Jakusui: I heard you had a near-death experience as a child, Priest Danjo.

Priest Danjo: Yes. From age six, I was in a vegetative state for a year. Back then, my family was consisted of grandparents, parents, and three children. My grandfather, Matsu Goro, served as an imperial guard in his youth, protecting Emperor Meiji and Emperor Taisho.

We had several photos of him taken at the Imperial Palace, and he looked incredibly dashing. While serving in the Imperial Guard, he apparently learned Tokyo-style cooking. He would catch pufferfish to cook for us his grandchildren, wanting us to taste fish from the Seto Inland Sea. The “small pufferfish” were only about the length of an index finger. He would cut them into tiny pieces and put them in miso soup. It's rare, but eating pufferfish liver can cause poisoning. We were three siblings: an older brother and a younger sister, but for some reason, I was the only one who got poisoned by the pufferfish.

All my nerves completely shut down. I remember thinking, “I'm so sleepy,” and then I just drifted off into sleep. I heard later that I collapsed and was carried straight to the hospital.

I received treatment like IV drips, but apparently I never regained consciousness. When they drained the spinal fluid from my spine, it was already milky white and murky. They said if a car accident victim's spinal fluid turns milky white, there's no hope. According to the doctor at the time, my condition was so critical that only one in a million people would survive. My life was in grave danger.

I remained in a state of deep sleep. My heart was still beating, but of course, I couldn't move my limbs, walk, or speak.

Jakusui: Were you conscious?

Priest Danjo: I was conscious, but looking back now, it was what people call a “near-death experience.” I don't know if you'll believe this, but it was like another version of myself was watching me lying in the bed from above.

At the time, I had no knowledge of near-death experiences or anything like that, but I distinctly remember thinking, “Why am I watching myself?” I'd pull on the sleeve of my mother's kimono as she entered the hospital room, saying, “Here, here!” but she never noticed it at all.

She'd leave the room looking kind of lonely and troubled. I'd think, “Ah, she's gone again.” That happened over and over. I knew myself lying in bed was me. Of course, I couldn't speak, but I could see the doctors and nurses coming in.

This vegetative state lasted for a year. For the first six months, I received Western medical treatment, constantly hooked up to IV drips. Being a six-year-old child, my veins were too small. Eventually, the doctors said, “He hasn't regained consciousness, and we can't do any more treatment. Please take him home and do what you can do.” My mother brought me home in tears, but we had no proper treatment environment at home.

She searched everywhere, it seems. Then she placed me in a hospital near her family home. There was a doctor of Eastern medicine there who knew an ancient treatment method for pufferfish poisoning. Even after moving to that hospital, I remained in a “near-death state” for some time. Even now, the memory remains vivid: the wooden building, the hospital room with white curtains, a table placed inside.

About two or three days after transferring hospitals, I hadn't regained consciousness at all, but I had a sense of hearing my mother come, talking with the nurse about various things. The doctor apparently tried every treatment method available at the time. They buried my body in the ground several times to draw out toxins, and also used traditional Chinese medicine.

One morning, after about six months of treatment at that hospital, a nurse entered my room and said, “Ken-chan, morning has come,” opening the curtains. A bright white light suddenly shone down on me as I lay there. In that instant, my entire body glowed white, and I felt something enter me. That thing filled my body with a whoosh, and I woke up. Not hazily, but instantly and clearly. “Huh? I can see!” I called out to my mother, who had entered. She was crying tears of joy, saying, “Oh! You're back to normal!”

 

Jakusui: You persevered for a whole year, didn’t you?

Priest Danjo: Yes. I didn't feel like I was trying hard myself, but I think it was, thanks to the compassionate heart of the Eastern medicine doctor, he was determined to heal me no matter what. I didn't feel fear of death either, but that mysterious near-death experience remains vividly real within me even now.