Student nurse Jeanette Atkinson, 43, was just 18 when she collapsed with multiple blood clots in her legs and lungs. She lives in Eastbourne.
When I was rushed to hospital, the doctors didn't expect me to survive.
I was unaware of what was happening to me, drifting in and out of consciousness, but suddenly, I realised that rather than lying on a bed as I had been, I had started floating up towards the ceiling.
A moment later, I was looking down on myself from above, watching myself lie there, as if asleep.
I didn't just hover there statically, but went to look at some of the other patients in the ward, floating above them as I had done above myself.
I noticed that there was a thick layer of dust on the top of the strip lighting in the ward.
In fact, I remember moaning to myself about it, angry that nobody had had the time to go up there and clean it. Then I went over to the nurses' station, where one of the nurses was sitting doing some writing, her chin cupped in her hand.
At that instant, the light changed - there was a sort of fuzziness in the ward and as it went pitch black I realised that I was in a tunnel with a corkscrew effect that was making it turn. At the bottom of the tunnel were some lights and it was like holding a child's kaleidoscope up to the window and looking out of it. It was absolutely magnificent.
I thought: 'I just have to go to those lights,' the draw was so strong and I had nearly got there when a voice said to me: 'Come on you silly old cow, it's not your turn yet.'
And with that, I was back in my body, in pain, unable to breathe, with an emergency resuscitation team working on me.
It's hard to explain but I know there is something on the other side - and it's a more peaceful, happy place than here. I don't think I can make sense of it.
My daughter Rachael died of malignant melanoma 19 months ago when she was 17.
Losing a child is the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a parent, but I suppose that in some way , the experience I have had myself affords me some comfort. If the journey Rachael went on was even half as wonderful as mine, I know she would have been a very happy girl, and at total peace.
There are always going to be sceptics, but until it actually happens to them, then they don't know.
They'll just have to accept my word that that's what happened to me. It has taught me not to be afraid and that there's nothing to be feared. I'm looking forward to when I do actually go, but not just yet - I've got too much to do.