Between Life and Death: Physician Accounts Near Hwaseong
In Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan, where families gather around hospital beds and clasp hands in waiting rooms, the question of what lies beyond death is never merely academic. It is immediate, urgent, and deeply personal. Physicians' Untold Stories by Dr. Scott Kolbaba speaks directly to that urgency. The book presents firsthand accounts from physicians who have witnessed phenomena that suggest death may not be an ending but a transition. These are not abstract theological arguments; they are concrete, specific experiences reported by trained observers. A patient describing a beautiful garden visible only to her. A physician hearing a deceased colleague's voice offering comfort during a difficult case. For Hwaseong families navigating loss, these stories are a hand extended in the darkness.
Ghost Traditions and Supernatural Beliefs in South Korea
South Korea's ghost traditions are rooted in centuries of shamanic practice (mugyo/musok), Confucian ancestor veneration, and Buddhist spiritual beliefs. The gwisin (ê·€ì‹ ) — Korean ghosts — are typically portrayed as female spirits with long black hair and white burial garments, an image popularized globally by Korean horror cinema. The most feared type is the cheonyeo gwisin — the ghost of a virgin woman who died unmarried, condemned to wander because she never fulfilled her Confucian duty of marriage and motherhood.
Korean shamanism, practiced by mudang (무당, shamans, predominantly women), is one of the world's oldest surviving shamanic traditions. Gut (굿) ceremonies involve elaborate rituals where the mudang communicates with spirits of the dead, wearing colorful costumes and performing acrobatic feats while possessed by spirits. Despite modernization, an estimated 300,000 practicing shamans operate in South Korea today, and shamanic rituals are regularly performed before major construction projects, business openings, and even K-pop debuts.
The annual Chuseok harvest festival (Korean Thanksgiving) includes charye ceremonies to honor ancestors, and the concept of han (한) — a deep, collective feeling of sorrow and resentment — is central to Korean ghost stories, where spirits with unresolved han cannot rest.
Near-Death Experience Research in South Korea
Korean NDE research is shaped by the country's unique spiritual landscape — a blend of shamanism, Buddhism, Confucianism, and Christianity (about 30% of Koreans are Christian). Korean NDE accounts often feature encounters with yamaras (beings who judge the dead, from Buddhist tradition) or deceased ancestors who deliver messages about family obligations. The Korea Association for Near-Death Studies promotes research and support for NDE experiencers. Korean Buddhist scholars at Dongguk University have explored parallels between NDE accounts and Buddhist descriptions of the bardo — the intermediate state between death and rebirth. The popularity of Korean horror films and dramas dealing with ghosts and afterlife has made NDE concepts widely known in Korean popular culture.
Medical Fact
The Death Cafe movement, started in 2011, encourages open discussions about death — healthcare workers often share unexplained experiences at these gatherings.
Miraculous Accounts and Divine Intervention in South Korea
South Korea's large Christian population (particularly Protestant and Catholic communities) reports miracle healing cases regularly. The Catholic Diocese of Seoul has investigated multiple healing miracles, and Korean Protestant megachurches — some of the world's largest — report faith healing experiences. The canonization of 124 Korean martyrs by Pope Francis in 2014 involved investigation of miracles attributed to their intercession. Traditional Korean healing practices, including sasang constitutional medicine and herbal remedies, have been the subject of clinical studies at Korean medical universities.
The History of Grief, Loss & Finding Peace in Medicine
Midwest winters near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan impose a seasonal isolation that has historically accelerated the development of self-care traditions. Farm families who couldn't reach a doctor for months developed their own medical competence—setting bones, stitching wounds, managing fevers with willow bark and prayer. This tradition of medical self-reliance persists in the Midwest and influences how patients interact with the healthcare system.
Midwest medical students near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan who choose family medicine over higher-paying specialties do so with full awareness of the financial sacrifice. They're choosing to be the physician who delivers babies, manages diabetes, splints fractures, and counsels grieving widows—all in the same afternoon. This choice, driven by a commitment to comprehensive care, is the foundation of Midwest healing.
Medical Fact
Some physicians describe a visible change in a patient's face at the moment of death — a sudden smoothing, a look of wonder or peace.
Open Questions in Faith and Medicine
The Midwest's Catholic Worker movement near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan applies Dorothy Day's radical hospitality to healthcare through free clinics, respite houses, and accompaniment programs for the terminally ill. These faith-based healers don't distinguish between the worthy and unworthy sick—they serve whoever appears at the door, because their theology demands it. The exam room becomes an extension of the communion table.
Midwest funeral traditions near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan—the visitation, the church service, the graveside committal, the reception in the church basement—provide a structured healing process for grief that modern medicine's emphasis on individual therapy cannot replicate. The communal funeral, with its casseroles and coffee and shared tears, heals the bereaved through sheer social saturation. The Midwest grieves together because it has always healed together.
Ghost Stories and the Supernatural Near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan
Great Lakes maritime ghosts have a peculiar relationship with Midwest hospitals near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan. Sailors pulled from freezing Lake Superior or Lake Michigan were often beyond saving by the time they reached shore hospitals. These drowned men are said to return during November storms—the month the lakes claim the most ships—arriving at emergency departments with water dripping from coats, seeking treatment for hypothermia that set in a century ago.
The Midwest's meatpacking industry created hospitals near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan that treated injuries of industrial-scale brutality: amputations, lacerations, and chemical burns that occurred daily in the slaughterhouses. The ghosts of these workers—immigrant laborers from a dozen nations—are said to appear in hospital corridors with injuries that glow red against their translucent forms, a grisly reminder of the human cost of the nation's food supply.
Hospital Ghost Stories
The intersection of technology and the supernatural in hospital settings creates a unique category of evidence that Physicians' Untold Stories explores with particular care. In a modern hospital in Hwaseong, every patient is connected to monitors that track vital signs continuously. These monitors create a real-time record of physiological data, and in several accounts in the book, that data tells a story that defies medical explanation. A patient whose EEG shows no brain activity suddenly opens her eyes, recognizes her family, and speaks her last words before dying. A cardiac monitor displays a rhythm that no cardiologist can identify — not fibrillation, not flutter, but something entirely outside the known catalog of cardiac electrical activity.
These technology-mediated accounts are particularly valuable because they provide an objective record that supplements subjective testimony. When a physician says the monitor showed something impossible, the claim can be checked against the electronic medical record. Dr. Kolbaba's inclusion of these accounts underscores the book's commitment to evidence and its relevance for the scientifically literate readers of Hwaseong. In an age when data is king, these data points — anomalous, unexplained, and precisely recorded — demand attention.
The emotional impact of these encounters on physicians is an underexplored dimension of medical practice. A doctor who witnesses something she cannot explain in a patient's room at the moment of death carries that experience into every subsequent patient interaction. For some, it deepens their compassion. For others, it creates a quiet crisis of epistemology — a growing suspicion that the materialist framework they were trained in cannot account for everything they have seen.
Dr. Kolbaba found that physicians who ultimately integrated these experiences into their worldview — rather than suppressing them — reported greater professional satisfaction, deeper patient relationships, and a more nuanced understanding of death and dying. This finding has implications for medical education in Hwaseong and beyond: perhaps training physicians to acknowledge the limits of their knowledge is as important as expanding that knowledge.
The concept of the "thin place" — a location where the boundary between the physical world and something beyond it seems especially permeable — has deep roots in Celtic spirituality, but physicians have adopted the language to describe certain hospital rooms and units where unexplained events occur with unusual frequency. In Hwaseong's hospitals, as in hospitals everywhere, there are rooms where staff report a consistent pattern of strange occurrences: call lights that activate in empty rooms, doors that open on their own, a sense of presence that multiple people can feel. Physicians' Untold Stories suggests that these "thin places" may be more than superstition.
Dr. Kolbaba does not attempt to explain why certain locations seem to generate more unexplained activity than others, but the pattern itself is noteworthy. It echoes findings from the Society for Psychical Research, which has documented location-specific phenomena for over a century. For Hwaseong readers, the concept of thin places invites a new way of thinking about familiar spaces — the hospital room where a grandparent passed, the hospice facility where a friend found peace. These places may carry something of the experiences that occurred within them, a residue of the profound transitions that unfolded within their walls.
The phenomenon of veridical perception during deathbed experiences — in which patients accurately perceive information they could not have obtained through normal sensory channels — constitutes some of the strongest evidence in Physicians' Untold Stories. Veridical perception cases include patients who describe seeing deceased relatives they did not know had died, patients who accurately describe events occurring in other parts of the hospital during their deaths, and patients who identify individuals in family photographs they have never seen. These cases are particularly important because they provide a mechanism for empirical verification: the patient's perception either matches the facts or it doesn't. When it does, the implications are profound. The neurochemical hypothesis — that deathbed visions are hallucinations produced by a dying brain — predicts that the content of these visions should be unrelated to external reality, much as ordinary dreams are. Veridical perception directly contradicts this prediction. For Hwaseong readers who approach these topics with scientific rigor, the veridical perception cases in Physicians' Untold Stories represent a category of evidence that is difficult to dismiss and that demands further investigation by the research community.
The neurological hypothesis for hospital ghost experiences — that fatigue, stress, and proximity to death create conditions favorable for hallucination — has been examined and found inadequate by several researchers. A study published in Mortality found that while fatigue and emotional stress are indeed associated with anomalous perceptual experiences, the specific characteristics of hospital ghost encounters — their consistency across observers, their correlation with specific patient events, and their informational content — cannot be explained by fatigue-induced hallucination alone. Dr. Kolbaba noted that many of the most striking encounters occurred to physicians who were well-rested, emotionally stable, and had no personal connection to the deceased patient. The neurological hypothesis may explain some experiences, but it does not explain all of them — and the unexplained remainder is what makes these stories so compelling.
Miraculous Recoveries
The Institute of Noetic Sciences, founded by Apollo 14 astronaut Edgar Mitchell, maintains a database of over 3,500 cases of spontaneous remission from medically incurable conditions. These cases, drawn from medical literature spanning more than a century, represent a body of evidence that the mainstream medical community has largely ignored. The database includes cancers that vanished without treatment, autoimmune conditions that spontaneously resolved, and infections that cleared despite the failure of every available antibiotic.
Dr. Scott Kolbaba's "Physicians' Untold Stories" adds living physician testimony to this statistical record. Where the IONS database offers numbers and citations, Kolbaba offers voices — the voices of doctors from communities like Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan who watched these events unfold at their patients' bedsides. Together, the database and the book create a picture that the medical profession can no longer afford to ignore: that spontaneous remission is not a freak occurrence but a recurring phenomenon that demands systematic investigation.
The physicians in "Physicians' Untold Stories" uniformly describe their experiences with unexplained recoveries as career-defining moments. Not because the events were dramatic — though they certainly were — but because they forced a confrontation with the limits of medical knowledge. For physicians trained in the certainties of pathophysiology and pharmacology, witnessing an inexplicable recovery is profoundly disorienting. The frameworks that normally organize their understanding of disease and healing suddenly prove inadequate.
Dr. Kolbaba writes about this disorientation with empathy and insight, drawing on his own experience as a physician who witnessed events he could not explain. For medical professionals in Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan, his account validates what many have felt but few have articulated: that the practice of medicine, at its deepest level, requires not only expertise but wonder — the willingness to stand before the unknown and acknowledge that some of the most important things happening in our hospitals are things we do not yet understand.
Dr. William Coley's experiments with bacterial toxins in the late 19th century represent one of the earliest systematic attempts to harness the body's immune system against cancer. Coley observed that patients who developed bacterial infections following surgery sometimes experienced tumor regression, and he developed preparations of killed bacteria designed to induce a therapeutic immune response. His approach, ridiculed during the era of radiation and chemotherapy, has been vindicated by modern immunotherapy.
The cases in "Physicians' Untold Stories" that involve fever-associated tumor regression echo Coley's observations and suggest that the immune system's cancer-fighting potential may extend beyond what even modern immunotherapy has achieved. For immunotherapy researchers in Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan, these historical and contemporary accounts point toward a common truth: that the body possesses powerful self-healing mechanisms that can be activated — sometimes intentionally through treatment, and sometimes spontaneously through processes we do not yet understand.
Functional medicine, an emerging clinical approach that seeks to identify and address the root causes of disease rather than treating symptoms, has incorporated an awareness of spiritual and psychological factors into its assessment frameworks. Functional medicine practitioners routinely assess patients' stress levels, social connections, sense of purpose, and spiritual wellbeing as part of their comprehensive evaluation, recognizing that these factors can influence biological processes through multiple pathways including the HPA axis, the autonomic nervous system, and the immune system.
Dr. Kolbaba's "Physicians' Untold Stories" provides clinical evidence that supports the functional medicine approach, documenting cases where addressing the whole person — including the spiritual dimension — was associated with healing outcomes that conventional treatment alone did not achieve. For functional medicine practitioners in Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan, the book validates an approach they already advocate and provides compelling case-based evidence that they can share with patients and colleagues who may be skeptical of the clinical relevance of spiritual and psychological assessment.
The Lourdes International Medical Committee (CMIL) employs a verification protocol that is widely regarded as one of the most rigorous in the history of medical investigation. Established in the early 20th century and refined over subsequent decades, the protocol requires that each alleged cure meet seven specific criteria: (1) the original disease must have been serious and organic, (2) the diagnosis must be established with certainty, (3) the disease must be considered incurable by current medical knowledge, (4) the cure must be sudden, (5) the cure must be complete, (6) the cure must be lasting, and (7) no medical treatment can explain the recovery. Cases that meet these criteria are then subjected to review by independent specialists who were not involved in the patient's care.
Since 1858, only 70 cures have been recognized as miraculous under this protocol — a remarkably small number given the millions of pilgrims who have visited Lourdes. This selectivity itself speaks to the rigor of the process. Dr. Kolbaba's "Physicians' Untold Stories" invokes the Lourdes standard not to equate his cases with recognized miracles but to demonstrate that the medical profession possesses the tools and the tradition to investigate unexplained healings seriously. For readers in Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan, the Lourdes protocol offers a model for how rigorous medical investigation and openness to the extraordinary can coexist — a model that Kolbaba's book brings into the contemporary American medical context.
Bridging Hospital Ghost Stories and Hospital Ghost Stories
A 2014 survey published in the American Journal of Hospice and Palliative Medicine found that among hospice workers, 46% had witnessed at least one instance of a dying patient reaching out to an unseen presence, and 30% had observed patients engaging in coherent conversations with individuals who were not visibly present. These findings are not outliers — they are confirmed by similar studies from the United Kingdom, Japan, and India, suggesting a universal phenomenon rather than a cultural artifact.
For healthcare workers in Hwaseong who have witnessed these events, the academic validation matters deeply. Many have carried these memories in silence, fearing that disclosure would cost them credibility. Dr. Kolbaba's book serves as a bridge between private experience and public acknowledgment, giving medical professionals permission to name what they have seen.
The emotional impact of these encounters on physicians is an underexplored dimension of medical practice. A doctor who witnesses something she cannot explain in a patient's room at the moment of death carries that experience into every subsequent patient interaction. For some, it deepens their compassion. For others, it creates a quiet crisis of epistemology — a growing suspicion that the materialist framework they were trained in cannot account for everything they have seen.
Dr. Kolbaba found that physicians who ultimately integrated these experiences into their worldview — rather than suppressing them — reported greater professional satisfaction, deeper patient relationships, and a more nuanced understanding of death and dying. This finding has implications for medical education in Hwaseong and beyond: perhaps training physicians to acknowledge the limits of their knowledge is as important as expanding that knowledge.
The role of endorphins and other neurochemicals in producing deathbed experiences is a common skeptical explanation that deserves careful examination. The hypothesis suggests that as the body dies, it releases a cascade of endogenous opioids (endorphins), NMDA antagonists (such as ketamine-like compounds), and other neurochemicals that produce the hallucinations, euphoria, and altered consciousness reported in deathbed visions. While this hypothesis is plausible for some aspects of the dying experience — particularly the sense of peace and the reduction of pain — it fails to account for several features documented in Physicians' Untold Stories. It cannot explain the informational content of deathbed visions (patients seeing deceased individuals they did not know had died), the shared nature of some experiences (healthy bystanders perceiving the same phenomena), or the consistency of the experience across patients with very different neurochemical profiles. Furthermore, research by Dr. Peter Fenwick and others has documented deathbed visions in patients who were lucid, alert, and not receiving any exogenous medications — conditions in which the neurochemical explanation is particularly difficult to sustain. For Hwaseong readers evaluating the evidence, the neurochemical hypothesis is an important part of the conversation, but it is not the complete explanation that its proponents sometimes suggest.
How This Book Can Help You
For rural physicians near Hwaseong, Seoul Metropolitan who practice alone or in small groups, this book provides something urban doctors take for granted: professional companionship. The solo practitioner who's seen something inexplicable in a farmhouse bedroom at 2 AM has no grand rounds to present at, no colleague down the hall to confide in. This book is the colleague, the grand rounds, the reassurance that they're not alone.
About the Author
Dr. Scott J. Kolbaba, MD is an internist at Northwestern Medicine. Mayo Clinic trained, he spent three years interviewing 200+ physicians about their most extraordinary experiences.
Medical Fact
Cardiologists have noted that some patients who flatline and are resuscitated describe meeting deceased relatives during the brief period of clinical death.
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