I wrote a short story about a personal near-death experience in a creative writing class I took a few years ago. Here's what I went through:

After riding on a few lesser than extreme rides (at the Mall of America), we decided to give a hardcore ride a try, The Mighty Axe. Little did I know that I would be inches from death once I got on it. The Mighty Axe was one of those rides that spun like a propeller around and around, and the platform that held the people would flip upside down and hold you there for a couple seconds. It would do this five or six times before the ride ended. It should be noted that it was about 80-90 feet tall. People wouldn’t fall out because a bar would lower over their shoulders to hold them in place. Me, my brother, my cousins and my dad (the adult that had to monitor the kids) stepped onto the ride and took our seats. After a few moments, the bar lowered over our shoulders. I was concerned that my shoulders were too thin for the bar to hold me in place once we were upside down, but I figured I could hold on hard enough to keep me in. I should have said something, but my pre-teen ego told me to suck it up. It spun around for a minute without going upside down, but when it finally did, I knew something was wrong. Now, before I get into this next part, it should be said that I have muscular dystrophy, a disease that significantly weakens muscles over time. I was still able to walk at this point, but I was still significantly weaker than most kids my age. Back to the story. When the ride turned upside-down, I realized I was too weak to hold myself in. I tried as hard as I could, but gravity began to pull me out of my seat. I began to panic, thinking that this was the end. I didn’t know what to do, the ride was still upside down, I was struggling too hard to call out for help. I was about five seconds from dropping from my seat, with my life flashing before my eyes. But then, as if alerted by ancient paternal instincts, my Dad who was seated next to me crammed his arm over my waist, and stopped me from having to get mopped off of the floor. The ride was far from over though, and for almost five more minutes, my dad had to fight to keep me alive every time the ride turned upside-down. We called for the operator to stop the ride, but he was too busy contemplating his own suicide to hear us. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, the ride ended, with me still in the seat, and both my father and I sweating profusely. If it weren’t for my dad, I would have certainly died that day.