What Doctors in Tunja Have Seen That Science Can't Explain

Colombia's medical system has produced notable achievements despite decades of conflict. The pioneering work of Dr. José Ignacio Barraquer in refractive eye surgery in Bogotá in the mid-20th century influenced the development of LASIK worldwide. Colombian plastic surgeon Dr. José Guerrerosantos made significant contributions to reconstructive surgery.

Colombia's 1993 healthcare reform created a system recognized internationally for innovation in universal coverage. The Fundación Valle del Lili in Cali and the Fundación Cardioinfantil in Bogotá are among Latin America's top hospitals. Colombia has also been a leader in tropical disease research, with institutions like the National Institute of Health studying malaria, dengue, and Chagas disease.

Colombia's ghost traditions blend Indigenous, African, and Spanish colonial supernatural beliefs into a uniquely vibrant folklore. The 'La Patasola' (One-Legged Woman) is a shape-shifting spirit of the forest who appears as a beautiful woman to lure men into the jungle before revealing her true monstrous form. 'El Mohán' is a hairy, wild man spirit who guards rivers and enchants women. 'La Madremonte' (Mother of the Mountain) is an enormous female spirit who controls weather and punishes those who damage the environment.

Colombian Afro-descendant communities along the Pacific coast maintain spiritual traditions including 'alabados' (funeral chants) and 'gualíes' (celebrations for dead children, who are believed to go directly to heaven). The concept of 'espantos' (frights/haunts) is so culturally embedded that it appears in medical consultations — patients describe illnesses caused by supernatural fright (susto), and traditional healers treat it with herbal baths and prayer.

Colombia's decades of armed conflict have added a layer of tragedy to its ghost traditions. Mass graves, disappeared persons, and violence have created countless 'almas en pena' (souls in torment), and communities hold vigils for the missing that blur the line between political protest and spiritual ceremony.

Colombia's miracle traditions are deeply Catholic. The Santuario de Las Lajas, a Gothic church built into a canyon in Ipiales, Nariño, has been a miracle pilgrimage site since a Marian apparition was reported in 1754. The walls of the canyon are covered with plaques thanking the Virgin for miraculous healings. Colombia's patron saint, Our Lady of Chiquinquirá, has been credited with miraculous interventions since the 16th century. Communities across Colombia maintain shrines and report healing miracles through the intercession of saints and the Virgin Mary.

The Midwest's tradition of keeping things running—tractors, combines, houses, marriages—near Tunja, Boyacá produces patients who approach their own bodies with the same maintenance mindset. They don't seek medical care for optimal health; they seek it to remain functional. The wise Midwest physician meets patients where they are, translating 'optimal' into 'good enough to get back to work,' and building from there.

Small-town doctor culture in the Midwest near Tunja, Boyacá produced a form of medicine that modern healthcare systems are trying to recapture: the physician who knows every patient by name, who makes house calls in snowstorms, who takes payment in chickens when cash is scarce. This wasn't quaint—it was effective. Longitudinal relationships between doctors and patients produce better outcomes than any algorithm.

Medical missionaries from Midwest churches near Tunja, Boyacá have established healthcare infrastructure in some of the world's most underserved communities. These missionaries—physicians, nurses, dentists, and public health workers—carry a faith conviction that their medical skills are divine gifts meant to be shared. Whether this conviction produces better or merely different medicine is debatable, but the facilities they've built are unambiguously saving lives.

German immigrant faith practices near Tunja, Boyacá blended Lutheran piety with folk medicine in ways that persist in Midwest medical culture. The Braucher—a folk healer who combined prayer, herbal remedies, and sympathetic magic—was a fixture of German-American communities well into the 20th century. Modern physicians who serve these communities occasionally encounter patients who've consulted a Braucher before visiting the clinic.

Prohibition-era speakeasies sometimes occupied the same buildings as Midwest medical offices near Tunja, Boyacá, creating a layered history of healing and revelry. Hospital workers in these repurposed buildings report the unmistakable sound of jazz piano at 2 AM, the clink of glasses in empty rooms, and the sweet smell of bootleg whiskey—a festive haunting that provides comic relief in an otherwise somber genre.

The loneliness of the Midwest winter, when snow isolates communities near Tunja, Boyacá for weeks at a time, produces ghost stories born of cabin fever and medical necessity. The physician who snowshoed five miles to deliver a baby in 1887 is said to still make his rounds during blizzards, visible through the curtain of falling snow as a dark figure bent against the wind, bag in hand, answering a call that never ended.

The Brayne, Lovelace, and Fenwick hospice survey, published in the American Journal of Hospice and Palliative Medicine in 2008, is a landmark study in the field of deathbed phenomena research. The researchers surveyed hospice nurses and physicians in the United Kingdom, asking them whether they had witnessed unusual events during patients' deaths. The results were striking: a significant majority of respondents reported having witnessed at least one phenomenon that they could not explain through medical or environmental factors. These phenomena included coincidences in timing, sensory experiences, reported visions by patients, and unexplained emotional states in caregivers. The survey also revealed that many healthcare workers were reluctant to report these experiences due to concerns about professional credibility — a finding that directly parallels the experiences of the physicians in Physicians' Untold Stories. For Tunja residents, the Brayne/Lovelace/Fenwick survey provides crucial context for understanding the book: it demonstrates that the accounts Dr. Kolbaba has gathered are not outliers but representative of a widespread phenomenon within the healthcare profession. The survey's publication in a respected medical journal also underscores the growing willingness of the academic establishment to take these experiences seriously.

The impact of witnessed deathbed phenomena on physician mental health and professional identity is an area of research that is only beginning to receive systematic attention. A 2014 study by Brayne and Fenwick found that healthcare workers who witnessed end-of-life phenomena and lacked support in processing these experiences were more likely to experience distress, while those who had supportive environments were more likely to integrate the experiences into a positive professional identity. This finding has direct implications for medical institutions in Tunja and elsewhere. Hospitals and hospice facilities that create space for healthcare workers to discuss unusual end-of-life experiences — through debriefing sessions, support groups, or simply a culture of openness — are likely to have healthier, more resilient staff. Physicians' Untold Stories serves a similar function at the cultural level, creating a space where physicians can process and share experiences that they might otherwise carry alone. For Tunja's healthcare administrators, the research suggests that acknowledging deathbed phenomena is not merely a matter of intellectual curiosity but a concrete strategy for supporting the well-being of medical staff.

Research on shared death experiences (SDEs) is a relatively young field, with the term coined by Raymond Moody in 2010 and systematically studied by researchers including William Peters, founder of the Shared Crossing Project. In an SDE, a person who is physically healthy and present at or near a death reports sharing some aspect of the dying person's transition — seeing the same light, feeling an out-of-body experience, or perceiving deceased relatives. Peters' research has collected over 800 case reports and identified common elements including a change in room geometry, perceiving a mystical light, music or heavenly sounds, co-experiencing a life review, encountering a border or boundary, and sensing the deceased person's continued awareness. What makes SDEs particularly significant for the scientific study of consciousness is that they occur in healthy individuals with no physiological basis for altered perception, effectively ruling out the neurological explanations typically invoked for near-death experiences. Several physicians in Physicians' Untold Stories report SDEs, and their accounts align closely with Peters' research findings. For Tunja readers, SDEs represent perhaps the most challenging category of evidence for materialist explanations of consciousness, as they suggest that death involves a perceivable transition that can be witnessed by healthy bystanders.