They say there are no atheists in foxholes. Now I know the same is true for the ICU, after what I went through. One day, like any other, I'm sitting in my bedroom, and the situation is normal. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in an ICU, attached to a ventilator. Sounds terrifying, except there is a nurse by my side. She's holding my hand. She tells me everything is going to be okay. And I believe her, because she means it. She gently explains what happened. I had a seizure. Many seizures. I've been sedated for 7 days. She's still holding my hand. She tells me the date. In a case of cosmic irony, 43 years ago, to the day, I was born. She tells me, "Happy Birthday." And she means it. Because she's right. I'm alive. This is a birthday I will never forget. Thanks to a nurse I just met. Who I, likewise, will never forget. On loan from heaven, I'm convinced. She held my hand for an hour at least. She read my favorite book to me, absolutely positively and enthusiastically. She found a doughnut with sprinkles to stand in for a birthday cake. She got my family on FaceTime for the happiest reunion in family history. I cried, and she cried with me. Everything is going to be okay. I've read about ICU Delirium, ICU PTSD. Absolute tragedy. Because my memories are completely the opposite. Everything is going to be okay. Thanks to a nurse who I know does not get the credit she deserves. Because sometimes, there are no words. Thank you Karina. You will always be my hero.