Nigel R NDE as told by Allan R

Experience Description

You don’t know me, but there was a rather dark period in my life where I lost my way spiritually. Try as they did, my overly religious family at the time only succeeded in pushing me further away. I became a conditioned skeptic. 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 eleven 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. We had a glorious time and privileged upbringing. My mother was a nursing sister and ran the family clinic in the village, while the military hospital itself was about five 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. My friend had flu at the time and was in rather poor straights. His normal cycling prowess and antics were 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. Nigel was not checked on. As related to me by my brother, Mrs. R arrived home. Within seconds of entering the house, all pandemonium broke out. She was screaming for help. Nigel was found in the hall, collapsed and not breathing. My brother, bare-foot, and charged with adrenaline, ran the mile to the family clinic to summon help, only to find my mother out. Fortunately, the clinic had a telephone line to the hospital, and the emergency was raised. In the meantime, Mrs. R knew a bit of resuscitation, but try as she may, she could not revive Nigel.

Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived and 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, twenty miles away. As Murphy’s Law dictates, the ambulance broke down a mile past our local general dealer's 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. He leapt into his white Ford Zephyr and collected my Mom on the run. They drove the mile and bundled Nigel in with the oxygen equipment and the doctor, and sped off to the hospital. It must have been a site!

Nigel arrived in casualty an hour later, breathing, and recovered in the hospital from his double pneumonia. It must have been two weeks later that 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 the hospital.

At the time, it did not mean much to me. But forty 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 near death experience, 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 United Kingdom. I could scarcely believe it! I had not heard from him in thirty five years! I asked him straight-out, if he remembered 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.

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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 favorite is Dr. Ralph’s (NDE2820), maybe because my mother was Scottish, 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 the hospital, I had no fear. Such was my belief, thanks to so many.