When I was a youngster, my life was rather dangerous. And this trend continued when I grew up into an oldster, but despite all my adventures the statistics in aggregate still don't compare to the amount of life-threatening situations I found myself in during those kindergarten years.
This next NDE happened when I was 4 going on 5. We were living near the beach, at a place called Canal. It was summer, so I had even more free time than usual. (Which at that age is quite a lot of free time.) Across the street lived this one guy named Donald who was a sometime friend of mine. We liked action-figures and TMNT.
One day he got this super-new G.I. Joe figurine and I had to go see it when he opened the package, so I told my Mom I'd be right back and raced over to his house.
What I didn't realize was that my Mom was taking a nap, and didn't even hear me leave.
At Donald's house we unwrapped the Joe, reveling in its mystical glory as a poseable personification of badass coolness!
Then Donald had to go with his Mom to run errands and I left to go back home.
As I prepared to cross the street, I remembered to look both ways. On one side was a car driving really fast, but it seemed so far away, and I was in a hurry to get back home so I could beg Mom to buy me a new G.I. Joe action-figure.
So instead of waiting for the car to pass, I started running across the street.
Unfortunately, my short little legs weren't exactly as quick as a V6 BMW.
I felt a wall of force knock me in the back. My four year-old body flew into the gutter, with my gut landing on the curb. I felt a sudden, intense pain all over, and my head smacked against the concrete.
Wheels screeched as the driver braked to see what happened. But before I could get up the engine turned-over again, and he raced off.
Donald's Dad ran over to see what happened, and the noise woke up my Mom who came flying out of the those in a robe.
She took one look at me, and I knew from the tilt of her mouth that it was trouble. She didn't frown. She didn't pout. She pulled her lips back in a snarl so fierce I wondered if this time I really would die!
Mom walked over and talked with Donald's Dad for a second to figure out what happened. Then she asked me. After I told her the whole story -- including the G.I. Joe action-figure! -- she smacked me so hard I thought I got hit by the car again!
Then she hugged me very close and started crying.
I remember we sat down on the curb, and my Mother explained what happened, and why she was upset. She told me that I could've died, and what dying means to those you love. (I didn't understand most of it, but I knew it was important, so I tucked it away in case there was a test on this later.) She told me she loved me and that she would be very sad if I was gone. I told her I wasn't going anywhere because I run too fast. She laughed, because that didn't make any sense.
My head started hurting even worse and so we went to the doctor's where they said I had a mild concussion -- my head must be made of adamantium since I've had so many traumatic head-injuries with almost no actual injury -- and a busted gut, from landing on the curb.
I had to get a hernia operation the next day, and it was NOT fun. The doctor made me tell the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears backwards, but the anesthesia kicked-in right before I got to the end/beginning. When I woke up I remember being very cross with the doc about that, but she just laughed at me.
Besides a scar so faint it's almost invisible across my stomach, there's no other sign of what happened.
We never figured out who hit me, or why they didn't stop, or even where they went. Personally though, if I ever were to meet the guy who hit me, I'd probably laugh it off.
And then punch him in the face for pulling a hit & run on a four year-old.