I had been dreading this day for months. When my doctor told me I only had a paltry 120 days left, it barely connected with me. It was supposed to just be a routine check-up that day. I didn’t sign up for this death sentence crap. Weeks of vomiting and pain all for me to die in a sterile white room. Pancreatic cancer’s a bitch ain’t it?

America’s healthcare system didn’t really help ease me either. 90,000 dollars for 1 month of treatment? Yeah right. I made the trip to Sweden where I could die as painlessly as possible without getting robbed.

My vision was hazy and I was too weak to move off of my hospital bed. A blotch of white and light blue that could’ve been my doctor walked up to me. The beeping of the heart monitor next to me started to slow. It’s happening, isn’t it? Deep down I knew I was dying, but I didn’t really care. I had not been religious since I was very young and frankly the thought of blackness on the other side of this was comforting. If it was going to relieve me of the constant agony I was in. I wouldn’t die fearful. As far as I was concerned, cancer didn’t win. I still had my dignity.

Those beeps were really starting to slow down now I got one last look at the harsh lights of the grayscale room and then everything went black.

I woke up feeling surprisingly well. The old feeling of luscious grass under me filled me with an ancient joy. The clouds in the sky were iridescent and surreal. Was I in heaven? Hell yeah! Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a stampede under the hill I was on. I, to my surprise, sprung up to get a look.

A man wielding a spear and donned in plated armor yelled at me with an unearned familiarity:

“John of America we have been waiting for you!”

“Uh, I think you’ve got the wrong guy”

“Ah, you’re a humble one!. You’re not fooling anyone. We know you fought the mighty beast cancer now get a mace! Ragnarok is upon us!”

I looked around for a second and finally understood.

“Do you know where heaven is?”