What Physicians Near Port Said Have Witnessed — And Never Shared

Egypt is the birthplace of organized medicine. The Edwin Smith Papyrus (c. 1600 BCE) is the world's oldest known medical text, describing 48 surgical cases with rational diagnoses and treatments. The Ebers Papyrus (c. 1550 BCE) contains over 700 remedies. Imhotep, who lived around 2650 BCE, is considered the first physician known by name in history — he was later deified as the god of medicine.

Alexandria's medical school, founded in the 3rd century BCE, performed the first systematic human dissections. The tradition continued through the Islamic Golden Age, when Cairo's Bimaristan (hospital) system provided free healthcare to all, including dedicated wards for mental illness. Today, Egypt's Kasr Al-Ainy Hospital, founded in 1837, is one of the Middle East's leading teaching hospitals, and the ancient medical traditions are studied alongside modern practice.

No civilization in history invested more in the afterlife than ancient Egypt. The Egyptian Book of the Dead (properly the 'Book of Coming Forth by Day'), written on papyrus and placed in tombs, served as a guidebook for navigating the afterlife. The ancient Egyptians believed in the ka (life force), ba (personality/soul), and akh (the glorified spirit that joined the gods). Elaborate mummification processes were designed to preserve the body so the ba could return to it.

Modern Egyptian ghost traditions blend ancient beliefs with Islamic and Coptic Christian spirituality. The djinn — supernatural beings created from 'smokeless fire' mentioned in the Quran — are widely believed to inhabit abandoned buildings, desert ruins, and ancient tombs. Tomb workers in the Valley of the Kings report mysterious occurrences, and archaeologists have long noted the 'curse of the pharaohs,' popularized after the death of Lord Carnarvon shortly after opening Tutankhamun's tomb in 1922.

The Pharaonic Village in Cairo recreates ancient funeral processions, and Egyptians today maintain a complex relationship with their pre-Islamic past. The tradition of visiting family graves on feast days — particularly during Eid and Shamm el-Nessim — reflects a continuity of ancestor veneration that stretches back 5,000 years.

Egypt's miracle traditions span multiple faiths. The annual phenomenon at the Cave Church of St. Simon in Mokattam (Cairo) draws thousands seeking healing. The Coptic Christian tradition celebrates numerous miracles attributed to the Holy Family's journey through Egypt and to saints like St. Mark and Pope Kyrillos VI. In 1968, apparitions of the Virgin Mary were reportedly seen by hundreds of thousands at the Church of the Virgin in Zeitoun, Cairo — observed by Muslims, Christians, and atheists alike, and investigated by both the Coptic Patriarchate and Egyptian government. Islamic healing traditions, including visits to the tombs of Sufi saints, remain popular throughout the country.

Midwest medical centers near Port Said, Upper Egypt contribute to cardiac arrest research at rates that reflect the region's disproportionate burden of heart disease. More cardiac arrests mean more resuscitations, and more resuscitations mean more NDE reports. The Midwest's epidemiological profile has inadvertently created one of the richest datasets for NDE research in the country.

The Midwest's medical examiners near Port Said, Upper Egypt contribute to NDE research from an unexpected angle: autopsy findings in patients who reported NDEs before dying of unrelated causes years later. Preliminary observations suggest subtle structural differences in the brains of NDE experiencers—particularly in the temporal lobe and prefrontal cortex—that may predispose certain individuals to the experience or result from it.

The Midwest's one-room hospital—a fixture of prairie medicine near Port Said, Upper Egypt through the mid-20th century—was a place where births, deaths, surgeries, and recoveries all occurred within earshot of each other. This forced intimacy created a healing community within the hospital itself. Patients cheered each other's progress, mourned each other's setbacks, and provided companionship that no modern private room can replicate.

High school sports injuries near Port Said, Upper Egypt create a community investment in healing that extends far beyond the patient. When the starting quarterback tears an ACL, the whole town follows his recovery—from the orthopedic surgeon's office to the physical therapy clinic to the first practice back. This communal attention isn't pressure; it's support. The Midwest heals its athletes the way it raises its barns: together.

Prairie church culture near Port Said, Upper Egypt has always linked spiritual and physical wellbeing in practical ways. The church that organized the first community health fair, the pastor who drove patients to distant hospitals, the women's auxiliary that funded the town's first ambulance—these aren't religious activities separate from medicine. They're medicine practiced through the only institution with the reach and trust to organize rural healthcare.

The Midwest's tradition of pastoral care visits near Port Said, Upper Egypt—the pastor who appears at the hospital within an hour of learning that a congregant has been admitted—creates a spiritual rapid response system that parallels the medical one. The patient who wakes from anesthesia to find their pastor praying at the bedside receives a message more powerful than any medication: you are not alone, and your community has not forgotten you.

The implications of deathbed phenomena for the mind-body problem — the central question of philosophy of mind — are explored with increasing rigor in academic philosophy. David Chalmers' formulation of the "hard problem of consciousness" (1995) asks why and how physical processes in the brain give rise to subjective experience, and the phenomena documented in Physicians' Untold Stories sharpen this question considerably. If terminal lucidity demonstrates that subjective experience can occur in the absence of the neural substrates that are supposed to produce it, then the relationship between brain and consciousness may be fundamentally different from what the materialist paradigm assumes. Philosopher Thomas Nagel's Mind and Cosmos (2012) argues that materialist reductionism is insufficient to explain consciousness, and the deathbed data provides empirical support for his philosophical argument. For Port Said readers with philosophical inclinations, the intersection of deathbed phenomena research and philosophy of mind represents a frontier of intellectual inquiry that has the potential to reshape our understanding of what it means to be conscious — and by extension, what it means to be human.

The concept of crisis apparitions — appearances of individuals at or near the time of their death, perceived by people at a distance — has been a subject of systematic investigation since the SPR's founding. Phantasms of the Living (1886), authored by Edmund Gurney, Frederic Myers, and Frank Podmore, presented 701 cases of crisis apparitions, each independently verified. Modern researchers have continued to document these phenomena, and they feature prominently in Physicians' Untold Stories. What distinguishes crisis apparitions from other forms of apparitional experience is their temporal specificity: the apparition appears at or very near the moment of the person's death, before the perceiver has been informed of the death through normal channels. This temporal correlation creates a significant evidentiary challenge for skeptics, who must explain how a perceiver could "hallucinate" a person at the precise moment of that person's death without any sensory input indicating that the death occurred. Dr. Kolbaba's physician contributors report several crisis apparitions, and in each case, the temporal correlation was verified through medical records and death certificates. For Port Said readers who value evidence, these verified temporal correlations represent some of the strongest data in the book.

Research on post-mortem communication — defined as experiences in which the living perceive meaningful contact with the deceased — has expanded significantly in recent decades, with studies by Jenny Streit-Horn (2011) suggesting that between 30% and 60% of bereaved individuals report some form of post-death contact. These experiences include sensing the presence of the deceased, hearing their voice, seeing their apparition, smelling fragrances associated with them, and receiving meaningful signs. Physicians are not immune to these experiences; several accounts in Physicians' Untold Stories describe physicians who perceived contact with deceased patients after the patients' deaths. These physician experiences are particularly noteworthy because they occur in individuals who are trained to be skeptical of subjective perception and who have no emotional investment in the belief that the deceased can communicate. For Port Said readers who have experienced their own forms of post-mortem communication — a phenomenon far more common than most people realize — the physician accounts in Dr. Kolbaba's book provide validation from an unexpected and highly credible source.

Spontaneous remission from cancer is estimated to occur at a rate of approximately one in every 60,000 to 100,000 cases, according to published medical literature. While this rate is extremely low, it is not zero — and given the number of cancer diagnoses made each year worldwide, it translates to hundreds or even thousands of unexplained remissions annually. Yet these cases are almost never studied systematically. They are published as individual case reports, filed in medical records, and largely forgotten.

Dr. Scott Kolbaba argues in "Physicians' Untold Stories" that this neglect represents a failure of scientific curiosity. If a pharmaceutical drug cured cancer at even a fraction of the spontaneous remission rate, it would generate billions in research funding. Yet the spontaneous remissions themselves — which might reveal natural healing mechanisms of immense therapeutic potential — receive almost no research attention. For the medical community in Port Said, Upper Egypt, Kolbaba's book is a call to redirect that attention toward the phenomena that might teach us the most about healing.

The families of patients who experience miraculous recoveries face a unique set of challenges. While the recovery itself is cause for celebration, the experience often leaves families struggling to integrate what happened into their understanding of medicine, faith, and the world. Parents who were told their child would die must suddenly readjust to a future they had given up on. Spouses who had begun grieving must navigate the emotional whiplash of unexpected reprieve.

Dr. Kolbaba's "Physicians' Untold Stories" acknowledges this dimension of miraculous recovery with sensitivity and compassion. The book includes reflections from physicians who observed not just the medical facts but the human aftermath — the tears, the disbelief, the searching questions about meaning and purpose that follow an inexplicable cure. For families in Port Said, Upper Egypt who have experienced or witnessed such events, the book offers validation and company on a journey that few others can understand.

The role of intercessory prayer in healing has been examined in over 17 randomized controlled trials, with mixed but intriguing results. The most frequently cited positive study, by Dr. Randolph Byrd at San Francisco General Hospital (1988, published in Southern Medical Journal), randomized 393 coronary care unit patients to intercessory prayer or no intervention and found that the prayer group had significantly fewer complications, required fewer antibiotics, and experienced fewer episodes of congestive heart failure. While subsequent studies have produced contradictory results — including the large STEP trial (2006, American Heart Journal) that found no benefit — the persistence of small but positive effects across multiple trials suggests that the question is not settled. For researchers and clinicians in Port Said, the prayer literature serves as a reminder that healing may involve variables that our current research methodologies are not designed to capture.