I am a 60 year-old combat veteran of the Vietnam War from North Carolina. My story begins in 1999 when I visited a friend in Virginia Beach, VA. My friend is a 70ish-year-old Christian lady who happens to have what is commonly referred to as "psychic" abilities. To those who would argue that a person couldn't be a "Christian" and a "psychic" at the same time, I beg to differ but report my truthful experiences with her herein.
Suffice it to say that my friend can "see" and or "intuit" things that most ordinary people can't. I've known her since 1974 and she's been a good friend over these many years. She is a very goodly and God revering woman who studies the Scripture and prays to our Lord daily. When I visited her in 1999 she advised me, "You have lung cancer and you're going to die." Because she has always been so accurate in the past, I took this advice seriously and immediately reported to the Veteran Affairs Medical Center and asked for a physical examination. I'll never forget when the nurse on duty asked me if I'd ever had an Agent Orange (AO) exam and when I replied that I had not, she scheduled me for one.
The AO physical examination affirmed my friend's prognosis and I was subsequently referred. Physicians performed exploratory/surgical testing and advised me that my cancer was in stage 3B and incurable. They told me, "Go home and get your affairs in order because you're going to die and that there's nothing that anyone can do about it."
Not wanting to accept this dire prognosis I boarded a plane and went for a second opinion. The physicians at told me that the doctors had lied to me about the stage of my cancer. My cancer was actually in stage 3A. There's a big difference in this staging because the National Cancer Institute (NCI) advises that a stage 3A cancer patient may be a candidate for surgery while a stage 3B is not eligible for surgery. However, the physicians advised me that otherwise, their physicians' prognosis was pretty much the same and that in any event I was probably going to die.
Fortunately another friend, who happened to be a social worker, called and told me that he had been in touch with some oncologists/physicians and that they had expressed being amenable to seeing me despite lack of medical insurance.
I boarded the next flight home where the fine medical personnel examined me. The oncologists and social workers found a "clinical trial" that I qualified for and they offered me treatment paid via the auspices of Medicaid. Together with 11 others (who shared the same stage of cancer), I entered a clinical trial. Long story short is that I had a remarkable reaction to the chemotherapy as it all but eliminated the 5.5 cm malignant tumor, which had been growing in my left lung. While the chemo didn't totally and completely eliminate the cancer, it did eliminate enough of it that the surgeons came to me one day and said that they would be willing to perform surgery in an attempt and with the hope of saving my life.
Initially visualizing that he would only have to take but half of my left lung, once he went in there, the head surgeon realized that he would have to take the whole lung, which he did. All went well and I seemed to heal up. Then about a month later the doctors discovered that I had developed a fistula and they would have to go back in and repair it. (A fistula is a hole in the bronchia tube from where the bronchia tube had been severed in the removal of my lung). The good doctor said that he had to advise me that fistulas are the number-one cause of post-surgical mortality following a pneumonectomy. So, a month after undergoing my first pneumonectomy, I had to have another one. This time, however, I died on the operating table. This is when my beautiful albeit incredible and miraculous story really begins.
Lying on the operating table, I awoke following a pneumonectomy. When I opened my eyes and looked across the operating room the first thing I noticed was that the entire surgical team (which consisted of about seven physician/surgeons) was grouped together in a football-like huddle on the far side of the operating room. Listening intently, I could hear one of them talking and the more I listened I realized that they were praying for me.
Then, all of a sudden, one of my prayerful surgical team members turned and looked directly at me. Apparently, he'd noticed that I had my eyes wide-open and was looking back at him because the next thing I remember is that he excitedly shouted out loud, "He's alive." and with that they all broke huddle and came rushing back over to my bedside. They were all very busily checking their medical instruments and at the same time telling me how surprised they were to see me (alive) because I had died and that they'd tried everything they could think of to revive me...all to no avail. Finally abandoning their attempts to revive me, they decided to gather together across the room and pray for my soul.
Now, back at my bedside and for about the next 20 to 30 minutes they systematically went about checking this machine reading and doing whatever doctors do with a patient who's in recovery. Eventually, one by one, they all wandered off to their other choirs. All but one that is...
This one physician stayed by my bedside and eventually looked down at me and said, "You're probably wondering why I'm still standing here." To which I replied, "You want to tell me some more about my dying?" to which he replied, "No, that's not the reason why." So, I asked him, "Well, uh, what's up, doc?" He said, "I've been performing these same surgical procedures for the past twenty-something years and something happened here today that I've never experienced before. It's had such a profound effect on me that I feel that I have to tell you about it." So, I said, "Ok, go ahead." He started, "We had you wide-open and were removing some special kind of fat tissue from your heart to use to tie-up your fistula when all of a sudden you started talking out loud. Surprised, we all jumped back from the table as we initially thought that you had perhaps come out from underneath the anesthesia. But when we checked our instruments, we found that, no, you were still under...still unconscious...so we just stood there and listened while you talked." So I said, "Well, uh, what did I say?" (I had no recall of anything that had happened while this was going on). He replied, "It's not so much what you said as it was to whom you were talking to..." So, I said, "Well, uh, who was I talking to...?" He said, "You were talking to Jesus Christ." When he said this, I just didn't know what to say...I thought, "Gee, that's not very funny, why would this doctor say something like this to me?"
Looking deeply into his eyes, I could tell that he wasn't joking. He was quite serious. He looked somewhat shaken up. So I quietly said, "Well was He talking back to me or was I just hollering out into the void?" He said, "We couldn't hear any other voices but it sounded like you were engaged in a two-way conversation. Then he added, "By the way, I'm going to make sure that this gets into your medical records." With that I thanked him and he went on his way. About 10 days later I was mended up enough to be released from the hospital and I went home.
I would all but forgotten about this event until about a month later when I traveled back to VA to visit my psychic/spiritual friend. When she entered the room she froze on the spot and stared at me with a look of total astonishment and incredulity. She said, "You're all lit up...you've got lights protruding out from all around and over you...you have angels flying all around your head." She crossed the room sideways, never taking her eyes off of me. She had a look of absolute astonishment on her face. She eventually made it to her desk and sat down still intently staring at me. Without saying anything else, just staring, she began to cry. Tears began streaming down her face. I didn't quite know what to think about all this but her behaviors began to affect me.
Then, very quietly she said, "You know that you died last month on the operating table." I said, "Yes, the doctors told me that I did." Then she really rocked my world saying, "Well, did they tell you that you had a face-to-face encounter with Jesus Christ Himself?" I almost fainted. Instead, I managed to reply, "Yes, they did. But they couldn't tell me what He had to say. Do you know what He had to say?" She said, "Yes, I have the whole thing." To which I replied, "Well, you've certainly got my attention. What did He say?" She replied, "I'm going to tell you what He said but first I need to tell you something else first." I said, "Okay, go ahead" She said, "When you came to see me last year and I told you that you had cancer and that you were going to die; that was it. That was your life expectancy. You're not supposed to be here right now. I just wanted you to know that. Now, I'll tell you what happened, what He said and why you're still here." I said, "Please do."
She said, "When you died and you left your body, you screamed out at the top of your voice that you were sorry if you had ever hurt anybody in any way while you were on earth. You screamed it out so loud and with so much emotion and conviction that you startled everybody that was around you at the time. He just happened to be over there and He came over to where you were to see what all the commotion was about." She said, "You jumped in front of Jesus Christ and started talking your head off. You didn't really know who He was. But you just started telling him that you had just gotten out of prison and were undergoing treatment for cancer and that you were now getting a big government VA disability check for exposure to Agent Orange in Vietnam) every month and that you would never have to go back to work again and that you weren't ready to die...that you wanted to go back and have some fun.
You got them all laughing. It was then that He reached over and touched you and instantaneously cured you of your cancer and sent you back to your body. You are now going to live for another 26 years. Do you want to know what you're going to be doing for the next 26 years?" I naturally said, "Yes, tell me." She said, "You are going to spend the rest of your life helping others who have had similar experiences that you've had. You want to know why you're going to be doing that?" I again said, "Yes, why?" She said, "Because that's all you really want to do is to help others. Isn't that wonderful?" She had stopped crying and was now smiling. She said, "You're going to tell a lot of people about what's happened to you but very few are going to believe you. But I believe you because I've seen and heard it with my own eyes and ears. I've been giving these readings to people for the past 40 years and you are the only person that I've ever seen, other than myself, who has ever had a face-to-face encounter with Jesus Christ."
That incident took place in the year 2000. Since then, my cancer metastasized to my neck in 2003 and this elevated my case to stage 4, lung cancer. Once again I attempted to get the needed medical help for my service-connected disease and once again have been refused help. Instead, they refused to offer me surgery because there was simply no chance for a cure. So once again faced with the prospect of dying because of not being treated, I had no alternative other than to return to the fine folks elsewhere and receive the necessary surgery yet again administered via Medicaid.
Immediately following the surgery, however, my surgeon came to me to advise me that he had been unable to remove all of the cancer and that there were still some cancer cells left in my body. Remembering what my psychic friend had told me three years earlier about my living for another 26 years, I simply smiled at the good doctor and thanked him for doing his best. When I had another CT scan a couple of months later, I was cancer free. Not believing their eyes, the doctors have advised me to have CT scans every 90 days since then.
It is now five years later. I am writing these memoirs feeling fine and thanking the Lord for every day that I'm alive. In 2005, I returned to school and obtained a master's of social work in hopes of helping others. My cancer fighting experience has definitely changed my life. While the above story isn't the only instance in which I've noticed the divine influence in my life, it is undoubtedly the most dramatic. As a footnote, I would like to note that of the original 12 participants that were initially entered into the clinical trial in 2000, I am the only one still alive today.
I thank you for taking the time to read my story. I tell someone every day of my experience with Jesus Christ and how He touched me and cured my cancer. I especially like telling my story to other cancer patients as my story seems to impart a sense of hope and faith in those facing death. I like to think that my story gives solace and comfort to others who are told, "You have cancer and you are going to die and there isn't anything that anybody can do about it."
I've now experienced another NDE last year. In May 2007, I had a heart attack. My mother called an ambulance and I was rushed to the hospital. I wasn't getting arterial oxygen and was placed on a BiPAP machine. My bodily functions (heart rate/vitals/etc.) were being watched as I was hooked up to a myriad of monitors. The lights to my hospital room were off but my door was slightly cracked open. I'd been reading a book entitled "A Search for God" and I decided to close my eyes and pray.
When I shut my eyes I noticed a small pinpoint of light (behind my closed eyelids) and decided to focus on it as I prayed. As I began to recite the Lord's Prayer the light began to grow bigger and get brighter. It grew and grew and became brighter and brighter and brighter until my whole head was filled with the light. It had begun as a small little spec but grew so large and bright that I couldn't look at it anymore. It hurt. It was too bright. It was incredibly bright. I opened my eyes and noticed that I was out of breath. I was breathing very hard like I'd been running and was out of breath. I was incredulous, very excited about what I'd just gone through.
A doctor or male nurse stuck his head in my room and I excitedly began to tell him about the light. He then noticed that my BiPAP machine had come off and was lying beside my bed. He asked me how long the BiPAP had been off and I said, "Never mind the BiPAP. You've got to hear about this light. I want to tell you about the light." (That's all I could think about). He said that he would hear about the light later but needed to know how long the BiPAP machine had been off. When I told him that I didn't really know he turned on the lights and called in the other staff (nurses/doctors). None knew anything about how long the BiPAP had been off but they noticed that all of my vitals (on the computer monitors that I was hooked up to) seemed to be in the normal range. In other words, I was breathing normally and getting all the oxygen that a normal person would be getting. In short, I didn't need the BiPAP machine anymore.
In closing, I felt like I'd been in the presence of God and that I was again instantaneously healed. The nurses told me (when I was discharging) that they'd had a bet going on as to whether I'd live or not when I first came to their ward. While I don't think that this can be considered to be a NDE (at least not like the one in which I actually did die back in the year 2000) I was certainly close to death. Before being discharged I was taken into surgery and given a heart stint. They told me that one of my arteries was blocked and that was the reason for my heart attack. In any event, both of my experiences happened in hospitals and both can be verified. My life today isn't anything like it was before I began having these NDE experiences. Thanks for reading my story.