A Seattle IANDS Near-Death Experience Story

A Tiny Glimpse by Cathy Baker

It was 1989. My husband had had a heart condition for several years, but fortunately I was able to care for him at home. One morning I awoke and found him dead in his recliner. I remember that his skin had changed color, and rigor mortis had already set in. The shock I experienced was so great that I found myself stumbling around the house talking to myself saying, "Think, Cathy. Think, Cathy." What should I do? Was this real?

I called 911 and emergency vehicles soon filled the driveway. The medics tried reviving my husband with electric shock paddles, but I knew he was dead. After his body was placed in an ambulance, one of the medics asked if I could manage driving alone, and then offered to drive my car. No, I couldn't drive alone. I was numb. I couldn't hear, and it was like everything was a long way away from me when I did hear. I could see perfectly well, and I knew everything that was going on around me. But I still wasn't a part of it. I rode right behind the ambulance to the hospital.

After a while someone called a cab to take me home, but I couldn't imagine going home without my husband. We had no children, so I walked into that empty house, and it seemed like it wasn't our house anymore. I was totally in another world. So I called my nearest friend, and she and her husband arrived and took me home with them, and kept me for a few days. The funeral went ahead as normal, as normal as funerals go. My friends insisted that I stay with them a few days more, until I was able to take care of myself. But eventually I had to go home.

When I got there I thought, "How am I going to face life without David?" Inside I felt all cringed up. My feelings were gone and things seemed like they were happening at a distance. I made it through the first night without sleep, but by the next day I just didn't want to go on. I'd had an ulcer for several years, brought on by worrying about my husband's condition and not eating right. I kept this under control with medication. But on the second day I just fell on my knees and prayed to the Lord, "Lord, save me. Help me through this." Then, that same day, my ulcer ruptured. It just blew a hole through the wall of my stomach, and with some difficulty I called for an aid unit.

The acid made me feel like I was burning up inside. I was doubled over in pain on the floor. I heard the ambulances screaming all the way to the house, and then they rushed me to West Seattle Hospital. I could hear those sirens screaming like mad.

They ran with me down the corridors of the hospital, with me on a gurney, and took me straight to the operating room. They just flipped me up onto a table like I was a side of beef. As I faded in and out of consciousness I saw people all around. Something was clamped over my mouth. I heard them yelling, "We're losing her! We're losing her!" Then I felt myself slip out of my body, through my head! I was up in the corner of the operating room, watching them work on my body down below.

I was not directly over them, but a little off to one side, up and over their heads. But I thought I could see my own body lying there with a ring of doctors around it. Then I wondered, "Is that really me they're working on down there?", so I moved. Then I could see well enough to tell that it was me they were working on. As I floated over them, I noticed I didn't feel any pain.

I had no feeling for the body below other than a mild curiosity about the surgery. My attitude towards my body was in fact quite nonchalant. "Well," I thought, "If that's me down there, and I'm up here..." It was kind of funny in a way, it really was. "No sense in me hanging around here, watching all this going on," I thought to myself. So I moved down through the operating room door and started down a hallway. As I was traveling along it looked like the hallway came up close to an entrance to a tunnel. When I got there I stopped, then stepped into the tunnel. That's when this lady came and joined me. I didn't see her come. She was just there.

As soon as I entered the tunnel I heard hideous laughter and groaning. I was standing on a raised pathway, wide enough for two people to walk on side by side, and I had difficulty standing because a strong wind was blowing against me. On the right hand side was a large pit full of people, laughing hysterically and moaning, and I was scared to death of them. On the left was a dark pit also, in which I sensed eyes watching me and something very evil. The tunnel was dark except for a light way far ahead. This illuminated the path somewhat, but most of the tunnel was in a kind of twilight.

The woman who joined me was behind and above me. I felt and saw her, but not in the same way I was seeing everything else. She had on a long sleeveless robe of a very fine, light blue material, corded or belted around the waist. She was a very slender woman, and I could feel a gentleness coming from her. Her hair was shoulder length, not real blond, but pretty. It was as though I could see her with my mind. Her head was about even with the top of my head, and she said, "Go to the end of the tunnel. Go."

As I moved further into the tunnel it got larger. I could very much feel the people on the right and dimly saw them looking up at me. Their screeching and howling was insane, and they tried grabbing for me. They had this bluish gray tint to their skin, like some types of clay I've seen. The pit they were in was huge and was thick with people, male and female. It went way back into the darkness, although I could only see the ones standing up close. They were terribly sick, terribly unhappy, and I've never heard such sounds in my life. On the left I could see no people, but over there I could feel the awfullest evil, a very sinister feeling that was even more evil than what was on the right.

In the distance was the end of the tunnel, and it looked too far away. I had to lean forward and fight against the wind coming through the tunnel just to stand up. My legs and feet were so heavy they felt like they were made out of lead. But the woman kept urging me, like you would a little child, desperately urging me to go to the light. I was so tired. She had this kind, gentle feeling with which she spoke to me that wasn't words. It wasn't a language. It wasn't talk. She spoke with a kind of feeling I somehow understood. The wind was so strong that it would have blown me over backwards if she hadn't been there and told me to go to the light.

As long as I stayed on that path, and struggled toward the light with that woman behind me, I felt I was safe, although I was terribly frightened. I had to concentrate so hard to move ahead. On the right hand side these people were reaching up for me, trying go grab a hold of my limbs, or anything they could get a hold of to drag me in with them. I was deathly afraid of them. They had hideous looks on their faces, and tortured crying and insane laughter rose from the whole group. Somehow I felt that although they were reaching for me, that they weren't allowed to touch me, and I felt that it was because this woman was with me, behind me. She said, gently but urgently, "Don't look at them. Stay on the path."

From the left came this horrible evil, and I was sure I was being watched. Vaguely I remember seeing glowing eyes in that darkness. I have never, ever felt such raw pure evil before. There was so much of it, that it felt like it was a wall, that it was solid. In the presence of this I became so absolutely frightened that I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with the kind of fear that stops you from breathing. I wanted to shrink away as far as I could. But I could feel the woman's hands on my back, urging me on, and she let me know that if I made it to that light, that I would be safe.

In front of me a reddish shadow appeared on the path, and it was that evil, coming from the left hand side. Then it was gone. About half way towards the light the pits on both sides disappeared, and there was just the wind for me to fight against. It seemed like it had been a tremendously long journey when I came out of the tunnel.

The light was the first thing I was aware of. There was no single place it was coming from. Nor did it have the brilliance of our sun. I felt like it was the air itself that was the light. It was a gold, soft, very warm light, that was pleasant and very soothing. At the same time it also felt slightly invigorating. It kept you aware. You could see better, you could hear better, everything was better. And it felt like the light was doing that instantly. Instantly when I came out of that tunnel all the fatigue I had had of struggling was gone in this soft, glowing light, and I felt healed and exhilarated. There's no feeling like it in the world.

To my left, in the distance, was a golden city. It was quite far away, across a field of weeds, grass, flowers and little bushes. The buildings were two or three stories high, and some of them had domes while others had spires. They were golden, and I can remember that the way the light reflected off of them was beautiful.

I don't know what happened to the woman who had been with me, but I had no feeling of her presence anymore. In front of me a big man was approaching. He was broad shouldered, had a beard and was wearing a brown robe. Behind him was an immense lake that had beautiful dark blue water. I knew instantly who the man was. I don't know how I knew it, because he never told me and I have never studied the Bible, but I knew it was St. Peter. He was walking across the field toward me. I had the feeling he knew I was coming because he was already half way between the lake and me when I first saw him. I waited for him.

Behind Peter the lake went on as far as I could see. The lake edge was ringed, on my side, by trees that had pale green lacy like leaves, like willow leaves. A few of these trees appeared to be quite old, but most of them were young and not too tall.

Past Peter, by the water's edge, was another man walking with a lot of little children around him. They were in great spirits and were walking beside him or scampering in front of him. Some were holding onto his robe and some were walking backwards, the way children do. This man had on a long white robe with a golden cord that was tasseled at the end. His gown was down to his feet, and he had on sandals. There was some kind of fine, gold work on his robe sleeves. His hair appeared to be about shoulder length, wavy, and blondish red, parted in the middle. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, even though this big man was getting closer to me. The man by the lake attracted my eyes so much that I didn't want to look at anything else. He had, I'm not sure I can call it a light, but something special about him so that you wanted to keep looking at him.

Finally Peter reached me and started talking. He was a large man, not fat, just huge. His hair was brown, quite long and kind of bushy. "I'm sorry, you'll have to go back," he told me. "It's not your time yet." He had the kindest look on his face of any look I've seen, like he really cared. You don't see people with that look on their face.

I was still fascinated with the other person who had the children playing around him. It was as though I had to make a concentrated effort to focus on what Peter was saying, because I was so intrigued by the person by the lake. Then I asked Peter who that person was. He answered, "That's the Lamb." I had never known Jesus as "The Lamb." I didn't know my Bible at all and I actually didn't consider myself a Christian. But I didn't want to take my eyes away from Him. In fact, I wanted to get up close enough so I could see His eyes, and then somehow, I don't know how, I was able to do that.

Somehow, I think it was just by my wanting to, I next found myself close enough to Him so that I could see His eyes. They were so full of love and kindness. You've never, ever in your life seen that, nor have I seen that, even in my mother's eyes. You know how when you first look at your mother and recognize her as your mother, how much you love her, and how much love you see in her eyes? There's no love I have ever encountered like the love that came from His eyes. It just washed over me like warm, soothing water. It washed over me, so that I felt like I was kind of melting and like I was a part of Him. Peter came up to us and said, "It's time to go." I didn't want to go back, and I broke down and started crying. "I don't want to go back," I answered. Jesus didn't say anything. Then Peter said, "It won't be long till your turn." When I started to cry and begged to stay, Jesus turned and started walking away. Then I knew that I had to come back. Peter said, "It won't be long."

I don't know how I returned, but I came back to my body, which I saw on the operating table. I remember sitting down on my body, and then leaning back and laying on it. It felt like I merged and sank into it.

When I became conscious, I was kind of surprised because I was in a strange room with tubes up my nose and in my heart, and everywhere, sticking out all around. They also were monitoring my heart. I was kept under supervision for several days in intensive care. Then I began to remember the medics running down the hall with me, and the big lights of the operating room. The recollections came back gradually.

While I was lying there, my near death experience came back to me, but in fragments. These parts were extremely vivid, but I didn't understand them and I was very confused. Part of my puzzlement occurred because I knew there was more. Gradually this experience became more of one piece, but a little at a time. It bothered me, because I knew it was absolutely not a dream, but I had no idea what it was, what had happened.

It was later that I found out that I had died. Apparently while they were operating on me for the ruptured ulcer, my heart failed, quit, stopped. Dr. Gottlieb, a heart specialist who just happened to be in the hospital, had saved my life. Later he told me, "You know, we lost you. But I brought you back." Before he said that, however, he asked me quite a few questions about whether I remembered anything, and I didn't understand him until later, when I began to recall my near death experience in greater entirety.

The papers I got from the hospital said I died, and my life insurance would be automatically paid for the rest of my life. This happened because of a clause in the policy that provided automatic coverage in the event I had a stroke or heart attack.

This near death experience has moved through me, or I through it, and left behind a different person than I used to be. If a person can be turned around, I have been. One of the major changes I've noticed is that before my NDE I wasn't tolerant of or patient with people. Nor was I very content and happy with life, and after I lost my husband I didn't want to live. Ironically, not only did an experience brought on by dying introduce me to tolerance and patience, but it gave me a love for the life around me so that I wanted to go on living.

This is in part because of the increased appreciation I have for, what some people call, "the little things in life." I'm much more aware of the beauty that's around us all now, that we give ourselves no time to stop and look at.

Another change I experienced was that I used to be a very shy person. I never reached out to people or was conscious of helping people. I'm not saying I was a cruel person. I was just detached and unaware. But my awareness has grown. Especially in the retirement home where I live, because so many people there can use a little help. It doesn't have to be a big, big thing. Just like helping someone unlock their door sometime. The little old ladies that live in my building, some of them are so old they can't turn the lock on their door. Or I'll hold an elevator for someone. Just little things a person can do that I would never have been conscious of before.

I also was never conscious of other people's feelings. Oh, I was aware of my children's, of course, and my near relatives', or my close friends'. I'd sympathize with them if they had hard luck, and help out if I could. But I never had that deep caring, real caring. Now I think I do.

Mind you, it isn't me that's changed me. It's been what happened to me that changed me. It changed me from the inside out. It changed me in my heart and in my mind.

I've died, and now I'm not afraid to die. Thinking about death used to put me in a morbid state of mind, even terrorized me. Now I'm kind of looking forward to it. I really am. Because I've been there, and I know what it's going to be like, or partly like anyway. Plus probably a lot better than that even. I think I saw a tiny glimpse of what could be in store be for all of us.

Years have gone by since my near death experience, but it comes to mind every day of my life. I can't forget it no more than I can forget myself. It's like it's a part of my soul. I hope and pray to God that you believe me, because this really happened. And don't be afraid to die. Don't be afraid.

Editor's note: Cathy also recounted a second near death experience she had in March, 1994. During that month Cathy said that because of deteriorating health, she spent several days in a room near the top of Cabrini Hospital. While there, she said that an angelic being entered her room and told her that it was her time to leave. She had no argument with this, but was, in fact, relieved to be going. Together she and this being exited through the wall of her room and were over downtown Seattle, when another angelic being approached them, and there ensued a discussion in which it was communicated to her that there had been a "change in plans," and that she had to return. While Cathy was greatly disappointed, it was fortunate for those who attend Seattle IANDS meetings that this occurred, because it was two months later that Cathy attended one of our meetings and shared with us the above experience. Then Cathy passed away in August, 1994.

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