Dying to Be Me (3 page)
Authors: Anita Moorjani
In that state, I somehow knew that in some way, I was meant to inspire thousands, maybe tens of thousands. But it wasn’t clear how I was meant to do so—I just knew that in some way, I was going to be helping a lot of people. I specifically got the feeling that I didn’t need to do anything for this to happen; I just had to be myself and enjoy life, and to allow myself to be an instrument for something much greater to take place.
That has been the case, as I’ve come to speak and write about my experiences in response to queries from the fields of medicine and science, as well as individuals seeking answers about the nature of the world and their experiences. That’s how this book came to be as well (those details are in Chapter 14). I freely explain what I’ve learned as a result of the cancer and my NDE. I enjoy sharing my experience, and my understanding of life that I derived from it, especially when I feel that others can benefit.
My story begins in Part I, with how I grew up at the intersection of multiple cultures that held distinct and often contradictory beliefs. I’ll explain how this shaped me and fostered the fears that turned out to manifest in disease, taking you with me on my journey into adulthood and my descent into the prison of cancer.
Part II explores the NDE itself—what I experienced and understood at the time—and what happened next. Being healed of cancer and working to find my new place in the world has been a surprising, challenging, and exhilarating journey!
In Part III, I’ll describe what I now understand about healing, the way the world is today, and how we can live as a reflection of who we really are, allowing our magnificence to shine through. Then I’ll wrap up with a question-and-answer section, containing some of the most common and most challenging concerns I hear.
But before I share with you what I’ve learned from my experience, I’d like to clarify that I’m not claiming to know any universal or scientific truths or to be anyone’s spiritual guru. Nor am I trying to start yet another religion or belief system. My only aim is to
help,
not
convince
.
I especially wish to emphasize that you do
not
need to have an NDE to heal! My intention is to share with you all the emotional and psychological triggers that I believe contributed to my getting cancer, in the hope that in identifying these factors, you can reduce or possibly even eliminate your chances of getting sick in the first place. At the same time, if you or someone you know has cancer or any other serious illness, please know that there are many paths to healing. I would only suggest that you follow what feels right for you and resonates with you personally.
If you’re looking for step-by-step instructions or a set of tenets to follow, then I’m the wrong person for you, because I don’t believe in creating any “one size fits all” dogma. It would only limit who you are. Even when I speak of loving myself, my intention isn’t to draw attention to me, but for you to experience that same feeling within yourself. In sharing my experience and my insights, my only purpose is to ignite the spark of magnificence that lies within you. My desire is to awaken the dormant guru within you that guides you to find your own place at the center of the universe.
It’s my hope that you find joy in each and every day of your journey and come to love life as much as I do these days!
Oh my God, I feel
incredible
! I’m so free and light! How come I’m not feeling any more pain in my body? Where has it all gone? Hey, why does it seem like my surroundings are moving away from me? But I’m not scared! Why am I not scared? Where has my fear gone? Oh wow, I can’t find the fear anymore!
These were some of my thoughts as I was being rushed to the hospital. The world around me started to appear surreal and dreamlike, and I could feel myself slip farther and farther away from consciousness and into a coma. My organs were beginning to shut down as I succumbed to the cancer that had ravaged—no, devoured—my body for the past four years.
It was February 2, 2006, a day that will be etched in my memory forever as the day I “died.”
Although in a coma, I was acutely aware of everything that was happening around me, including the sense of urgency and emotional frenzy of my family as they rushed me to the hospital. When we arrived, the moment the oncologist saw me, her face filled with shock.
“Your wife’s heart may still be beating,” she told my husband, Danny, “but, she’s not really in there. It’s too late to save her.”
Who is the doctor talking about?
I wondered.
I’ve never felt better in my life! And why do Mum and Danny look so frightened and worried? Mum, please don’t cry. What’s wrong? Are you crying because of me? Don’t cry! I’m fine, really, dear Mama, I am!
I thought I was speaking those words aloud, but nothing came out. I had no voice.
I wanted to hug my mother, comfort her and tell her that I was fine, and I couldn’t comprehend why I was unable to do so. Why was my physical body not cooperating? Why was I just lying there, lifeless and limp, when all I wanted to do was to hug my beloved husband and mother, assuring them that I was fine and no longer in pain?
Look, Danny—I can move around without my wheelchair. This feels so amazing! And I’m not connected to the oxygen tank anymore. Oh wow, my breathing is no longer labored, and my skin lesions are gone! They’re no longer weeping and painful. After four agonizing years, I’m finally healed!
I was in a state of pure joy and jubilation. Finally, I was free from the pain caused by the cancer that had ravaged my body. I wanted them to be happy for me. Why weren’t they happy that my struggle was finally over, that
their
struggle was over? Why weren’t they sharing my jubilation? Couldn’t they see the joy I was feeling?
“Please, there must be something you can do,” Danny and my mother pleaded with the doctor.
“It’s only a matter of hours for her,” the oncologist argued. “Why didn’t your other doctors send her to us earlier? Her organs are already shutting down, and that’s why she has slipped into a coma. She won’t even make it through the night. You’re asking for the impossible. Whatever we administer at this stage could prove too toxic and fatal for her body, as her organs aren’t even functioning!”
“Well, maybe,” Danny insisted, “but I’m not giving up on her!”
My husband held my limp hand tightly as I lay there, and I was aware of the combination of anguish and helplessness in his voice. I wanted more than anything to relieve him of his suffering. I wanted him to know how wonderful I was feeling, but I felt helpless in trying to convey it.
Don’t listen to the doctor, Danny; please don’t listen to her! Why is she saying that? I’m still here, and I’m fine. Better than fine—in fact, I feel great!
I couldn’t understand why, but I experienced what everyone was going through—both my family members as well as the doctor. I could actually feel their fear, anxiety, helplessness, and despair. It was as though their emotions were mine. It was as though I became them.
I’m feeling your pain, darling—I can feel all your emotions. Please don’t cry for me, and tell Mum not to cry for me, either. Please tell her!
But as soon as I started to get emotionally attached to the drama taking place around me, I also felt myself being simultaneously pulled away, as though there were a bigger picture, a grander plan that was unfolding. I could feel my attachment to the scene receding as I began to realize that everything was perfect and going according to plan in the greater tapestry.
It was then that the realization truly set in that I was actually dying.
Ohh…I’m dying! Is this what it feels like? It’s nothing like I ever imagined. I feel so beautifully peaceful and calm…and I feel healed at last!
I then understood that even if my physical body stopped, everything is still perfect in the greater tapestry of life, for we never truly die.
I was still acutely aware of every detail unfolding before me as I observed the medical team wheeling my near-lifeless body to the intensive care unit. They were surrounding me in an emotional frenzy, hooking me up to machines while poking and prodding with needles and tubes.
I felt no attachment to my limp body as it lay there on the hospital bed. It didn’t feel as though it were mine. It looked far too small and insignificant to house what I was experiencing. I felt free, liberated, and magnificent! Every pain, ache, sadness, and sorrow was gone. I was completely unencumbered, and I couldn’t recall feeling this way before—not ever.
I then had a sense of being encompassed by something that I can only describe as pure, unconditional love, but even the word
love
doesn’t do it justice. It was the deepest kind of caring, and I’d never experienced it before. It was beyond any physical form of affection that we can imagine, and it was
unconditional
—this was
mine
, regardless of what I’d ever done. I didn’t have to do anything or behave a certain way to deserve it. This love was for me, no matter what!
I felt completely bathed and renewed in this energy, and it made me feel as though I
belonged
, as though I’d finally arrived after all those years of struggle, pain, anxiety, and fear.
I had finally come home.
India is a wonderful country, yet I wasn’t destined to live there. Although my parents are ethnically Indian, originating from Hyderabad Sindh, I was born in the beautiful country of Singapore.
My paternal grandfather was a textile merchant who owned a family business in Sri Lanka, importing and exporting European, Indian, and Chinese textiles throughout the world. Because of the nature of our company, my father was required to travel around before finally settling down in what was the British colony of Hong Kong when I was just two years old.
My origins immersed me in three cultures and languages simultaneously. Hong Kong, a vibrant and bustling metropolis, is a city predominantly populated by Chinese, so I learned to speak Cantonese with the local people. My parents sent both my brother, Anoop, and me to British schools, where the teaching was in English, and most of my schoolmates were British expatriates. At home, however, my family spoke our native Sindhi language and practiced the Hindu way of life.
My father was a tall, handsome man, who commanded respect from his family. Although I knew he loved us, his manner was strict, and he expected us to conform to his rules. I was afraid of him, and as a child, I made sure that I never crossed him. In contrast, my mother was always kindly toward both my brother and myself, and I never feared sharing my feelings with her.
I absolutely adored Anoop, and we’ve been very close our whole lives, even though he’s five years older than I am. For a child, this is a substantial age gap, so we rarely played together, nor did we ever squabble. Instead, I looked up to him, and he was very protective of me. I felt very safe when he was around, and knew that I could speak to him about anything. He has always been a stronger male influence in my life than my father.
As traditional Hindus, my parents had an arranged marriage, and they hoped to someday set up suitable matches for Anoop and me when we were old enough. Also, traditionally, a woman would be required to be subservient to her husband and to the men of the household.