myself time. Eventually they reached me and were able to fight the current and get me out.

We had to hike through the woods to find the trail again to get back to camp. Finally I saw the opening to the camp area and my mom saw us. I didn't even realize until she freaked out but I had blood pouring from my arm from the bad cut on my hand and I had some pretty big cuts on my arm as well.

I also remember the only thing I could feel was my nuts hurting from the cold. I was in complete shock, but I do remember my mom commenting how white I looked coming out of the dark. We didn't have any first aid kit but there was another family nearby that did and they rushed over to help bandage me up.

My mom's car was shit and wouldn't start for some reason so we had to wait for the next day for some friends to arrive. When they did, we immediately went to a hospital a good distance away to get checked out.

It had been too long so the skin around the cut on my hand was dead enough it couldn't be sewn back together. They gave me a tetanus shot and began cleaning up the dead skin and bandaging things. Throughout my childhood I had issues where shortly after getting a shot, something inside went crazy and I would get fuzzy tunnel vision and wake up on the floor.

This time was no different. I was in pain from everything but was watching them clean up my cuts when it happened. I passed out, fell backwards into some exam room tray thing, went to the side and hit the exam table/bed, then bounced off that and hit the back of my head on the tile floor.

I woke up with a bunch of doctors and nurses trying to wake me up, calling my name, etc. I had no idea what happened or why I was on the floor. Eventually they got me up to the exam table/bed, got me some snacks and a drink and made me lay there for a little while until they determined I was fine to leave.

Username: matts8409

Carbon monoxide poisoning sleeping on a leaky inflatable mattress next to the kerosene heater in the living room of an empty house in the snowy Appalachians. It was about 15 years ago. I had just finished college.

Roommates moved out and I was in limbo waiting a few weeks on some paperwork to come back before I could move as well. Lovely country cabin in the woods during summer and fall but a nightmare all winter.

The house was a 30 minute drive out of town into the mountains where there was no cell signal and when it snowed we would be trapped for days until it melted or the plows would make out that far. No insulation in this house so bitter cold nights.

The only heater in the house was in the living room and it hardly worked all year so we kept it cranked up to max and even then it barely heated the room. Bedrooms were even colder so I started sleeping in the living room right next to the heater to get what little warmth it gave off.

Anyway, went through my normal depressed limbo routine of drinking beer all night and them pumping up the air mattress and trying to pass out before it leaked and left me on the hardwood floor. Woke up (thank God) a couple hours later totally disoriented, walked to the bathroom, pissed and turned toward the door to go back to bed and felt strange...

My head and chest were all wet for some reason and i turned back to the bathroom to see a huge mess. Without realizing it I had fainted and fellen head first into the toilet, ripped the shower curtain down, hit my head on the tank of the toilet...pissed everywhere. Then got up ready to leave the bathroom like nothing happened.

I was so confused and I was hallucinating and that's when I noticed this loud mechanical roar coming from the living room. The heater sounded like a lawn mower. I had never seen it that loud or powerful in all the months I lived there.

I guess it had a block in th fuel line and the fuel was barely getting to it no matter what setting we had it on but that night it unblocked itself and I had been breathing heavy fumes leaking out of the exhaust pipe that was connected to the wall and an outside exhaust valve. Thank God for that leaky air mattress and my tiny blatter. A few more minutes and I'm sure I would not have woken up.

And I don't know if it was the hallucinations or what but the house was super creepy and menacing and the heater wouldn't react when I tried to turn it off. Had to unplug it from the socket but even then I didn't trust it. I opened all the windows in the house.

It was snowing and frigid outside but I bundled up and slept in a closet in a back bedroom not sure if I would even wake up. Scariest thing that ever happened to me. I would have rotted in my sleeping bag for weeks before the landlord came to check the property.

And anyway, in typical irresponsible college kid fashion I didn't even mention it to the owner when I dropped off my keys and picked up my deposit check when the lease ran out. I hope nothing ever happened to anyone else that lived there.

Username: rustyshackle5o6

I had a 2nd cycle in a single month at 15. Huge blood clots, bigger than an adults palm, multiple times an hour, bleeding non stop, not eating, sleeping constantly, having to get up constantly to not bleed everywhere.

By day 7, I'm WHITE white, more than my usual pale, and I'm taking a shower. Well, the water starts running in power waves as we didn't have the greatest water heater or pump and as it rushes over my head and back a certain way, I get dizzy and have to hold onto the shower head to help lower myself to the edge of the tub. I'm standing in a weird half standing, half sitting on the tub, hunched over stance and I can't move or speak for a few minutes.

Finally, I can manage a quiet "Mom" and about 2 minutes later my mom comes in and sees blood all over my legs, and I'm half standing under freezing water at this point. She wraps my in a robe and helps me into some leggings and takes me to the hospital.

This is such a shit hospital, everyone in my town calls it the Bandaid Hospital because you can't trust them to put on a bandaid without hurting you in some fucked way. So I'm getting an IV put in and this RN almost blows my veins out completely.

Finally, I get transported to a much better hospital 50 miles away (the Dr that saw me said the RN should have his practice license revoked for my vein, not important moving on) and they immediately put me on a blood transfusion.

For the next 4 days, I'm in and out of consciousness, watching as countless physicians poke and prod me and take blood and urine and stool and look up my chute more times than I've ever had done since. I had to have 5 units of blood.

I spent Christmas Eve and Day in the hospital with a tube of blood going up my arm. They did try to sneak in on CE night to sneak me some random gifts like a cute blanket, some lip balm, some other minor cosmetics that were honestly super cute for hospital stuff.

My mom......she came and went a few times. My (step) dad was mainly the one to stay with me, despite it being "girly problems". They never told me what could have or did cause it, but some fucked up Dr told me that because of this, I had a better chance of winning the lottery 100 times than ever successfully or safely carrying or birthing a live, healthy baby. He was apparently having a shit week and was strongly reprimanded (not over me) as this had happened with some other women as well.

Well, I found out earlier this year from an OB that my system looks completely fine and I shouldn't have any issue with childbirth when I'm ready. My mom, I'm NC with her, her almost letting me die is one big reason, but there are millions more.

My dad.....he passed about 2 days after I got with my current bf. Which sucks. Really fucking badly. But....my bf has been my rock through everything, and I've been his, too. We've really helped each other cope with our pasts. But yeah. That's the story of how Aunt Flo bout took my ass out.

Username: Logical-Victory-2678

Riptide. I was at the beach floating on my back in front of thousands of people. I was the furthest one out, but at peace just floating in the ocean. I would look up every few minutes, see that I had drifted a bit and then swim back to where I was in front of my partner who was on the beach. I wasn't wearing a life preserver or using any floats. When I float on my back I keep my lungs full of air and breath slow. It's really peaceful.

I got complacent and floated without checking my surroundings for a few minutes. When I looked up, I was very far out and the people on the beach had been replaced by a cliff face and boulders jutting out of the water. I tried to swim back, but I was being pulled into a cove. The current kept getting stronger. I was in great shape and had been a lifeguard years before, so I knew to swim perpendicular to the current.

I honestly think that over my life I had become so comfortable in the water and didn't have the time to think about how dangerous a situation I was in. I just swam to the closest rock above the water. I had to fight to get every breath of air. When I reached the first rock, I was able to grab it and thought I was safe. A wave smashed my head on the rock and ripped me away from it.

When I got to the next rock, I could barely breath and I was starting to panic. It was covered in barnacles, or some kind of shellfish. They were very sharp. I reached the rock and clung onto it with all my strength and waited for the next wave. The barnacles(?) cut deeply into me.

The wave came, and I nearly lost my grip. When it passed I scrambled halfway up the boulder, onto a little surface. I held tight and waited for the next wave to pass, then I climbed the rest of the way to the top. It was above the waves and I sat there for a few minutes coughing and wheezing. I was so tired.

After I rested, I took my time waiting for the waves to pass and the going from rock to rock until I made it to the shore. The rocks were only a few feet apart. I was bleeding from my stomach, legs and forehead but I didn't care. I was grateful to be alive and BREATHING.

Made it back and my partner was still asleep. I just sat down next to her and drank a ton of water while cleaning my wounds. She panicked when she woke up and saw the blood though, and I felt bad. I was just starting to realize the gravity of what I had just been through though and I was scared. I still have the scars from that rock.

I didn't mention earlier but when I was swimming to the boulder that saved me, under the water it sounded like I was inside of an engine. That's the best way I can describe it. Beneath the water was so incredibly loud.

Username: Omaza

From being pregnant at 14 and doctors not taking me seriously because of it. About halfway through my pregnancy, I started getting extremely sick. I couldn't keep anything down to the point where I was throwing up almost every moment of the day and all night long as well.

As the pregnancy went on, I ended up losing more weight than I had ever gained from it, and I was already underweight beforehand. I fainted on three separate occasions, with the last one resulting in a mild concussion due to hitting my head off a stove.

The only person who was there at that time is an unreliable witness so there is a chance it might have been a seizure due to them describing it as my eyes rolling into the back of my head and "becoming possessed by a demon".

Along with all of that, I also had extreme stomach pains the entire time. Often hitting a 10/10 pain and never really falling below a 4/10. Sometimes, it would have me screaming, and every baby kick felt like I was being stabbed.

I talked to my boyfriend's mom (now mother-in-law) and went to the doctors so many times but always got told that it was just phantom labour pains or got told to "stop exaggerating, baby kicks don't hurt!"
The only tests the hospitals would ever do is manually check if I was in labour, then they would send me home when they realized I wasn't.

I went so many times that a doctor straight up told me that I was making it up for attention and taking the staff away from people who actually needed help. Eventually, I had my son (which was a close call itself due to unrelated complications), but I didn't get better.

I was still experiencing all the same things, so my husband kept trying to make me go to the hospital but I refused because I didn't want to cause trouble and felt like it was all in my head. It got to the point where I couldn't even stand up properly on my own and I looked like a ghost.

It was the closest I have ever came to dying but was weirdly the most at peace I had ever felt despite the extreme pain. Like the next time I fell asleep, I could just drift away. He picked me up, put me in the car and took me to the nearest E.R. where they put me on an IV and ran some bloodwork.

I don't remember exactly what happened after but I immediately got transferred to a bigger hospital in a different town and went into surgery as soon as I got there. Turns out I had severe Gallstones with blockages that caused infections and acute pancreatitis.. Which had been causing dehydration and malnutrition on top of it.

The doctors told my husband that it was a good thing he forced me to go because I likely wouldn't have survived the weekend with how bad the infection had gotten and how long it was left untreated. I was in the hospital for roughly a month recovering.

The day after surgery, my mother in law stopped by to visit and said with complete sincerity, "I'm very sorry I didn't believe you", which almost made the whole thing worth it since we hadn't gotten along the best before that. Haha

Username: TheHauntedButterfly

Went to the beach with my now ex-GF. Took a 50mg Delta-8 edible 30 minutes before I got there so it would hit once I arrived. Waited a while, but pretty much nothing. I'm fairly experienced with edibles I've taken 3 50mg ones in the past and could still kinda function.

And in my hubris I took another one. Waited another 30 minutes to an hour. Started to feel the effects a tiny bit. ex-GF had a THC vape on her and it had been a while since I had used a THC vape so I started hitting it like a nicotine vape.

Finally started feeling the effects so we get into the water. Everything was going great, was probably chest deep in the water and we were playing around jumping with the waves as they came. Then all of a sudden, I lose all depth perception in my vision. I think, "Whoa that's weird, I must be peaking".

Then my senses start to get weird, all I can really hear or feel in my body is the waves hitting me. I start to lose the sense of what is up and what is down. My vision gets weird, almost like I'm sitting inches away from a monitor looking through it.

I was a bit anxious before, but now I'm scared. I mumble to my ex-GF "I'm getting out". I think she asks me why and looks confused, but I'm already focused on getting the fuck out of the water as quickly as possible.

As the seconds pass my vision gets weirder and weirder. Now it seems like the monitor I'm looking through is flipping upside down and right side up repeatedly. With the few bit of mental faculties I have left, I know I'm heading to the shore. But it doesn't feel like I'm getting to shallower water.

I look down, I'm belly deep now, but the sense my body has makes me feel the waves hitting my entire body. Mix that with no depth perception and my weird visuals and I'm losing my shit internally now. I think I'm going to die. I keep pushing towards the shore.

I'm knee deep in the water, still feels like I'm chest deep. Ankle deep, nothing changes. Once I can see my feet I feel safe and some of the weird feeling go away, but I'm still fucking blasted high.

My ex-GF is coming up behind me now and I tell her I think I almost died and we go sit down. It took me a while to be able to explain it to her because I was so high and she just sits there and looks worried while I spend the next few hours coming down.

I've done so many edibles and still underestimate them. I think if I had hung out much longer in the water I would have lost my sense of direction completely, gotten knocked over by a wave and just drowned because I wouldn't have been able to tell which way was up.

Lesson learned, finally. I smoke/take a lot less weed now so I can only ever handle one, and I don't ever take more than 50mg.

Username: S0me_Day

I was sport climbing at Point Dume in Malibu -- yes that [Point Dume](https://www.imdb.com/search/title/?locations=Point+Dume%2C+Malibu%2C+California%2C+USA) -- and was setting up my lines for the day. If you haven't been, I have never run into more celebrities climbing then at that spot.

This was maybe 7/8 years ago and back then there was a guy who would often be there named Greg who would frequently climb by himself. Instead of rappelling down the "standard" way (imagine sitting on a chair) he would rappel aussie style (head first).

He asked if I wanted to try and I thought it'd be fun. I wasn't new to climbing but I hadn't rappelled this way before, so he helped me setup my line and explained the method. It really isn't very difficult to understand how to do it, there's not much to the mechanism outside of friction, the hard part is just that you just have to be ok jumping off a 200ft cliff head first.

Point Dume has two sides people climb on, the right-hand side which has sand at the bottom and the ocean side which has jagged rocks at the base. I decide the right-hand side makes more sense for a first time, I walk toward the side leaning on the rope to engage tension in the rope, lean over the ledge, and jump. It's amazing, I land ok, and I do it at least three more times. Then I decide it's time for the ocean side, which is much prettier and exposed.

Greg again helps me get setup (I'm using his figure-8), signs off on the rigging, and wanders off to go talk with a friend of mine. I do same thing as before, lean into the rope to apply some tension while walking to edge, look over the ledge, and collect my courage to jump.

Only this time while leaning over the edge something releases. My rope had actually been snagged on a sharp corner and I didn't notice that I actually had much more slack in the line than I had thought. My memory of that moment was that everything got immediately quiet, my vision narrowed, and as I began to stumble forward time slowed wayyy down.

As I fell forward I immediately "knew" that I was going to die and felt a huge wave of calm come over my body, and I had a huge sense of acceptance. My brain was quiet in a way it has never been, then or since. I actually saw myself completely fall all the way to the rocks below with a sharp cut to black, all in slow motion.

Fortunately the slack that was remaining in the rope was only about 10ft and I was jolted back to reality as my brake hand successfully caught myself from continuing to fall. I looked down to see Greg and my friend talking, they hadn't even seen the fall.

I climbed back up the side because I was a bit to freaked out to continue downwards and then sat by myself for a few minutes. I never told anyone that day, out of embarrassment, but it was a weird ride home silently coping with a NDE while everyone else just had a great day climbing.

Username: dadschool

I was going through puberty and had acne like every kid does. Mom told me I needed to see a doctor because she "didn't want me to have acne scars like your dad". My dad is in his late 50s and has better skin then my mom does. He doesn't have acne scars.

He just has more visible pours and oilier skin and never even gets acne. Never seen him have a single zit my whole life aside from occasionally on an ear or side of the neck but never on his face. Welp. Mom marched me to the doctors and I got prescribed oral tetracycline in pill format at 13 indefinitely.

Guess who was in the hospital with optic nerve and brain swelling and as the doctors put it "two weeks away from becoming a vegetable". Mom kept trying to feed me the pills at the hospital while I was basically blind (everything was mostly white and vague smears of colour).

Nurse smacked them out of her hands and gave her a verbal smack down for being irresponsible because they need to rule out medication and allergies as I was bounced around from hospital to hospital.

Yah it was the tetracycline. I have permanent optic nerve scarring, a permanent condition and (luckily) only mild brain damage that makes it hard to remember some things every now and again. Mom legit was like "wait, you don't blame me, do you!?"

My liver is scarred from it and I can't eat certain foods because now I have a chronically inflammed/fatty liver. I have zero peripheral vision. I have chronic migraines and severely high blood pressure because I am now stuck with a condition caused by the meds.

And she had the audacity to ask me if I blamed her, lol. This is why I think kids she be allowed to say no to treatment at 13 if they really don't want to. My mom forced me go to the doctors for a non-issue, my doctor prescribed me a SHORT TERM STEROID indefinitely THAT YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO PRESCRIBED TO ANYONE UNDER 18.

And when I dumped the pills down the sink and got busted she dragged me back to get more of them. Then forced me to take them infront of her. It started with neck and head pain. Eventually became my whole body. Then my sight started going.

Then I started throwing up every time I stood or sat up or drank liquid or tried to eat anything. Like within 10 mins of consuming. Said doctor just kept saying it was the flu until he forced me to sit up and I threw up bright purple vomit all over him (thanks grape juice).

I was underage so wasn't allowed to advocate for my own health and was basically disabled due to pain and delirium and sevre dehydration. Bad times. Mom wonders why I'm limited contact, lol. Damn.

Username: embilamb

I have a condition called malignant hyperthermia. It's caused by two recessive genes and it's generally found mostly in Eastern European Jews, French Canadians, and Cajun folks.

The mutant genes originated in southern France, hence French Canadians and Cajun because of the Mississippi River and fur trapping. Eastern European Jews, well, Napoleon did invade Russia and there was a lot of raping and pillaging along the way.

I was 14 when I had to go in and have plantars watch removed from the bottom of my feet surgically because they were so many of them that the locally anesthesia would have killed me. Little did they know.. They told me to count backwards from 10, and I wake up and there's no bandages on my feet.

They said there was a problem with the anesthesia. My body temperature rose towards fatal, all the muscles in my body contracted, and my heart started quivering because it was beating so fast due to the contractions.

Back in The '80s, they were just starting to get an idea that all the people who died from anesthesia all those years may have had an allergy of sorts. Luckily, the anesthesiologist literally read an article on it that morning on the toilet before coming into work.

So, they had to rush in the medication to stop the anesthesia from three separate hospitals by ambulance and I woke up without it. I don't remember if they tried to cool me down with ice or if I just naturally cool down, then again, maybe I am brain dead.

Anyway, within 6 months to a year, I had a cubic centimeter of muscle removed from my thigh which they sliced up to put eye droppers of all the common anesthetics of the time to see which I could take and which I couldn't.

Furthermore, I was involved in two studies, one of which was published in the New England journal of medicine in the late '80s or early '90s when I was in college. I filled up questionnaires, released my medical records, but my name will be forever hidden because they used numbers to label the subjects.

So, even though I trash my knee 40 years ago and haven't been able to have it fixed because of the generally anesthesia issues, I am happy to report that my experience saved my cousin's life when he had to have a congenital heart defect repaired.

Unfortunately, my grandfather, who doubted that my father was his biological son, found out the hard way when he died on her operating table getting a quadruple bypass. I hope that my experience has helped mankind for the better because there's no way I'm ever going to be an Andrew Carnegie or a Bill Gates.

Username: Commercial-Ad-852

I was on a trip with my husband's family to Ladakh in the Himalayas. The trip was going well overall, I was just a little dehydrated due to the altitude but that always happens to me when I am at high altitudes so I wasn't concerned.

Unfortunately, when we went, that area was experiencing unseasonably warm weather (thanks, climate change) and the roads were getting flooded due to ice melt. At one point, we were going to drive about 3 hours but we were stuck in the car for nearly ten (with no AC) due to road closures and flooding, and we didn't have enough food or bottled water to cover that time. By the time we got past the worst of it, we were all starving and stopped in a village for some food.

Unfortunately, this ended up with 8 out of 13 of us getting food poisoning. I don't really know why, but I had it the worst and I spent absolutely all night vomiting. I couldn't sip water without throwing up. It was after only a few hours of vomiting that I started feeling really weak, faint, and dizzy.

I told my in-laws that I felt like I needed fluids, and just by looking at my they agreed. I have had food poisoning before, but I had never felt so ill than I did at that point. They arranged for one of our drivers to take me, my husband, and his parents to the nearest hospital, which was about an hour away.

I was completely delirious and lost consciousness (briefly) on the drive over. I was having bizarre shooting pains throughout my body. We stopped twice, once because I thought I had to throw up but I passed out instead, and the other because I did throw up the water they made me drink when I fainted.

We finally made it to the hospital, the doctor took one look at me and admitted me for fluids (which they had a hard time administering because I was so dehydrated they couldn't get a needle in). Thankfully I only had to stay for a few hours until I stabilized.

This was the last day of our trip and we were going to drive back to Leh from Pangong lake. I don't know exactly how sick I was or how close I was to suffering organ damage, but I do know I have never felt anywhere close to as awful as I did on the drive to the hospital.

When I was released, we made the 5 hour drive back to Leh, and even though I was stable and mostly rehydrated, that drive was MISERABLE. Hot, no AC, too much dust so we couldn't open windows, no stops. I genuinely believe that had I tried to just get back to Leh without going to the hospital first, I would have died, and my husband agrees.

Username: megthegreatone

One night in 2019 I washed some grapes and then sat down in front of the TV to eat them. My palms and the bottoms of my feet started getting really itchy. My gf at the time was at her place and I texted her because my throat was really starting to get itchy and she has a doctorate.

She told me I needed to drop what I was doing and go to the hospital right away. So, I grab my phone, the charger, and go gather my stuff and make my way to my car. I live about 2 miles from the hospital.

As I am driving myself, breathing is getting progressively more difficult. By the time I am at the intersection right near the hospital, I am struggling to breathe, and my vision is already going dark. Luckily for me, the car in front of me was going to the hospital as well and I follow their taillights.

By the time I reach the ER parking lot, I can barely see. I hit a curb and just park my car there rather than fight to get it into a spot. As I am walking from the parking lot to the ER door I am wheezing and gasping for breath. It is really hard to breathe, and I have to use a lot of effort to keep air moving.

I get inside and walk over to the desk. I can't talk, but I do my best to essentially quietly yell "can't breathe" and then toss down my driver's license. I slump into a chair for what feels like forever but was probably more like 10 seconds before I am rushed into one of the rooms.

At this point I am fighting for every breath. They had to give me two separate doses of epinephrine. I'm still struggling to breath and at this point it's all I'm focused on. After a while my throat opens enough that I don't have to struggle and of course they start asking questions about what caused my anaphylaxis. I tell them I was eating grapes, and no one seems to believe me.

I'm forced to stay in the ICU overnight for observation and no one believes that grapes nearly killed me. Those that do disbelieve that I washed them. They also chided me a lot for driving myself but those fucks don't understand what an ambulance ride costs.

They do an allergy test on me a few days later and the only thing I am so allergic to that it could kill me if I ate it, is pollen. So, the allergist and I think that while I rinsed off the grapes, I didn't get rid of pollen stuck to them and they nearly killed me.

The bill for the night in the ICU very nearly bankrupted me financially and I had insurance. Yay US medical system.

Username: CaptainCosmodrome

I was allergic to a mold growing under my house nobody else knew about or were allergic too. Every year when the mold bloomed I would have breathing problems. One year I went into full respiratory shutdown and died in the hospital for a second or two. Not very long. Kept me out of the military and that's my life's biggest regret.

Also, a car bomb went off outside of my house and blew golf balls through my window. I woke up to glass and goofballs raining down on me. (They had been on the back of the truck) I ran outside in confusion and saw a truck burning so I tried to help whoever was inside.

My neighbor my neighbor has been getting ready for work and saw the incident too. As I ran up to the truck to grab the handle, just a few feet away from the engulfed truck, he grabbed me, and carried me away. We got maybe 20 yards from the truck when a second bomb went off and then the gas tank.

Lmao, I also got swatted in high school. Had spent a week building games for the special Olympics and had volunteered to work the game stations I designed, built, and painted when a swarm of cop cars and a tactical apc looking thing with no lights or sirens on stormed the gates of the high school football stadium I was at.

I have never seen so many cops or guns in my life and they were all yelling conflicting commands at me, a young teenager, who had no clue what was going on. I am very lucky nobody had an itchy trigger finger that day. Turns out, some dude at my school who I barely knew by name had threatened to blow up the school, and since it was reported as a rumor without a name attached, the school and cops assumed it was me due to the fact I had experienced the car bombing a few years before.

After some vicious interrogations, I was released. ....and then, lol. During the heat of the BLM protests some kids tried to rob my house. My car was in the shop, my wife and kids gone. Home alone they thought I was gone too.

They broke in, found me, confrontation ensued. I ended up pooping off a 12g round to scare them off. Not intended to hit them, just over their heads as I was outnumbered. The fucking cops showed up again and this time it was dark.

I didn't see how many but it sounded like some kind of action movie with all the gun loading sounds. The speaker was too loud, the lights too bright. I was disoriented and again completely at the mercy of some barely educated asshole. So yeah, shit happens.

Username: DeathofaHoplite

Context: flew F-16s for a couple of years in the AF. Night 2-ship mission, to qualify my wingman on NVGs. We don our goggles, get to work with some basic formation flying for him to get used to basically what amounts to looking down a straw at my jet (which would look like a fuzzy light green object to him).

We eventually start doing some turns in line-abreast formation, where our two jets are side by side about 1-2Nm apart. I'm on the right, he's on the left. I call for a "hook left", meaning both of us turn 180 degrees to the left at the same time, eventually ending up heading in the opposite direction and having 'swapped sides'. We initiate the turn once the call is made.

Mind you, seeing a jet with covert external lighting through NVGs on a pitch black night is basically like seeing a single point of light (his tailpipe exhaust) either staying the same size (remaining the same distance away), getting smaller and dimmer (getting further away) or getting larger (getting closer). You do NOT register this size and brightness change easily, which is why we have tons of safety precautions we take such as not being at the same exact height at all times if you can help it.

I see his light point start to move slightly, and glow brighter. I was expecting this, seeing how when a jet turns away from you, the literal hot-ass-tailpipe is now facing you and giving your gogs more IR energy to "see". What I did not expect, however, was for that light to suddenly, and rapidly, grow in size.

Bugger turned into me. With 0 altitude difference. We're flying at about 450 knots each, giving us 900 knots of closure (about 1035mph, 1667kmph). I immediately yank the stick and try to get out of plane above him, hoping he doesn't do the same, and whether it was pure dumb luck or something/someone looking out for us, we flash past each other, so fucking close that I see his helmeted face staring up at me as we do even through my gogs.

"2, what direction did you hear?"
"Uh, right?"
"Alright we're done for the night. Turn left 180, 1's tied, saddled."

On review, we passed each other with about 6' to spare. Sounds like a lot, but that's about the height of a human being, in between two jets screaming into each other at 900 knots of closure. Our vertical fin on the F-16 is just slightly taller than that too. We both made mistakes that night but thankfully we walked away in one piece.

Username: laubase

I was 11 or 12 years old and out of school for the summer. It was roughly a week or two before school started back up again for the fall. My little brother and I were home alone while my mom was out running errands and we decided we’d surprise her by tidying the house up before she got back. I was pumped—it was going to make her whole day!

Well, our small house could get quite cluttered. I decided that one particularly junky floor lamp that we had was in the way where it stood and should be slid over a bit. In the process of trying to scoot the lamp across the floor, I saw that the cord had gotten stuck under the piece of furniture right next to it. Thinking it would pop right out and in my eagerness to get the house cleaned up as quickly as possible, I _yanked the cord._

Yes, it was plugged in. I’m sure you can guess what happened next. Or, maybe, like preteen me, you never considered what may happen if you’re too rough with a very old cord that’s got white-hot electricity coursing through it.

The cord ripped open where the piece of furniture was (apparently very heavily) crushing it. To my absolute shock, a bright ball of live electricity exploded out of the cord where it split and _crawled_ like a provoked animal all the way up the cord where I was still holding it. The fiery ball clung to my hand and wouldn’t let go no matter how much I screamed and flailed.

My brave kid brother, bless him, unplugged the lamp—a ball of electricity still clinging to my flesh—and called my mom as I finally shook the dissipating fire ball from my hand. I ran to the next room to process what had just happened to me.

My hand looked like charred hamburger meat and felt like it had been through a meat grinder, too. It didn’t even occur to me at the time that I had not only been burned, but also electrocuted. I shakily ran my hand under cold water in the kitchen sink until my mom got home. I didn’t know what else to do, honestly, so I treated it like any other burn.

Thankfully, since the water wasn’t helping, my mom took me to an urgent care where I was told I was lucky to be alive. They soaked my mangled flesh in iodine and gave me a tetanus shot. I had to shower with my hand in a Ziploc bag for about a month, but it surprisingly healed without a single scar. Hands have incredible healing power, apparently! I’ve been very gentle with cords ever since.

Username: CorgisOnTheMoon

I used to work at an outdoor camp as a climbing instructor. Part of the job is climbing to the top of the tower on top rope, then taking the rope off and putting in on pulleys. Pulleys keep the rope nice, pulleys inside at night keeps the pulleys nice.

Its easy to do, we have “short lines” that connect us to the tower when off the main rope. And by golly i trust these things. I mean, leap off the tower top using them to stop me as demonstration (and sick joke sometimes) because I KNOW the rope has me ALWAYS. I treat the ropes nice and they treat me nice.

The tower had multiple runs which required using more than one short line to reach them all. It also had some pillars it was mounted to (in)conveniently for maneuvering with ease. Like hug a tree and tiptoe on the edge of a single sheet of plywood, except 5 stories in the air.

I trust my rope so usually i say speed is king and just the short line as an anchor to swing around the pillars. Full on return to monkee mode up their sailing through the “canopy” on my “vine”

One day I simply didn’t want to swing on my vine. Everything was done. I had already been off the main rope and still was. I had one of the short lines on the tower and another on my loops read to get hooked up. But my body refused to unleash monkee mode.

I was instead beginning to shake and get nervous while making my way to the actual platform. This was the first and only time i had ever actually climbed around the pillars and i was hugging that thing like my life depended on it for some reason.

After that ordeal i am laying on the platform, nice and stable. I unhook the second short line to clip up to the tower and finally discover my grave error. I had mixed my lines up that day. I had just gone off top while connected to the tower by AN ACCESSORY loop and nothing else; a NON RATED and completely NON lifesaving part of the harness.

A year later the climbing crew and I tested the accessory loop at just a few inches from ground.
The accessory loop on MY harness tore right off.

I have no idea who, what, why, how i got the lizard brain response that I was going to die when my conscious self didn’t find the error until it was literally in my hands. But had I worked business as usual that day and said calm down to my guts feeling, i would have taken a fall from the fifth floor instead of just five inches.

Username: el3ph_nt

An apple slice. Chopped up an apple and added it to a bowl of oatmeal. I was starving, my second bite I didn’t even chew I just scarfed it down and immediately knew I messed up. A way too big piece of apple that was shaped like a triangle was stuck in my throat.

I first tried to get it to go down and when that failed I tried to cough and get it to come back up. Panic set in, I was home alone. After maybe 30 seconds of trying I knew it was not budging and immediately called 911. I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t breath.

The operator answers but I can’t even say my address. I start trying to make my way outside to a neighbor as I’m shoving my fingers down my throat to make myself throw up. I’m just a coughing gagging mess.

This amazing operator must of traced my call, within just a few moments she was able to find my location. She knew I was choking and instructed me to chug as much water as I could as fast as I could even though it would be very uncomfortable which it was.

The last thing your body wants to do when you can’t breath is chug water. But I did this, and most of the water just came back out. My throat was totally blocked. She then said to try and induce vomiting in any way possible.

This is the moment when I believe I dislodged the apple, at least enough to where I could get air in. Because I started to be able to talk somewhat. I didn’t realize this in the moment, I still thought I was dying and couldn’t breath.

But she assured me once I coughed out a few words that meant my airway wasn’t totally blocked anymore. The paramedics arrived so fast, maybe 3 mins. I live right in town. I was a slobbering MESS laying on my kitchen floor, oatmeal and spit and water everywhere.

At this point the EMTs determined I was getting oxygen, but I was insistent that this apple was still in my throat and they took me in. I’m still very much in I’m going to die mode. Turns out it wasn’t in my throat by the time we arrived at the hospital but the painful sensation of it being there lasted for hours.

I was released just a few hours after. I had a sore throat and lost my voice for 3 days after. I have never felt so helpless and so close to death in my life. Let me tell you how consciously I chew my food now. I can’t believe an apple almost took me out. Death by apple. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Username: Temporary-Industry-2

There was supposed to be a big meteor shower one night and so my group of friends took three separate cars back into the hills where it would be extra dark. This was in the late 80s.

The two cars in front of us were being driven by two brothers, each of which had new cars (their family had money) and there were friends and girlfriends riding along with them. One brother had a brand new Honda CRX, the other was driving a new VW GT Golf.

I was riding shotgun with my friend who worked at a German auto salvage, so he had a more than 10-year-old VW Rabbit that he basically pieced together. It had a different colored hood, a different colored passenger door, and bigger wheels on the front of the car than on the back. It was a real beater.

So these two brothers are super competitive and they had ladies in the car to impress so they were weaving down the windy mountain road, one tailgating the other. My friend was trying to keep up, but it was hopeless. Suddenly, we went around a turn that was too sharp and we slipped a little bit. I was like, "Come on, man!" and he said. "Don't worry, it won't get worse than that."

Only three turns later, we hit another hairpin and he slides out only to overcompensate and roll towards the steep and long downhill side of the road. We weren't even going that fast, but he was stunned into inaction.

As we rolled over the edge, I reached out gripping each side of the roof of the car and screamed in terror (which he later made fun of me for). We did a full barrel-roll rotation then landed against a tree on the driver's side. I climbed out and my friend climbed out after me through the passenger side. Neither of us was hurt in any way.

We climbed out onto the street and after awhile the brothers realized we were no longer behind them and came back. We told them about the accident, then jumped in their cars to go see the shooting stars because we were teenagers.

It wasn't until the next day when we had our friends who worked at a towing company come to winch the car out of there. Now in daylight we could see that the car was balanced against one tree and large stump.

But if we had been 10 feet further forward or backward, we would have missed the trees and rolled several hundred feet down the hill, to certain death. That was 34 years ago.

Username: Hoobam

Had the artery in my right arm explode from a new infection from a cut in an area that was compromised due to previous IV drug use.

I didn’t think the cup was that bad keep it clean Anto biotic cream all that and I just happen to hit the corner edge of the counter, pretty squared up with it, and it literally burst the cut split wide-open the artery burst and blew out for artillery spray across the room at which point, luckily, I remain calm under situations like that I grabbed a towel and wrapped around my arm and watched as it just started soaking wet blood and I grabbed another towel and wrap it around and then I grabbed a beach towel and wrapped it around and then I realized it wasn’t gonna stop and we’re out to my car which is a stick shift and it was my right arm and drove myself to the hospital urgent care while eating trail mix on the way thinking the sugar would help my glucose levels to keep me conscious long enough to get there.

It’s very calm and clear moment got into the door with all the blood soaked towels around my arm leaking onto the floor where they asked me, what I needed help with and then seeing the towels realizing grabbed me and ran me into the room where the blood it actually stopped and the attending doctor put a butterfly bandage on.

It gave me some antibiotics and said come check with us tomorrow I left went home and barely slept at about 6 o’clock in the morning. I called the real hospital explain the situation by then my hands are swollen.

It was painful and they said you need to get in here right now or call an ambulance if you can’t, don’t do anything else just get here right now and I went in and they put me directly into surgery Dr took a really large piece a vein from somewhere else and put it in my arm to replace the broken artery please I was told it was the first time the doctor ever did that it took about 9 to hours.

I forget what they say they put in almost 3 L of blood during surgery and another liter after surgery. I did the whole process with no narcotics just anti-inflammatory NSAID four months later moved out of state started a second career at 46 years old. and met the woman of my dreams.

Now just trying to live good and leave everybody and everything around me hopefully better for being around.

Username: SubstantialMidnight3

I was 8 and i was in Martinique for vacations with my family. We needed to leave the house we rented at 10am but our flight to Paris was at 10pm. Luckily my mom had a friend, a women with her husband who leaved there, 30 minutes away from the airport.

They had a pool and we played in it with their daughter and my little sister who were both around 5yo. I started doing backflips into the pool but after a while, the flange of the pool was very wet. I went for one last flip but i slipped and opened my head on ~15cm long and ~3cm wide.

I saw the pictures afterward and it was terrific. It was 7pm at the moment and we still needed to take the plane, but instead of just going to the hospital and taking a plane afterwards, my father decided that we would still take the plane, in a way or another.

So there i am, with my head wide opened, in the car of the husband of my mom's friend, heading to his office to get his tools because he was a surgeon and offered to suture my head partially for me to still take the plane. We arrived there in about 20 minutes.

He put me on my stomach on a kind of bench with the head hanging above the ground. He first shaved my hair, there was a mix of blood and hair falling in front of my eyes, de plus the horrible pain it was awful. He started to suture my head but there was no anesthesia.

It was so bad i was screaming extremly loud to the point where my mom who was holding my hand started having a panic attack. I only got 3 stitches since we didn't had time and it hurt a lot. We quickly went to the airport and we were able to take the plane.

Everything went well except at the arrival i fell in a coma and was transported to the hospital. Turns out my head didn't handle the pressure changes quite well. At the hospital i got 12 more stitches and woke up 1 day later.

After that i didn't had any other problems and everything went well. As of today i have absolutly no sequelae aside from a huge scar (which is covered by my hair who grew back lol). So yeah, got pretty lucky on this one.

Username: jinxio_