The Dead's Perspective

I jolt awake. My eyes squint at the sudden brightness of the lights. I lifted my hand up but strangely, I couldn't block it out. It was as if the light was seeping through my hand.
"We're losing him! Quickly!" He yells while examining me, putting both his hands on my chest, and begins doing CPR. Wait. On my chest? I'm the patient? I'm dying? I'm dying! Amid my panic, I noticed that I couldn't feel the man applying any kind of pressure on me but I could feel his hands through my chest. If I'm the patient then shouldn't I be under anesthesia? That means I should be asleep but I can see him. And if I can see him that means he could see me.
"Clear!" They yell as they push the defibrillator into my chest. They do this a couple of times before stopping. The room became still. Only the sound of a flat vital sign filled the silence. I'm dead?

I made this short story for my Reading & Writing class. Pardon me for any mistakes. Since it is a short story, there is only going to be one part. Hope you'd give it a read. <3