Faith, Healing & the Unexplained Near Surprise

Arizona's death customs reflect the diverse cultural tapestry of its Navajo, Hopi, Apache, Mexican American, and Anglo communities. The Navajo traditionally fear contact with the dead and practice elaborate avoidance rituals; historically, the hogan where a person died was abandoned or destroyed, and the body was handled only by specific individuals who underwent purification ceremonies afterward. Mexican American communities throughout southern Arizona celebrate Día de los Muertos with elaborate altars (ofrendas), marigold-decorated graves, and pan de muerto, particularly in Tucson's historic barrios, where the tradition has been observed continuously since the city's founding as a Spanish presidio in 1775.

Arizona's medical history is deeply intertwined with its reputation as a haven for tuberculosis patients in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The dry desert climate drew thousands of 'health seekers,' transforming Phoenix and Tucson into major medical centers. St. Luke's Hospital (now Valleywise Health Medical Center), founded in 1907, and Good Samaritan Hospital (now Banner – University Medical Center Phoenix), established in 1911, were both built partly to serve this influx of TB patients. The Desert Sanatorium in Tucson, opened in 1926, became a premier treatment facility and later evolved into Tucson Medical Center.

The University of Arizona College of Medicine, established in 1967 in Tucson, became a leader in integrative medicine under Dr. Andrew Weil, who founded the Arizona Center for Integrative Medicine in 1994. The Mayo Clinic's Arizona campus, opened in Scottsdale in 1987, brought world-class tertiary care to the Southwest. The Barrow Neurological Institute at St. Joseph's Hospital in Phoenix, founded in 1962, became one of the world's foremost centers for neurosurgical training and research, performing more brain surgeries annually than almost any other institution in the Western Hemisphere.

The United States has been at the forefront of medical innovation since the 18th century. Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston performed the first public surgery using ether anesthesia in 1846 — an event known as 'Ether Day' that changed surgery forever. The 'Ether Dome' where it occurred is still preserved.

Bellevue Hospital in New York City, established in 1736, is the oldest public hospital in the United States. The Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota — where Dr. Scott Kolbaba trained — was founded by the Mayo brothers in the 1880s and pioneered the concept of integrated, multi-specialty group practice that became the model for modern healthcare.

The first successful heart transplant in the U.S. was performed in 1968, and American institutions have led breakthroughs in everything from the polio vaccine (Jonas Salk, 1955) to the first artificial heart implant (1982). Today, the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Maryland, is the world's largest biomedical research agency.

The United States has one of the world's richest ghost story traditions, rooted in a blend of Native American spirit beliefs, European colonial folklore, and African American spiritual practices. From the headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow — immortalized by Washington Irving in 1820 — to the restless spirits of Civil War battlefields at Gettysburg, American ghost lore reflects the nation's turbulent history.

New Orleans stands as the undisputed spiritual capital of American ghost culture, where West African Vodou merged with French Catholic mysticism to create a tradition where the boundary between living and dead remains permanently thin. The city's above-ground cemeteries, known as 'Cities of the Dead,' are among the most visited supernatural sites in the world. Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, is said to still grant wishes to those who mark three X's on her tomb.

Appalachian ghost traditions draw from Scots-Irish folklore, with tales of 'haints' — restless spirits trapped between worlds. In the Southwest, Native American traditions speak of skinwalkers and spirit animals, while Hawaiian culture reveres the Night Marchers — ghostly processions of ancient warriors whose torches can still be seen along sacred paths.

The United States has documented numerous cases of unexplained medical recoveries. In Dr. Kolbaba's own book, a physician describes a patient declared brain-dead who suddenly recovered after family prayer. The Lourdes Medical Bureau has certified one American miracle cure. Cases of spontaneous remission from terminal cancer have been documented at institutions including MD Anderson Cancer Center and Memorial Sloan Kettering. The National Library of Medicine contains over 1,000 published case reports of 'spontaneous remission' across various cancers and autoimmune diseases — recoveries that defy current medical explanation.

The Southwest's Jewish communities near Surprise, Arizona—small but historically significant—bring Kabbalistic healing traditions that view illness as a disruption of the divine flow of energy through the body. Kabbalistic healers who work alongside physicians offer patients a complementary framework that addresses the spiritual dimension of illness: not what is wrong with the body, but what is blocked in the soul.

The Southwest's Sephardic Jewish communities near Surprise, Arizona—descended from crypto-Jews who fled the Inquisition and settled in remote New Mexico villages—carry healing traditions that blend Iberian herbalism with Hebrew prayer. These communities, only recently rediscovering their Jewish identity, offer a window into healing practices that survived centuries of concealment. The medicines they prescribe and the prayers they recite have been whispered in secret for 500 years.

Arizona's old tuberculosis sanitariums near Surprise, Arizona drew patients from across the country with the promise that desert air could cure consumption. Many came too late and died far from home. The ghosts of these displaced patients—New Englanders, Midwesterners, Southerners—wander hospital grounds with an air of geographic confusion, as if death in an unfamiliar landscape left them unable to find their way home.

The Southwest's tradition of roadside descansos—crosses marking the sites of fatal accidents near Surprise, Arizona—extends into hospitals where families create informal shrines in patient rooms. These descanso-like displays, combining Catholic imagery with personal mementos, transform hospital rooms into sacred spaces that honor the dead while caring for the living. The boundary between hospital and church, in the Southwest, was never firm.

Snake-envenomation NDEs near Surprise, Arizona are a Southwest specialty. Rattlesnake bites that progress to cardiovascular collapse can trigger NDEs with features unique to venom-induced death: a spreading warmth, a dissolution of bodily boundaries, and an encounter with the snake itself—not as a threat but as a guide. These NDE accounts parallel the ancient Mesoamerican association of the serpent with the passage between worlds.

The Southwest's concentration of holistic health practitioners near Surprise, Arizona has created a clinical environment where NDE experiencers can find therapeutic support that integrates their experience rather than pathologizing it. Acupuncturists, energy healers, and mindfulness teachers who understand NDEs provide a continuum of care that conventional medicine alone cannot offer.

What makes these accounts remarkable is not their supernatural character — it is their source. These are not stories from paranormal investigators or ghost hunters. They are accounts from board-certified physicians, surgeons, and intensivists who have spent decades trusting evidence and data. When a physician in Surprise tells you they saw something they cannot explain, the weight of their training makes that testimony impossible to dismiss.

Dr. Kolbaba himself struggled with this tension. As a Mayo Clinic-trained internist practicing at Northwestern Medicine in Wheaton, Illinois, his professional identity was built on evidence-based medicine. But the sheer volume and consistency of the stories he collected forced him to reconsider assumptions he had held since medical school. His willingness to publish these accounts — under his real name, with his credentials on full display — is itself a form of medical courage.

Night shifts are when these stories most commonly unfold. There is something about the 2 AM quiet of a hospital — the skeleton crew, the dimmed hallway lights, the intermittent beeping of monitors — that seems to thin the barrier between the measurable and the mysterious. Physicians working overnight in Surprise's hospitals have described a particular quality to these hours: a heightened awareness, an almost electric sensitivity to sounds and movements that the daytime bustle would obscure.

Dr. Kolbaba noted that many of the physicians he interviewed were reluctant to work nights for exactly this reason — not because they feared ghosts, but because they feared what acknowledging those experiences would mean for their understanding of reality. Several described spending years rationalizing away encounters that, when finally examined honestly, had no rational explanation.

The neurological research of Dr. Jimo Borjigin at the University of Michigan has provided new data relevant to understanding deathbed phenomena. In a 2013 study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, Borjigin and colleagues demonstrated that the brains of rats exhibit a surge of organized electrical activity in the seconds after cardiac arrest — activity that is even more organized and coherent than normal waking consciousness. This post-cardiac-arrest brain activity included increased gamma oscillations, which are associated in human subjects with conscious perception, attention, and cognitive processing. The finding suggests that the dying brain may undergo a period of heightened activity that could potentially produce the vivid, coherent experiences reported by NDE survivors and deathbed vision experiencers. However, the Borjigin study raises as many questions as it answers. It does not explain the informational content of deathbed visions, the shared nature of some experiences, or the fact that some experiences occur before cardiac arrest. For Surprise readers engaging with the scientific dimensions of Physicians' Untold Stories, Borjigin's work represents an important data point — one that complicates rather than resolves the debate about the nature of consciousness at the end of life.