My Trip to Heaven & Back

The Story of my Visit and how Death was Overcome

Satan’s been messing with the wrong gal.

For a few years now, he has attempted to dismantle the three ministries I work closely with, and in August, he decided to target me with greater force. It quickly became evident that taking me out was not THE PLAN, but I don’t know if he got the message. He seems kind of dumb in that respect.

I’d been struggling with allergies. In fact, I’d primarily been working at home due to them and under the care of an allergist. I resisted the immunotherapy shots, but my throat swelled enough times this year that we were unable to put it off any longer. I not only started those, but I started on a $20K once-a-month injection called Xolair. It is “a monoclonal antibody that binds to immunoglobulin E (IgE), the antibody that triggers allergic reactions” (definition and purpose generated by A.I.). The medical bill and medical records literally say I was receiving chemo.

Hubs was at a work event when my symptoms started. And they were unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My entire body trembled, and my heart raced as my Apple Watch flashed at me. I kept passing out—fade to black. I lost control of some of my bodily functions. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton.

But God was talking to me. Walking me through it. “Treat this as an allergic reaction,” I heard clearly in my head.

“Well, this is unlike any allergy I’ve had,” I argued. But I made my way to my purse anyway and took (most) of my emergency oral med pack I’d put together. I forgot the Pepcid, which addresses the H3 receptor. I headed back to the couch, where I tried to lie down several times but heard, “Do not go to sleep.” So I pushed myself back up again as I tried to text hubs and considered calling 911. Then I was (somewhat loudly) again informed to treat it as an allergic reaction.

“Oh! You mean my EpiPen!” I somehow crept to the kitchen and my purse, where I pulled it from the depths. I returned to the couch, couldn’t read the label, and scrambled for my reading glasses. With the shot finally given, I tried to lie down again, but God told me to sit up.

The EpiPen seemed to work for a bit.

Until it didn’t.

I knew I was in trouble.

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I called 911. I tried to text some family members, but I trembled so badly I couldn’t.

The EMT arrived (another miracle as they’d been finishing up a call somewhat nearby and should have been MUCH further away) and got me into the ambulance. I continued to pass out, and every time I did, they tried to keep me awake as they inserted an IV, took blood, and gave me steroids. I was getting ready to fade to black again, so they asked what I do for a living. “I help domestic violence victims and I write books and oversee CCW…”

Immediately, my head fell to the right on my pillow, and my eyes closed.

But it was no longer fade-to-black.

It was a gold cloud. But of course, I can’t find a picture even close to show you. It was a muted gold, and there was movement behind it - people. I needed to get closer and see what this was all about.

But as soon as I tried, two kaleidoscope panels snapped down in front of the gold cloud. It was glass (gems) in a mosaic pattern and was moving, living, and breathing. There were pearls at the edges and small pieces (I believe) of black onyx. The glass pieces spun like those in a kaleidoscope toy from your childhood. The colors were brilliant oranges I’d never seen before and cannot find now, as well as pink and slightly purple. They created pictures. I saw a flower and thought of our upcoming Hawaii trip. I remember thinking of my dad’s glass mosaic creations, which he worked hard on. I felt like I stared for several minutes, but it wasn’t really that long. Things are timeless there.

“Oh,” I mused. “I’m not supposed to see behind there yet.”

Someone stood to my right. I wanted to look but wasn’t able to turn my head. I suddenly realized I wasn’t supposed to see Him yet either. This was not boding well for getting into heaven!

Then, He spoke. My Lord has a beautiful baritone voice. I don’t know why I always expected a bass. :-) He said, “Go. There is still so much work to be done.”

As soon as He said, “GO,” I vaulted backward, safe in His arms. It was so fast that I heard, “…so much work to be done,” as I opened my eyes in the ambulance. The EMT next to me told the driver to get a move on, and we took off.

At the ER, not much helped, until they gave me Pepcid (hits the body’s H3 receptors) and a less-than-five-minute entire IV bag flush. The doctor came around as I finally could speak again, and my body had stopped shaking the whole bed. He told me that I knew exactly what I needed and that, with my medical history, they needed to listen to me. (I did not have that response the last time I visited that hospital, so perhaps it is my chart that I told a previous provider I carry an EpiPen in my purse and would administer it if necessary.) Really, it wasn’t me, but God. Hubs came in shortly thereafter, and I started blabbering about orange kaleidoscope gates and Jesus, who had talked to me.

I couldn’t shut up about it. I still can’t. :-)

A couple of days later, my primary doctor’s office called to check in on me, and I asked them a question. Then I said, “And apparently, I flatlined in the ambulance because I went somewhere.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” Then they immediately refilled the prescriptions I had called about, which I had already requested at least three times over the past two weeks. Just had to die, I guess.

P.S. - Yes, it appears it was a reaction to the Xolair. I’d had my sixth shot of it two days before.

Added 7/14/25- View my episode with Randy Kay here.

https://pie.yt/?v=

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