True Stories From the Hospitals of Quanzhou

China is the birthplace of one of the world's oldest continuous medical traditions. Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), with roots stretching back over 2,500 years, is based on concepts of qi (vital energy), yin-yang balance, and the five elements. The Huangdi Neijing (Yellow Emperor's Classic of Internal Medicine), compiled around the 2nd century BCE, remains a foundational text. Hua Tuo (c. 140-208 CE) is celebrated as the first surgeon to use general anesthesia (mafeisan) during operations, and Li Shizhen's 16th-century Bencao Gangmu (Comperta of Materia Medica) catalogued over 1,800 medicinal substances. Acupuncture, herbal medicine, and practices like qigong and tai chi continue to be widely practiced alongside Western medicine.

Modern Chinese medicine achieved a landmark in 2015 when Tu Youyou won the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for discovering artemisinin, an antimalarial compound derived from the traditional Chinese herb qinghao (sweet wormwood, Artemisia annua). This discovery, which has saved millions of lives, beautifully exemplifies the bridge between ancient herbal knowledge and modern pharmacology. China's healthcare system has undergone massive expansion, with institutions like Peking Union Medical College Hospital (founded 1921 by the Rockefeller Foundation) serving as centers of excellence. China also pioneered variolation — an early form of smallpox inoculation — centuries before Edward Jenner developed vaccination in England.

China's ghost traditions span over three millennia and are deeply embedded in the fabric of Chinese civilization, drawing from Confucian ancestor worship, Taoist cosmology, and Buddhist theology. The Chinese concept of gui (鬼) encompasses a vast taxonomy of spirits, from benevolent ancestral ghosts who protect their descendants to malevolent hungry ghosts (饿鬼, è guǐ) who were denied proper burial or mourning rites. The Hungry Ghost Festival (中元节, Zhōngyuán Jié), observed on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, is one of China's most important supernatural observances. During this period, the gates of the underworld are believed to open, releasing spirits to roam the earth. Families burn joss paper (representing money), paper houses, cars, and even paper smartphones as offerings to ensure their deceased relatives' comfort in the afterlife, while elaborate Taoist and Buddhist ceremonies are performed to appease wandering ghosts.

Perhaps China's most iconic supernatural figure is the jiangshi (僵尸), the "stiff corpse" or hopping vampire, a reanimated cadaver that moves by hopping with outstretched arms. Rooted in Qing Dynasty folklore, jiangshi were said to be created when a person died far from home and a Taoist priest would reanimate the body to "hop" it back for proper burial — a practice possibly inspired by the real tradition of transporting corpses over mountains using bamboo poles, which gave the appearance of hopping. Chinese ghost lore also features the nü gui (女鬼), a female ghost typically dressed in red who died unjustly and returns for vengeance, and the yuan gui (冤鬼), ghosts of those who died from injustice who haunt the living until their grievances are addressed.

The Chinese afterlife is conceived as a vast bureaucratic underworld called Diyu (地狱), presided over by Yanluo Wang (the King of Hell, adapted from the Hindu Yama) and staffed by judges who review the moral record of each soul. This underworld contains multiple courts and levels of punishment, reflecting the Confucian emphasis on moral accountability. The concept of ancestor worship — maintaining tablets, offering food and incense at household altars, and performing ceremonies during Qingming Festival (Tomb Sweeping Day) — remains one of Chinese civilization's most enduring practices, reflecting the belief that the dead continue to influence the fortunes of the living.

China's vast history contains numerous accounts of miraculous healings, many associated with Taoist immortals, Buddhist bodhisattvas, and folk deities. Guanyin (Avalokiteśvara), the Bodhisattva of Compassion, is widely venerated as a healer, and temples dedicated to Guanyin — such as the Putuoshan temple complex in Zhejiang Province — maintain extensive records of attributed miraculous cures spanning centuries. In TCM, the concept of "miraculous" healing is often framed differently than in the West, with practitioners pointing to cases where correct qi alignment produced seemingly impossible recoveries. Modern Chinese hospitals have documented cases of spontaneous remission that combine elements of traditional practice and unexplained phenomena. The qigong movement of the 1980s and 1990s produced numerous claims of extraordinary healing abilities, some investigated by Chinese Academy of Sciences researchers, though many remained controversial.

Amish and Mennonite communities near Quanzhou, Fujian don't typically report hospital ghost stories—their theology doesn't accommodate restless spirits. But physicians who serve these communities note something that might be the inverse of a haunting: an extraordinary stillness in rooms where Amish patients are dying, as if the community's collective faith creates a zone of peace that displaces whatever else might be present.

The Midwest's one-room schoolhouses, many of which were converted to medical clinics before being abandoned, have seeded ghost stories near Quanzhou, Fujian that blend education and medicine. The ghost of the schoolteacher-turned-nurse—a Depression-era figure who taught children by day and dressed wounds by night—appears in rural medical facilities across the heartland, forever multitasking between her two callings.

Research at the University of Iowa near Quanzhou, Fujian into the effects of ketamine and other dissociative anesthetics has revealed pharmacological parallels to NDEs that complicate the 'dying brain' hypothesis. If a drug can produce an experience structurally identical to an NDE in a healthy, living brain, then NDEs may not be products of death at all—they may be products of a neurochemical process that death happens to trigger.

Pediatric cardiologists near Quanzhou, Fujian encounter childhood NDEs with increasing frequency as survival rates for congenital heart defects improve. These children's accounts—simple, unadorned, and free of religious or cultural overlay—provide some of the most compelling NDE data in the literature. A five-year-old who describes meeting a grandmother she never knew, and correctly identifies her from a photograph, presents a research challenge that deserves more than dismissal.

County fairs near Quanzhou, Fujian host health screenings that reach populations who would never visit a doctor's office voluntarily. Between the pig races and the pie-eating contest, fairgoers get their blood pressure checked, their vision tested, and their cholesterol measured. The fair transforms preventive medicine from a clinical obligation into a community event—and the corn dog they eat afterward is part of the healing, too.

The Midwest's tradition of barn raisings—communities gathering to build what no individual could construct alone—finds its medical equivalent near Quanzhou, Fujian in the fundraising dinners, charity auctions, and GoFundMe campaigns that pay for neighbors' medical bills. The Midwest doesn't wait for insurance to cover everything. It passes the hat, fills the plate, and does what needs to be done.

The concept of "moral beauty" in psychological research—the deeply moving emotional response to witnessing exceptional goodness, compassion, or virtue—provides a nuanced framework for understanding the therapeutic impact of "Physicians' Untold Stories." Jonathan Haidt's research on elevation, published in Cognition and Emotion and extended by Sara Algoe and Jonathan Haidt in a 2009 study in the Journal of Social Psychology, demonstrated that witnessing moral beauty produces a distinct emotional state characterized by warmth in the chest, a desire to become a better person, and increased motivation to help others. Elevation is associated with increased oxytocin, vagus nerve activation, and prosocial behavior.

Dr. Kolbaba's accounts in "Physicians' Untold Stories" evoke elevation through multiple channels: the moral beauty of physicians who remain attentive to mystery in a profession that dismisses it, the beauty of dying patients who experience peace and reunion, and the implicit moral beauty of a universe that, the accounts suggest, accompanies the dying with grace rather than abandoning them to oblivion. For grieving readers in Quanzhou, Fujian, the experience of elevation—feeling moved by the moral beauty of these accounts—provides a positive emotional experience that is qualitatively different from the "cheering up" of distraction or entertainment. Elevation is a deep emotion that connects the individual to something larger and better than themselves, and its presence in the grieving process may be a significant facilitator of healing and growth.

The sociology of death and dying in American culture provides essential context for understanding why "Physicians' Untold Stories" meets such a deep need among readers in Quanzhou, Fujian. Philippe Ariès's landmark historical analysis, "The Hour of Our Death" (1981), traced the Western relationship with death from the "tame death" of the medieval period—when dying was a public, communal, and spiritually integrated event—through the "invisible death" of the modern era, in which dying has been sequestered in institutions, managed by professionals, and stripped of its communal and spiritual dimensions. Contemporary sociologists including Tony Walter and Allan Kellehear have extended Ariès's analysis, documenting the "death denial" thesis—the argument that modern Western culture systematically avoids engagement with mortality.

The consequences of death denial are felt acutely by the bereaved: in a culture that cannot speak honestly about death, those who are grieving find themselves without cultural resources for processing their experience. "Physicians' Untold Stories" intervenes in this cultural dynamic by speaking about death with the combined authority of medicine and the vulnerability of personal testimony. Dr. Kolbaba, a physician trained in the evidence-based tradition that has contributed to the medicalization of dying, nevertheless recounts experiences that resist medical explanation—bridging the gap between the institutional management of death and its irreducible mystery. For readers in Quanzhou who live in a death-denying culture but have been forced by personal loss to confront mortality, the book offers what the culture cannot: honest, detailed, physician-observed accounts of what happens at the boundary of life and death, presented without denial but with an openness to the extraordinary.

The phenomenon of 'anticipatory grief' — grief experienced before a death occurs, typically in the context of a terminal diagnosis — affects millions of family members and caregivers. Research published in Death Studies found that anticipatory grief is associated with elevated rates of depression, anxiety, sleep disturbance, and immune suppression. However, the research also found that anticipatory grief can serve a preparatory function — helping family members begin the psychological work of letting go before the actual death occurs. Dr. Kolbaba's book has been recommended by grief counselors as a resource for anticipatory grief, specifically because its physician accounts of deathbed visions, near-death experiences, and signs from the deceased provide a framework for the dying process that can reduce fear and facilitate acceptance. For families in Quanzhou who are walking alongside a dying loved one, the book offers a roadmap for a journey that has no map.

Barbara Fredrickson's broaden-and-build theory of positive emotions offers a theoretical framework for understanding how "Physicians' Untold Stories" might facilitate healing among grieving readers in Quanzhou, Fujian. Fredrickson's research, published in American Psychologist and Review of General Psychology, demonstrates that positive emotions—including joy, gratitude, interest, and awe—broaden the individual's momentary thought-action repertoire, building enduring personal resources including psychological resilience, social connections, and physical health. Negative emotions, by contrast, narrow thought-action repertoires, a process that is adaptive in acute threat situations but maladaptive when chronic.

Grief, particularly complicated grief, is characterized by a sustained narrowing of emotional experience—the bereaved person becomes trapped in a cycle of sorrow, rumination, and withdrawal that restricts their engagement with the world. "Physicians' Untold Stories" intervenes by evoking positive emotions—wonder at the inexplicable, awe at the scope of what physicians witness, hope that death may not be the final word—that broaden the grieving reader's emotional repertoire. For people in Quanzhou caught in the narrowing spiral of grief, Dr. Kolbaba's extraordinary accounts offer moments of emotional expansion that, according to Fredrickson's theory, can initiate an upward spiral of recovery and growth.

The phenomenology of "terminal lucidity"—the unexpected return of mental clarity and energy shortly before death in patients who have been unresponsive or cognitively impaired, sometimes for years—has been documented in the medical literature since the 19th century and has received renewed research attention in the 21st. A 2009 study by Nahm and Greyson, published in the Archives of Gerontology and Geriatrics, reviewed 49 cases spanning two centuries and concluded that terminal lucidity is a real and well-documented phenomenon that challenges current neuroscientific understanding of the relationship between brain function and consciousness.

For families in Quanzhou, Fujian, who have witnessed a loved one with dementia suddenly recognize family members, speak coherently, and express love and farewell in the hours before death, the phenomenon of terminal lucidity is deeply meaningful—but also confusing, because it contradicts everything they were told about the progressive nature of neurological decline. "Physicians' Untold Stories" validates these experiences by presenting physician-witnessed accounts of similar phenomena. Dr. Kolbaba's book tells Quanzhou's families that what they saw was real, that it has been observed by medical professionals, and that its occurrence—however unexplained—is consistent with a growing body of evidence suggesting that consciousness may not be reducible to brain function alone.

The empirical study of near-death experiences (NDEs) has produced a body of peer-reviewed research that provides scientific context for many accounts in "Physicians' Untold Stories." Dr. Pim van Lommel's prospective study, published in The Lancet in 2001, followed 344 cardiac arrest survivors in Dutch hospitals and found that 18 percent reported NDEs—a figure consistent with other prospective studies. Van Lommel's study was notable for its rigorous methodology: patients were interviewed within days of resuscitation using standardized instruments, and follow-up assessments at 2 and 8 years documented lasting life changes among NDE experiencers, including increased empathy, reduced fear of death, and enhanced spiritual sensitivity.

Dr. Sam Parnia's AWARE (AWAreness during REsuscitation) study, published in Resuscitation in 2014, took a different approach: placing hidden visual targets in hospital rooms where cardiac arrests might occur, then testing whether cardiac arrest survivors who reported out-of-body experiences could identify these targets. While the sample of verified out-of-body experiences was too small for definitive conclusions, the study demonstrated that conscious awareness can persist during periods of cardiac arrest when brain function is severely compromised—a finding that challenges materialist models of consciousness. For readers in Quanzhou, Fujian, these studies provide an empirical foundation for the extraordinary accounts in "Physicians' Untold Stories." Dr. Kolbaba's narratives are not isolated stories but data points in a growing body of evidence that the boundary between life and death may be more complex than conventional medicine assumes—evidence that offers the bereaved legitimate grounds for hope.