Nigel R NDE as told by Allan R
You don’t know me, but there was a rather dark period in my life where I lost my way spiritually; try as they may, my overly religious family at the time only succeeded in pushing me further away, and I became a conditioned sceptic. But I found my way back over a long, long time, this time as a true believer. Your website played a role, as did the myriad of books I have read by new-age scientists, cosmologists, doctors and the like who share the same beliefs. And as the catalyst, or rather the tiniest of burning embers, the remarkable experience of a close friend when we were only 11 years old.
We grew up in a very rural community in the African bush, with no religious influence to be found for miles around. Heany village was small, but those who lived there were mostly English expats and their families, kids and all, and we had a glorious time and privileged upbringing. My mother was a nursing sister and ran the families clinic in the village, while the military hospital itself was about 5 miles away.
It was around 1969, I remember well because of all the hype and accolades we had heard on the radio with the American astronauts landing on the moon. A few weeks later, my friend Nigel R. and I rode our bicycles to see the footage of this lunar landing at the village cinema, but my friend had flu at the time and was rather poorly, his normal cycling prowess and antics evidently gone. The next day, he was really ill in bed at home, while his sister and my brother Peter were playing Monopoly on the patio. They were tasked to keep an eye on Nigel while Mrs R. went to the shops; needless to say, Nigel was not checked on, and as related to me by my brother, Mrs R arrived home, and within seconds of entering the house, all pandemonium broke out, with screaming for help. Nigel was found in the passage, collapsed and not breathing. My brother, bare-foot and charged with adrenaline, ran the mile to the families clinic to summon help, only to find my Mother out. Fortunately the clinic had a telephone line to the hospital, and the emergency raised. And in the meantime, Mrs R knew a bit on resuscitation, but try as she may, she could not revive Nigel.
15 minutes later, the ambulance arrived my Mother and the doctor poured out, checked for vitals and pronounced Nigel dead. Nevertheless, they bundled the body into the ambulance, administered oxygen, and set off for the provincial general hospital, 20 miles away. As Murphy’s Law dictates, the ambulance broke down a mile past our local general dealers store, run by an Indian chap we knew as Molly. My Mother was one tough lady and champion tennis player at the time, and she ran back to Molly's, losing her shoes on the way while screaming for help like a Banshee-woman. Molly heard the commotion before my Mother arrived, leapt into his white Ford Zephyr and collected my Mom on the run, drove the mile and bundled Nigel in with the oxygen equipment with the doctor, and sped off to Bulawayo General. It must have been a site!
Nigel arrived in casualty an hour later, breathing, and recovered in hospital from his double pneumonia. It must have been 2 weeks later, Nigel and I were up to our usual antics, as if no life-threatening event had occurred. It was the weekend I remember that much, when Nigel coaxed me to take a ride on our bikes to Molly's and buy a coke. On arrival, he bought the cokes, but asked the shop assistant to call Molly to the counter, he wanted to thank Molly for helping save his life. While we waited, Nigel turned to me and said something quite simple yet profound: He said he knew he was dead, he experienced a tremendous WHOOSHING sound, followed by the most beautiful music he had ever heard in his life. Then he woke up in hospital.
At the time, it did not mean much to me. But 40 years later, it is an insightful and wonderful gift that he shared with me. A few years ago, I happened to read an article on someone’s NDE, where this person mentioned the WHOOSH and beautiful music, and I became obsessed. I read every book I could find on the subject, and then out of the blue, my friend Nigel phoned, now living in the UK, I could scarcely believe it, I had not heard from him in 35 years! I asked him straight-out, did he remember the day he died, to which he answered, yes, as if it were yesterday! I told him about your site, I am not sure if he did in fact share his experience.
I live in South Africa, I was born in what was then Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe. Thank you for the kind words, and the tremendous effort you guys put into the website, I am truly inspired by some of the most remarkable experiences. My all-time favourite is Dr Ralph’s (NDE2820), maybe because my Mother was Scots, and I am truly fond of the bagpipes!
You are welcome to relate my friend’s experience Jody, and the gift he shared with me. I neglected to add that in February last year, I contracted Cocksackie B12 virus, the complications of which almost killed me. Yet despite my dire state in hospital, I had no fear, such was my belief, thanks to so many.