Let me tell you one thing. Outside of writing, getting anywhere near death really sucks. It's invariably painful; panic levels off the charts. You hear about "humane" ways to kill. I assure you, there is no such thing. When you're so close to death that it's shocking you survive, when you're at the stage where you're SURE you're going to die, your vision is mostly blacked out, your racing heart has slowed to almost nothing, you can barely breathe... no matter who you are, it is terrifying.
 There comes a point, however, when you are just ready to accept it, even through your fear. Where you know that there is just no way out. That your life is fading away. It's not true that it flashes before your eyes. There's nothing like that. It's just pain and terror and resignation before you're brought back from the brink, and you slip through Death's fingers, willingly or not, once again.
 Oh but how I relish my position. I am the black cat that crosses back and forth across Death's vile path.