https://www.democraticunderground.com/1285663Oh my.
left-of-center2012 (12,340 posts) Tue Jul 10, 2018, 09:37 AM
Near death, seeing dead people may be neither rare nor eerie
Beth Roncevich's father was in his last few days of life, lying in bed in his Indiana Township home with her and her mother somberly by his side.
Though his eyes were closed while terminally ill from lung disease on that day four years ago, laughter unexpectedly emerged from Albin Langus.
"I said 'Dad, what are you laughing at?' He said, 'Oh, we're all together.' "
The bewildered Roncevich and her mother wondered who and what he was seeing. He was even giggling.
"He said, 'Everybody's together and we're all just having a wonderful time. We're having so much fun' ... and those were the last words he spoke," she recounted last week between her visits to patients of UPMC Family Hospice and Palliative Care. "I said to my mom, 'What more could we ask for than that?' Wherever he was going, he was in a good place and happy."
Her father's sense of a final party with whoever it was — she's still not sure who — occurred shortly before Roncevich became a hospice nurse. In that field, she's become accustomed to hearing of such positive encounters from her patients — or from their relatives who describe what the patients told them.
"It's always a calming experience. I have never come across an experience that it was scary," said Roncevich, 48. "Another thing they experience is that, even in an unconscious state, their arms will lift up as though taking someone's else's hand, and their mouths will move as though speaking to someone."
Full story:
https://www.indianagazette.com/news/near-death-seeing-dead-people-may-be-neither-rare-nor/article_611eedbf-2ce6-5af7-bea9-a7887c478bf7.html
Eyeball_Kid (2,756 posts) Tue Jul 10, 2018, 09:58 AM
1. Morphine.
left-of-center2012 (12,340 posts) Tue Jul 10, 2018, 10:50 AM
2. I worked hospice
Some saw and heard "dead people".
None of my patients were on narcotics.
radical noodle (5,157 posts) Wed Jul 11, 2018, 02:57 AM
3. My dad had visits from his long-dead brother
right before he died. No morphine.
Since going into hospice on Christmas Eve of last year, there's been three times I've communed with the dead. But because it's all rather hazy, it could've been my imagination or a dream. It was the same situation in all three instances:
So I died and walked over to keep my appointment with God, but my way was blocked by hordes and crowds and throngs of people, mostly males, sharing the same racial background as the MrsCorpio primitive. Nobody blocked me or interfered with my proceeding among them, but nearly all of them were trying to touch me, jostle me, to get my attention.
They persistently asked me, "What's up with Lamond? What's up with brother Lamond?
"How come brother Lamond talks about only black people being killed by white bullets, and never says anything about the lot more of us, tons more of us, who are killed by black bullets?
"What are we? He never talks about
us. Are we chopped liver to him, or what?"
I then have to mournfully illuminate them I have no idea what's up with the MrsCorpio primitive, why he doesn't care about them.