True Stories From the Hospitals of Ruteng

Indonesia's medical traditions reflect its extraordinary cultural diversity. The Javanese tradition of jamu — herbal medicine preparations using indigenous plants, roots, and spices — has been practiced for over a millennium, with recipes passed down through generations and depicted in bas-reliefs at the 9th-century Borobudur temple. Jamu remains widely consumed throughout Indonesia today, with industrial production and traditional mbok jamu (women who sell fresh jamu from baskets) coexisting. Each region of the archipelago has its own healing traditions: Balinese medicine (usada) is based on the Lontar Usada manuscripts, combining herbalism with spiritual healing, while Dayak communities in Borneo maintain extensive knowledge of rainforest medicinal plants.

Modern Indonesian medicine traces its institutional beginnings to the colonial era, when the Dutch established the STOVIA medical school in 1851 (now the Faculty of Medicine, University of Indonesia). Dr. Sutomo, an early graduate, co-founded the nationalist movement Budi Utomo in 1908, illustrating the role physicians played in Indonesian independence. Today, Indonesia faces the challenge of providing healthcare across a vast archipelago — from advanced facilities like Cipto Mangunkusumo Hospital in Jakarta to remote island clinics. The country has made significant progress in disease control, including virtual elimination of polio and substantial reduction in maternal mortality, while Indonesian researchers have contributed notably to tropical disease research.

Indonesia, the world's largest archipelago nation spanning over 17,000 islands with hundreds of ethnic groups, possesses one of the most diverse and rich ghost traditions on earth. The dominant supernatural figure across much of the archipelago is the kuntilanak (also known as pontianak in Malay), the ghost of a woman who died during childbirth. Described as a beautiful woman in a white dress with long black hair who transforms into a terrifying specter, the kuntilanak is said to announce her presence through a sweet floral fragrance followed by a horrible stench, and her distinctive high-pitched laugh grows softer as she draws closer. Javanese tradition contributes the rich mystical concept of kejawen, a syncretic spiritual philosophy blending indigenous animism, Hindu-Buddhist elements, and Islamic Sufism, which holds that the unseen world (alam gaib) coexists with and influences the material world at every moment.

Indonesian supernatural beings vary dramatically across the archipelago's many cultures. The tuyul is a childlike spirit kept by practitioners of black magic (ilmu hitam) to steal money and valuables — many Indonesians genuinely believe that sudden, unexplained wealth may be attributed to tuyul-keeping. The pocong, a ghost wrapped in its burial shroud (kafan) who hops because its legs are bound, is unique to Muslim Indonesian culture and is said to appear when the ties of the burial shroud are not properly released after burial. The leak (leyak) in Balinese tradition is a powerful witch who can detach her head and organs to fly about at night, similar to the Thai phi krasue. In Sundanese culture of West Java, the jurig (ghost) traditions include elaborate classifications of water spirits, forest spirits, and household spirits.

The persistence of ghost beliefs in Indonesia — the world's most populous Muslim-majority country — demonstrates how pre-Islamic animistic and Hindu-Buddhist supernatural traditions have been absorbed into Indonesian Islamic practice rather than displaced by it. Many Indonesians, regardless of religious affiliation, maintain practices like slametan (communal feasts to mark life events and appease spirits), consult dukun (traditional spiritual practitioners) for healing and protection, and observe specific taboos related to supernatural beings. The Indonesian film industry's massive horror genre, producing dozens of ghost films annually, draws directly from these living traditions.

Indonesia's diverse religious landscape produces miracle claims across multiple faith traditions. Islamic healing traditions are practiced throughout the country, with pilgrimages to sacred graves (ziarah) of Islamic saints (wali songo) — particularly the nine saints credited with bringing Islam to Java — considered sources of healing blessings (berkah). Pentecostal and charismatic churches, which have grown dramatically in Indonesia, regularly report healing miracles. In Bali, traditional healers (balian) perform spiritual healing ceremonies that combine herbal medicine, prayer, and ritual, and documented cases of remarkable recoveries following these interventions are part of Balinese oral tradition. Indonesian traditional medicine includes the practice of visiting dukun healers who combine herbal remedies with spiritual interventions, and many Indonesian physicians acknowledge that some patient recoveries following traditional healing practices defy straightforward medical explanation.

Amish and Mennonite communities near Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara 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 Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara 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 Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara 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 Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara 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 Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara 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 Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara 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 relationship between grief and physical health has been extensively documented. The 'widowhood effect' — the elevated risk of death in the months following the death of a spouse — has been confirmed in multiple large-scale studies, with a meta-analysis in PLOS ONE finding a 23% increased risk of mortality in the first six months of bereavement. The mechanisms are multifactorial: disrupted sleep, impaired immune function, cardiovascular stress, reduced nutrition, and the loss of social support all contribute. For bereaved individuals in Ruteng, Dr. Kolbaba's book addresses the grief that drives these physiological cascades by providing a source of comfort that, while not a substitute for medical care, may reduce the psychological burden of bereavement and thereby mitigate its physiological consequences.

The grief experienced by healthcare workers—sometimes called "professional grief" or "clinical grief"—has been studied with increasing urgency as the healthcare burnout crisis deepens. Research published in the British Medical Journal, Academic Medicine, and the Journal of Palliative Medicine has documented that repeated exposure to patient death, without adequate processing, contributes to emotional exhaustion, depersonalization, and reduced professional efficacy—the three components of burnout as defined by Maslach and Jackson. Physicians' Untold Stories provides a grief-processing resource for healthcare workers in Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara, that addresses the specific features of professional grief.

Unlike family grief, professional grief is typically disenfranchised (not socially recognized), cumulative (each new death adds to the total), and role-conflicted (the professional must continue functioning clinically while grieving). The physician accounts in Dr. Kolbaba's collection address all three of these features: they validate professional grief by showing that other physicians grieve deeply for patients; they provide a narrative framework (death as transition) that can prevent cumulative grief from hardening into cynicism; and they demonstrate that acknowledging grief is compatible with, and even enhances, professional competence. For healthcare workers in Ruteng, the book is not just reading—it is occupational self-care.

The concept of 'meaning reconstruction' in grief — the process by which bereaved individuals rebuild their understanding of the world to accommodate the reality of the loss — has been identified as a central task of bereavement by grief researcher Robert Neimeyer. Published in Death Studies, Neimeyer's research found that the bereaved individuals who adjusted most successfully were those who were able to construct a meaningful narrative about their loss — a narrative that preserved their sense of the world as coherent, purposeful, and benign. Dr. Kolbaba's book provides raw material for meaning reconstruction by offering physician-witnessed evidence of phenomena — deathbed visions, near-death experiences, post-mortem signs — that can be integrated into a narrative of death as transition rather than termination. For grieving individuals in Ruteng, the book is not just a source of comfort but a tool for the active, constructive work of rebuilding meaning after loss.

Our Grief Stage Identifier tool can help you understand where you are in the grieving process. Whether you are in denial, anger, bargaining, depression, or moving toward acceptance, understanding your stage can help you be gentle with yourself — and know that healing is possible.

The stage model of grief, originally proposed by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, has been both influential and controversial. Modern grief research emphasizes that grief is not a linear process — that bereaved individuals may cycle through stages, experience multiple stages simultaneously, or follow a grief trajectory that does not match the model at all. For residents of Ruteng who are grieving, the most important takeaway is not which stage you are in but the recognition that grief is a process with a direction — that the acute, overwhelming pain of early loss does eventually transform, through time and support, into something more manageable, if never fully resolved.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—have shaped our cultural understanding of bereavement for over half a century. David Kessler, who worked closely with Kübler-Ross in her final years, has argued for a sixth stage: finding meaning. In Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara, Physicians' Untold Stories provides a uniquely powerful catalyst for reaching this sixth stage. The physician accounts in Dr. Kolbaba's collection offer meaning not through philosophical argument but through direct testimony: medical professionals describing transcendent experiences at the boundary of life and death that suggest the deceased have transitioned to something beyond.

Kessler's concept of "finding meaning" is not about finding a reason for the loss—it's about finding a way to honor the loss by integrating it into a life that continues to grow. For readers in Ruteng, the physician accounts in this book provide rich material for this integration. A widow who reads about a physician witnessing a dying patient reach toward their deceased spouse isn't finding a reason for her husband's death; she's finding a framework that allows her to continue living while maintaining a sense of connection to the person she lost. This is the sixth stage at work—and it's what makes the book so valuable for the bereaved.

The growing "death positive" movement—championed by Caitlin Doughty (author of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes"), the Order of the Good Death, and organizations promoting death literacy—has created cultural space for more honest, open engagement with mortality. Physicians' Untold Stories aligns with and extends this movement for readers in Ruteng, Bali & Nusa Tenggara, by providing medical testimony that enriches the death-positive conversation. The book doesn't just advocate for accepting death; it suggests that accepting death might include accepting the possibility of transcendence—a position that goes beyond mere acceptance into the territory of wonder.

The death positive movement has been critiqued for sometimes treating death too casually—reducing it to a conversation piece or an aesthetic rather than engaging with its full emotional and spiritual weight. Physicians' Untold Stories avoids this critique because its accounts come from physicians who were emotionally devastated by what they witnessed—professionals for whom death was never casual but was sometimes transcendent. For death-positive communities in Ruteng, the book provides depth and gravitas that complement the movement's emphasis on openness and acceptance.