Rev. Dr. Gregory D. Leist’s Chemotherapy, Radiation, and Multiple Surgeries, and becoming a Make-A-Wish child Experiences:

1. The following text comes from my book, not published, which documents my experiences before and after being admitted to Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh, PA.

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Four plus months into 7th grade I got onto the bus this one cold December morning and while my old friends were in the back of the bus laughing and ignoring me, I sat in the middle of the bus looking out the window in a daze not feeling good.  I remember hearing words and sounds of my old friends, but I just did not care.  I was mentally somewhere else.  I did not want to be on the bus or go to school.  I had zero energy remaining in me.  I did not care about life anymore.  

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From 3rd grade until 7th grade, I would still go to CCD on Sundays.  Every Sunday as class started, I remember Father Leger and Father Feeney would come into the classroom and we all in unison had to say, “Good morning, Father Leger and/or Father Feeney.  Then we read from CCD books and discussed Catholic things.  I was completely beyond this religious thinking because the religion made no sense to me.   Why?  I would listen to numerous stories about my father being beaten by nuns and by his father and his mother occasionally.  I learned one set of Godparents did not want to be Catholic anymore and converted to be a Methodist.  I noticed during church every Sunday we all said “Peace Be with You” and shook hands, yet upon conclusion of the mass everyone would push each other to get to their cars first.  Then cut each other off in traffic to get home first or to arrive to the town restaurant for brunch first.  Additionally, after I was made aware Father Leger refused to drive out to our house to give my mother her last rights this made me think about how we are told God or Jesus loves us?  I asked myself why is all of this happening and I also thought, if religion is about love, then why when everyone leaves the church they treat each other like garbage.  I then would question religion in relation to my other questions, “Why did the relatives not care about my father and I anymore?” and “Why was I being treated poorly by my old elementary school friends?”  I never did anything to them.

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The bus arrived at the middle school.  I probably got my books from my locker and went into homeroom.  Then I endured whatever torture I was receiving each morning from my previous friends.  Then I walked to my first or second period class falling asleep at my desk because I was still in a daze.  The class bell rang for the next class period.  I woke up still in a daze and noticed the kid behind me had tied my shoes together as he and others were laughing at me as I tried to get up from my chair.  I could not move.  I also had no strength to move.  They were all laughing at me as I remember staring back at them as they were not there.  I heard laughing and voices, but the sound seemed to be distorted.  Everything was slightly blurry.  The kid that tied my shoes untied them.  I barely got up and staggered to my next class.  I could not see or walk and I was very tired.  Once I was in my third period class desk, I raised my hand and said to the teacher, “I do not feel good.”  I started to walk out of class and down the long main school hall to the nurse’s office.  I remember looking back down the hall and the teacher was watching me as I looked back at her.  I walked down the steps and to this day I have no idea how I walked down them and made it to the nurse’s office.  The only way I got down them I believe is someone divine was assisting me.  However, I remember as I was near the last two steps to the first floor I hung onto the stair rail for dear life and when I got to the metal double doors, I could barely open them.  Once at the nurse’s office the nurse asked me to sit down and the next thing I remember was my father placed me into his truck.  We were headed for Jefferson hospital.  I then barely remember being in a cat scanner, but I do remember I was very hungry.  Dad then rushed me in his truck to Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh, PA.  I should have been life flighted as I was told by others back then, but dad drove me.  I kept saying I was hungry, but I knew father could not afford to get us food.  We pulled over next to a Burger King and he bought me a burger.  We were then in a neurosurgeon’s office at Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh (CHP) and I was immediately admitted.  This was also my birthday, December 15, 1988 – I just turned 13 years old.  Happy Birthday to me!  My dad bought this Garfield mug for me from the hospital gift store, which I still have.  I was connected to an IV and my father called the relatives despite they had not communicated with us since my mother passed – about 4 years ago.  A couple days later a baby with spina bifida was now next to me in the hospital room.  The young parents were very nice and we all talked.  

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I was scheduled for immediate surgery by Dr. Leland Albright, neurosurgeon.  He was a very, very nice brilliant humble skilled man.  The morning of the surgery I could not eat anything.  As they were wheeling me to the operating room on a gurney I was scared and crying.  This wonderful nurse named Donna held my hand and talked to me all the way into the operating room.  As the anesthesiologist said he was to put me under, I said goodnight and everyone laughed.  Upon waking up I had a huge bandage on my head where they had used a new tool to remove the tumor out from the back of my head that was between the lobes of my brain.  I was told they removed it 100%, but there was the chance of potentially broken off microscopic fragments that may have not been removed.  So, I would have to start radiation and chemotherapy soon.  After surgery I was so hungry the nurses had to order two trays for me and I ate it all.  As I ate, I had a voice tell me that I have to live because I have so much to do in my life.  This is where I started to really fight and became alive to not quit; however, as I look back, I had a lot to overcome over my next thirty years of my life, but this is where a spiritual spark was lit inside of me.

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I mentioned previously my father started computer classes at the Community College of Alleghany County (CCAC) funded by a state grant to restart his career and life; however, with me being sick he had to quit school.  I remember feeling very bad about this and that it was my fault that he had to place his life on hold for me.  

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My father had a social worker named Paul Polinka.  Another wonderful man, but he questioned how my father was taking care of me.  My father was financially broke and did the best he could.  Paul then informed my father about Make-A- Wish since I was considered to have a life-threatening illness.  

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I will follow up on Make-A-Wish later in this document due to numerous events occurred at the same time.     

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I would go to the hospital activity room and play a computer game called laser maze.  I loved it.  I briefly got to use a Radio Shack TRS-80 computer in 5th and 6th grade.  Computers were fascinating to me.  I soon got to know the Public Relations lady that organized the room.  One day she had bingo and I won a game.  I did not choose candy or toys – I chose this pair of nice gloves.  I wanted a nice new pair of gloves.  Not old ones.  However, while I won those gloves that night I had to have a spinal tap after the game.  I still cringe and my spine muscles contract when I think, say, or hear that procedure’s name.

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Imagine myself going through the first surgery I ever had.  My head is wrapped in a mummy bandage.  I am 13 years old, scared, in a white walled hospital that smells of antiseptic, life has dumped on me and my father.  Then I win these gloves, which were gold to me, then two seconds after you win your one true prize that gives you joy it is temporarily taken away and you now are having this big needle stuck in between the vertebras of your spine.  Then the nurse practitioner wiggles the needle to get it in place, where the pressure of the needle is not joy at all as you lay on your stomach, then the nurse practitioner says I am sorry buddy, but we will have to take the needle out and do this a second time since the first time did not work!   Well, believe it or not I survived with a gold star because I had never given up to this point in my life and I was not about to give up.  Something kept divinely driving me forward as I look back at this point in my life.  I understand it now, but back then in 1988, I was not aware of the pure love that was supporting me, keeping me safe to move me forward.  You may ask what love?  Well, if I had not experienced that situation I would not have been able to relate compassionately to other’s challenges to help them grow spiritually here and now as I write this document.   What makes me smile now as I think about that night is I was never alone when I was 13 years old or ever.

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A day or two after my surgery the only relatives that came to see me were one of four uncles and aunts.  Since my mother passed, they took me to Canada for a week and let me stay at their house for a week, but other than that I did not see them much.  They were also now accusing my father from stealing $100.00 my grandfather had given me to buy clothes over the summer of 1988.  The money was actually used for more essential items I needed, not clothes.  So, there was tension in the room.  My aunt kept asking me if my head hurt and was staring at me.  I remember thinking to myself let’s think about this!  I am laying in this bed with this bandage on my head receiving the highest type of pain medicine because I had brain surgery.  What do you think?  I said I am fine or something and changed the subject.  Then a conversation started between my father and uncle where my uncle criticized my father about his morals for not wanting to swear.  My uncle told my father he was old fashioned or something.  My uncle crushed my father’s values and morals.  Remember, my father was going through his own life issues.  The young couple next door, across the curtain, with the pre-mature spina bifida baby girl in an incubator, were shedding tears in response to how my aunt and uncle treated my father and thus myself with no respect for our situation.    

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That night after my aunt and uncle left the hospital my father arranged with hospital security to have all relatives check in at the front desk and that if they wished to see me, they had to be escorted to my room.

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Christmas Eve was now upon my father and I once again, but now I was in the hospital.  I received all kinds of toys, which was great.  I had never seen things like I got.  I am sure father was happy for me, but it broke his heart.  Despite being in the hospital though I was receiving love from the nurses and dad was in good spirits because the hospital staff was a family to us, which we never had.  I felt that we were around people that understood us and our situation with no judgement – only unconditional love and compassion.

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After one week plus of recovery I was released to go home.  It was a miracle I lived.  Then one day at home I passed out in the hallway and fell down onto the floor with a seizure.  I was conscious and called out for my father and he helped me.  I then went to bed falling asleep.  He called the neurosurgeon for assistance, but my father did not take me to the hospital.  That night I went to bed and I woke up with massive pains in my head.  I was screaming and thrashing in bed from the pain in my head.  My dad finally called CHP and rushed me to the hospital around 3:00am.  I remember we got to the ER doors and I walked into a room where the doctor was waiting for me.  I remember the doctor talked to me asking me my name and other questions performing a neurological assessment.   Then I passed out.  I was told after I woke up from, now my second surgery, that I passed out in the Emergency Room and I was taken to surgery to receive a basic hydrocephalus shunt.  Furthermore, the basic shunt was installed into my skull and a tube was placed into my ventricles between the lobes of my brain to drain the excess fluid that had built up after my first surgery.  Because my brain had endured increased stress and trauma from the first surgery the ventricles shut down and closed.  I was also told by the doctor I only had a couple minutes to live.  My father drove me to the hospital just in time.  My father’s social worker finally realized my father would do anything for me because he loved me.  Both of them soon became good friends.  

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My father was driving through every red light rushing me to the hospital that morning.  I remember the song Mrs. Robinson was playing on the radio at one moment driving to the hospital.  I was singing to it to relieve the pain, but guess what – I do not like that song anymore.  It is funny how one moment something like a song brings you comfort, but after your traumatic event is over that comfort item that got you through that situation is no longer meaningful and I never wished to hear that song again.     

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Part III: Spring 1989-Back in the Hospital:

I was back in the hospital around the 1st of January 1989.   I mentioned I got to know the PR ladies when I was playing on the computer in the activity room after my first surgery.  They now wanted me to be part of the hospitals 100th year celebration as one of seven children to represent the hospital and to complete a video documentary on my medical story.  

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Simultaneously, I started radiation therapy.  I had to be fitted for a custom mouth piece.  An awful tasting chemical putty that dried was used to create the mouth piece.  I had to wear the mouth piece every day I had therapy because it was used to align me to the machine.  They had mint spray to make it taste better, but trust me it did not help.  The therapy room also had a smell that grossed me out – which the smell became a memory in my head I could not shake for a long time even after I had completed my 45 consecutive days of radiation minus Sundays.   I also had to take pills with grape Kool-Aid because that is what they had at the time.  After my forty-five consecutive days of radiation each morning I never wanted to drink or smell grape Kool-Aid ever again.  Between the smell of the room and building itself and the smell of grape Kool-Aid these memories haunted me for years until my subconscious buried these memories in my head, which would have to removed many years later from my bodies emotional and mental (aura) layers.

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After my radiation session was completed in the morning, where my father had to drive us 60 miles round trip, then after throwing up my guts with dry heaves I would go to the PR department to work video segments about my story.  One interesting thing about this experience was that I had to laugh on the first day of radiation.  Due to after eating milk and cereal at home I threw it all up after radiation.  Receiving radiation was not funny, but what was funny, at least at the time, was realizing one should never eat before therapy because the radiation cooks the milk in your stomach, curdles it, and it comes up green into a trash can.  Maybe this is an odd observation to laugh at, but it was all I had to laugh at to keep me sane.  However, what did keep me sane was going to the PR office each morning after radiation to receive hugs and be with great spirited people.  Despite getting sick each morning I completed the video documentaries.  Next, I was then asked to participate in the hospital’s 100th year celebration event.

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A week before the 100th year celebration at the La Mont restaurant in Pittsburgh, PA with Robin Leech as MC, and Paul Prudhomme and other master chefs attending to prepare a special meal for the event attendees.  Us seven children that represented the hospital selected a dish to prepare a week before the 100th year celebration day dinner.  We all meet at the hospital’s cafeteria special events room and we each prepared our dish.  I made zucchini lasagna – the main dish.  Others made salad, desert, etc.  Once we all made our dishes they were photographed and copied into a 100th year celebration dinner commemorative book for all guests to have on the night of the celebration.  

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The night of the celebration dinner I was to give the keynote speech on behalf of the hospital and children.  I remember standing in front of these blinding media lights as I stood behind a pulpit and microphone.  My dad helped me write a speech a couple days before the event and I read that speech to all of the people at the event.   I was overwhelmed and started to cry as I read because I suddenly remembered all of the crap I had been through.  It all finally hit me mentally and emotionally.  As mentioned, the week before the event we seven children had an opportunity to each cook or prepare a food dish that would be in a commemorative book for the event.  However, as I stood in front of the blinding lights, I thought about one of us seven that had just passed away a couple days ago.  Her name was Amanda.  Standing there in front of those blinding lights I remembered my friend.  Then I thought that it could have been me that died – why am I still here?  In fact, I almost died twice so far, the second time with minutes to spare if my father had not drove me to the Emergency Room in time.  I then thought, what if we would have been delayed driving to the hospital?  I might not be here today?  But I was still alive!  I am standing here now!  No hair, tired, lost a lot of weight, but I was alive!  

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Then a voice came out of no-where from the blinding lights that spoke, “you can do it!”  Then another voice said, “you can do it”, followed by other positive words of encouragement.  My Children’s Hospital PR friend, Sue, came out from the lights and held me and hugged me.  In fact, as I write this now, I am crying because those memories, sights, sounds and smells of the room are still in my subconscious.  Because I had so much love and encouragement that night I continued talking and when the speech was over a joyous cheer exploded with clapping, hugs, and smiles.  I made it through the speech.  We all then had a delicious multicourse dinner where I met Robin Leach and the chefs.  After the event was concluded we children were reunited with our parents and we all went home.    

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There was a girl named Jennifer Rubin that was part of us seven children at the event.  She had some kind of life-threatening illness and she was the same age as me.  I become friends with her and another boy named Matt; however, years later they both passed too and I was still alive getting stronger and stronger.  I survived and was still always asking why me?  

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Since my first surgery, out of nowhere, the words in my head kept coming to me saying I have big things to accomplish and I have to live!  I have to survive!  I cannot quit or give up.

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I did not know this at the time.  However, this was the start of my spiritual awakening to who I truly was.  And furthermore, in April 2025, my new Qi Gong Master told me my brain tumor and what I was going through was part of my transformation to be an awakened being.

I then started in my own way saying affirmations to myself after that first surgery.  I would say I am fine, I am healthy, etc.  At this time, I had no idea what an affirmation was, but I was saying them to myself.  Then another miracle occurred.  Almost 6 months after my shunt was installed, about June 1989, my ventricles opened and healed 100%.  I healed them through my affirmations.  I would visualize my ventricles open and thus it happened.  The doctors were stunned, just as they were stunned when I recovered within 3 days after my first surgery.   I kept proving everyone wrong by living and healing!  This is where my spiritual life took off discovering the greatness in me of who I was.  I look back now to that point in my life where I knew I had a lot more to do, but only today do I see the divine beauty of how those divine life experiences lead me to fully awaken to understand who I am today – a divine integrated multidimensional crystalline being to heal this planet in many ways and on the path to be an ascended master in this lifetime.  I had to grow and these challenges I faced were in place for me to grow to prepare me as a light worker.

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Since the day I was admitted to the hospital, my birthday, December 15th 1988, my father, and I stopped attending church and I stopped attending CCD.  The first Sunday I was in the hospital I remember telling my father we need to go to church.   He replied, “We do not have to go and it was ok.”  However, around April 1989, despite I wore a hat to cover up my head scars we decided to go back to church one Sunday.    

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Although, this was not an ordinary Sunday revisit back to church.  Spiritually, something happened, which again, as I look back to this time of my life, it was part of an increasingly divine guidance and presence to truly awaken me spiritually – not religiously.  Remember, I mentioned after my first surgery I intuitively knew I had to live to do great things.  Furthermore, I knew and was told spiritually that my work is not done – I must live and survive!  

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Well, at the end of church my father and I walked down the church aisle from the front of the church to the back-entrance doors to leave the building.  At the door, as we were to leave, a short man in all black clothes wearing a black hat, approached me.  It appeared he was waiting for me.  He talked to no-one and looked at no-one except me.  No-one else knew him and he was alone.  Over the numerous years my mother, my father and I have been going to this church we never, never, never saw this man.  We were familiar with all of the church regulars.  The man looked at me and approached me.  He blessed me, smiled, and gave me an all-black rosary bead necklace.  The next Sunday we were back in church and looked for this man, but he was nowhere to be found.

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So, I had finished radiation therapy after 45 consecutive days where my father would drive us 60 miles round trip back and forth to the hospital, I would throw up with dry heaves each morning, and do PR work.  However, once the Children’s Hospital video story of my life was completed and the 100th year celebration was over, my father and I had no time to ourselves.  

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It was now about late March 1989.  Though I had completed radiation I was ready to start Chemotherapy for the next 2.5 years.  It was estimated that it would end around Fall 1991.

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At this time, March 1989, I was also starting home schooling, where I was home schooled from 7th grade until the end of 9th grade (Spring 1989 – Spring 1991).  Simultaneously, I now had to have a third surgery to have a Medi port installed into my chest above my heart to administer the chemo.  For these 2.5 years, 13 years old until 15 and a half years old, once a month I had to have this needle inserted into the Medi port above my heart.  I thought the spinal tap was painful, but this was equally painful and not something to look forward to each time I had to go into the hospital for chemotherapy.  First, my dad and nurse had to hold my hands.  I would sing and try to be in a happy place with rainbows, gardens, and parks to displace the pain.  Then the nurse swabbed over the skin above the Medi port clean, then the needle went in and it felt like my heart was being stabbed from the pressure of the needle being inserted into the Medi port itself.  But that was only the first bit of fun, then sometimes a cleaning flush of the Medi port had to be done and I was stabbed twice.  Then the chemical burned like a you know what.  Then the tape went on and I could breathe.  Believe me, the last day or time I ever had to have chemo was a blessed day!  

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Although, despite after chemotherapy was over a couple years later, I now had to have a fourth surgery to remove the Medi port Fall 1991.  But guess what, despite my body was tortured with needle punctures, numerous surgical scars and having countless nightmares over those years – I was still alive and not giving up!  Then another miracle happened.  I cannot remember the exact time frame, but I remember my chemotherapy sessions were stopped before the estimated 2.5 years because one day after an MRI scan there were zero traces of any fragments.  It was like they all disappeared.  

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On the happier side of life, after the Children’s Hospital 100th year celebration event ended I had two final opportunities with Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh.   The first was throwing the first pitch for Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh and Kenner Toys at the Pittsburgh Pirate’s Three Rivers Stadium.  The second was speaking at the Rangos Research Center dedication in Oakland, PA.  However, as one door closed another opened.  The Make-A-Wish (MAW) Foundation was now starting the process for my wish - a computer.   Most children wanted to go to Disneyland, but that only lasted for one week in my thoughts, and I was not into that fantasy land.  I wanted a computer because I started to think about being an engineer.    

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I then began to go to MAW events like Pirate’s baseball games and other events.    Simultaneously, I also applied for a contest to tour the Fort Pitt tunnel in Pittsburgh, PA and won a slot for both my father and I.  The story behind this is the tunnel was to be repaired, and while the tunnel is rectangle as you drive through it, in reality, the tunnel is an arch.  The contest was to win a chance out of 40 people to walk through the tunnel between the top of the rectangle roof and below the arch.  It was dark and dusty.  I wrote my name in the dust, and we had a great time.  Some people may say ok, so what?  But when you live in coal mine areas a tunnel is like a mine.  There is something about being in that closed space.

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Late Spring 1989 I also earned my Eagle Scout at 13 years old.  At the time I was the 2nd youngest to ever earn the award at that age.  I would have been the youngest, but my medical issues delayed me.  I was in the newspapers for my strides to succeed.  However, despite the joys of earning my award I have another side story regarding my relatives again.  Despite not seeing them for years and going through the hospital incident with my uncle and aunt my father invited all of my relatives to my Eagle Scout Ceremony.   Despite the event was joyous for me the event was very awkward with their presence because (1) I was bald from the radiation and chemo therapy and (2) I had nothing in common with them anymore.  After that night though I never saw any of the relatives again, except for my grandfather on my mother’s side, Alex, and my step grandmother Ann.  

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Ann was also on the outs with the family too.  She called us one day on the phone and encouraged us to see my grandfather and thus we did, but we did not see the other relatives (e.g. aunts and uncles) on my mother’s side ever again.  The first time we drove over to their house it was nerve racking.  I remember we drove around their house’s block a couple times and then knocked on their door.  Ann did most of the talking that day, but as we left their house we came back a few more times.

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As mentioned, while so many things were happening simultaneously, I started home schooling for 7th grade and continued home schooling for 8th grade with this nice middle school teacher.   Then, for high school, 9th grade, I continued home schooling, but now with a new high school teacher.  Home schooling lasted until I completed chemotherapy, which I mentioned was ended early, but do not remember when.  During this time period of homeschooling, I would always wear a hat to cover up my bald head and surgery scars.  One day my father had to go to the Pittsburgh court house.  He encouraged me not to wear my hat and I bravely did.  Until upon the time we were sitting in the court room lobby and a little girl and her mother were next to us.  The little girl said to her mother, “mommy, that boy looks weird!” while pointing at me.  I drew so far into myself in misery, put my hat on, and never took it off again.  I wanted to punch the mother and kid out of anger, but all I could do was crawl deeper into myself hiding from the pain.  Building deeper and deeper walls to hide and mask the pain.  My father kept saying I am sorry bud, but it did not help.  I was already in a deeper, deeper place inside myself protecting my heart with wall upon wall.

  

January 9, 2001: I wrote to my Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh social worker in the Dept. of Neurosurgery for any career support in the USAF.  

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The Air Force kept denying me to join and to become an officer.  I then located a foundation named, The Addison Gibson Foundation located in Pittsburgh, PA.   Their mission was to help individuals that had medical barriers to join the work force.  I contacted them and told them my story.  They then funded my final surgery in my life to have the basic shunt placed in my head during January 1989 – to be removed.  Which would allow me to join the Air Force.

 

My former Neurosurgeon since left Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh.  However, he had a successor in the Pittsburgh, PA area.  I met him.  After a couple visits to his doctor’s office my surgery was scheduled.  

 

(Now, around May 1989 I had an MRI scan of my brain.)  I mentioned I was awakening spiritually.  By a miracle – I healed my ventricles and they opened again – thus this was the reason why I could have the shunt removed and it was also declared to not work anymore.  I heard must people with shunts had to have them replaced during their life, but I cured my ventricles and healed them with the POWER OF AFFIMATIONS.  I remember the day I saw my neurosurgeon for a monthly clinic visit.  My neurosurgeon just looked at me and said what did you do?  I said I have been praying and doing affirmations.

 

This experience healing my ventricles myself, and being told I have to live from voices in my head, now opened a new path in my life to not only heal myself, but others.  I then started to get involved learning eastern medicine and acupuncture.  And thus, found an acupuncturist to help repair my hair lost from the radiation therapy that destroyed my hair pores and follicles.)

 

Continuing, on the day of the surgery all went well.  However, while they removed the main glass shunt part.  As they pulled the main shunt part out and from my skull, the plastic tube that went from the glass part to my stomach through my body broke due to the tube material deteriorated over time.

 

This was not a 100% successful surgery; however, it did allow me to reapply to the USAF.  But what was not expected was a mass was found in front of my forehead.  Thus, a second surgery had to be scheduled for the next day to cut my skull open again, but in the front to remove this mass.

 

I gave my permission and was not afraid.  Because I already survived a lot more and this was just another day.  I remember I woke up in the ICU.  However, I did not feel good.  I had weird dreams and then I woke up.  I was taken to my hospital room.  I started to hallucinate. I dreamed that I was a girl and then when I woke up, I am not sure what reality I was in, but then I tried to escape my room.  The next thing I remember is my father was driving me home.

 

I later learned that the new type of medical steroids used for pain treatment caused me to feel sick and to hallucinate.  However, what happened next was my first OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE.

 

Now, I mentioned I started affirmations when I first had my first surgery.  

 

When I arrived home, I went to bed.  I laid on my back with blankets over me because in Pennsylvania it was still cold at night.  I began my routine to energize each of my electrons in each body part.  Then, I remember I felt myself leaving my nose area.   I could not feel my body.  I could not hear or smell or feel anything.  I was in this infinite space of no time and the space was infinite.  I was one with all.  Then as fast as I experienced this I woke up.  

 

I have been trying all my life to reach that state again.  And oddly enough, I now as of April 2025, believe those medial steroids to help relive pain was what helped me to have an Out of body experience.  Which proves that hallucinatic drugs that shamans and other tribal groups use do help with OBE experiences.

 

If you wish to talk about your experiences with an OBE experience please contact me.

 

Compassion, Love and Light,​

Gregory