The Near Death Experience (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 10) Read online

  “—And this went on for six days. On the seventh day, I awoke. Everyone had thought I was gone, up until that moment. In fact, the morning I came out of the coma, my wife, and the medical team were discussing removal of my life support. They were going to let me pass peacefully.”

  The camera swung away to the young, blond host.

  “Well, that’s the most amazing story I think I’ve ever heard, Doctor Sewell! And let’s see, you wrote a book about your experience?”

  The medical man leaned back and grasped his knee between his hands. It was a very Ivy League kind of cool move; Nadia thought, and her mind imagined he was a grad of some acclaimed medical school back East.

  “I did write a book. The Doctor Is In…Heaven is the title.”

  “Had you ever written a book before?”

  “I had authored several dozen papers that went on to be published in some very fine medical journals. I have four articles on neurosurgery in the New England Journal of Medicine. But a book? Never. And I never in my wildest dreams had ever imagined I would write a book.”

  Nadia reached forward and leveled out the incline. It was making too much noise with her feet flopping against the tread, and she wanted to hear what the doc had to say.

  “Well, Doctor Sewell, without giving away the whole book, can you walk us through a little of what heaven was like?”

  Nadia felt a shock roll down her spine. Heaven? What Heaven was like? Had she just said that?

  He smiled, releasing his knee and coming fully upright. Nadia liked his posture and saw how confident he was. It occurred to her: this man might be the real deal.

  “Well, for me, there wasn’t a bright light and heavenly music. When I died, I was first underneath a rock. This went on for some time, with terrible pounding noises. Then I was eventually in a grassy meadow, beside a stream of the clearest water I’d ever seen. I watched my reflection in the flow and then realized someone was behind me. I turned to see, and there were my deceased parents. Their arms were spread wide to welcome me. They came near and surrounded me with love.”

  “Did you say anything? Did they?”

  “It was funny. No words were necessary. Thoughts were just instantaneously exchanged.”

  Nadia reduced the speed to 5. This was worth hearing.

  “And what did they say to you?”

  “Lots of things; it’s all in my book. But the main thrust of it was that I was loved more than I could ever imagine. And that they had loved me since before the beginning of time.”

  “Did you see anyone else you knew?”

  The doctor lifted a blue mug with GMF emblazoned in gold letters.

  “I did. I saw my grandparents. And my favorite aunt.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Tears of joy, Nancy. Happy tears.”

  “And the book is?”

  “The Doctor Is In…Heaven.”

  “Well, that’s all the time we have now. Our thanks to Doctor Emerick J. Sewell. We’ll now rejoin Good Morning, America, right after this.”

  A Pep Boys commercial came on, and Nadia clicked the remote. The TV screen went black.

  Nadia quickly hit the down arrow and the treadmill slowed and slowed and finally rolled to a stop. She stepped off and went straight to her desk. Her laptop was open, browser up. She went to Amazon and immediately ordered The Doctor Is In…Heaven, for her Kindle.

  She didn’t even bother to shower first. She was going to sit around in her sweat—something she had never allowed before. But she didn’t care; this couldn’t wait to get the full story about his death and trip to heaven. She fired up her Kindle and began reading.

  First the foreword. She had been right; the doctor was Ivy League. Harvard Medical School. Of course. He had had that confidence, that charm, that certainty that others would like him if only they got to know him. So Ivy. Board Certified in Neurosurgery and a second certification in psychiatry. Are you kidding me? She thought. How unusual, but how impressive! The credentials were certainly in place.

  But how upset the East Coast medical community must be with the man! He had flown over the cuckoo’s nest, what with this story. Or fable. Or fairy tale. Whatever it was. Died and went to heaven? Seriously? She’d see about that. She’d read on and find the loopholes in his story, and she’d debunk his claims herself. It took one medical professional to judge another. And she was ready. She tore into the book with her claws and fangs ready to shred the guy and his tale.

  But a funny thing happened. She studied the portions in his book about the virus that had ravaged his brain and left him comatose. It had done its job well, finally leaving him with no brain activity at all. She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. So, she thought, there it was: he was brain dead. So he couldn’t have been thinking about heaven or having a hallucination or drug-induced romp through his imagination. No, the EEG’s were there in the book for everyone to see: he had been brain dead. So where, she wondered, did the memories of heaven and dead family come from? She twisted the cap off a bottle of water and jumped back into the book. She hadn’t found it yet—the logical fallacy—but she would. She was the nonpareil investigator: the lie would reveal itself…and soon now. On she read.

  At noon, she looked up. Her sweat had dried and more than two hours had passed while she read the neurosurgeon’s book. The back matter of the book consisted of his medical chart—his file, his doctors’ and nurses’ notes and records and brain scans and reports. Plain as the lines in your palm. The man had been comatose and without brain activity for four straight days. And he had returned with an amazing tale of his journey to heaven and back.

  Nadia finally stood and began peeling off the workout clothing. It was time for a shower.

  She opened another bottle of water and took it into the shower with her. The giant shower head pummeled her with water, and for a moment she had the feeling she was being baptized but that only made her laugh. She had never been a churchgoer, despite her parents’ encouragement and despite their having dragged her to the Russian Orthodox Church during her childhood. None of it had stuck, and she simply didn’t believe any of that old religious junk. It held no sway over her; she laughed at believers and shunned them.

  But how would she reconcile what Dr. Sewell had clearly experienced in his journey to heaven, with her longstanding belief system of denial? She toweled herself dry in the shower, stepped out onto the bath mat, and studied herself in the steamy mirror. She still had a firm body, despite the years and the child-bearing. She attributed her physique to working out and working very hard at a physically demanding job. Plus she stayed active around Flagstaff. There were hikes, and there were long excursions on her backcountry skis when the snows inevitably came and stayed for months. All done alone, distanced from the world around her while she went through the motions and wondered why none of the experiences had ever evoked any feeling in her. Not awe at seeing some of the most beautiful country in the world as she made her way through forests in hiking boots or clamped onto backcountry skis, and not humility, as the towering mountains provided perspective for her life. She felt nothing and she had come to find that feeling nothing was its own kind of exhausting.

  So, she decided right then and there, nude before the wide glass mirror, to follow in the doctor’s footsteps. Yes, she would give it one last try, a medical experiment that would ground her in some belief system that would make her life worth living: she would journey near death and see for herself what near-death would reveal.

  She shocked herself with the thought. She went into her bedroom and dressed in baggy blue jeans and a T-shirt that featured a skier in a Telemark turn. But the leaf had been turned over. She had made a decision and, in Nadia’s world, decisions once made were never reversed.

  She went to her locked supply cabinet and spun the lock. Right-left-right-right-left. The numbers clicked, and the door swung open.

  Her fingers traced along the wrappers of the medicine bottles. She was looking in particular for a certain pain rel
iever. Enough of that should do the trick. Enough of that should render her unconscious to the point where she might have a near death experience for herself.

  She selected the bottle with great care. She considered her body weight and the normal dosage for the drug. Then she doubled it. But that wouldn’t be enough to take her away to the level of unconsciousness she wished to attain. So she doubled it yet again.

  Now there was another preparation to be made. The preparation of a letter to be read by whoever found her if she happened to overdose and didn’t make it back. The thought was less than frightening for Nadia. She was realizing, as she made her plan, that she had been done with the world long ago. Going through the motions of living was no longer good enough. It was time for a deeper experience and the possibility that she might not make it back held no fear for her. At least not enough to make her stop and reconsider.

  So she wrote and printed a letter of explanation. It said:

  If you find this, I am probably dead. Please don’t be upset if I am because I was bored with living anyway. I was tired of life and until you live a life like mine you probably won’t understand.

  Dr. Emerick Sewell has a book called The Doctor Is In…Heaven and I have taken pills to try to get to where he was when he had his journey into heaven. I’m following his medical advice on what happens. Did I get there? If you’re reading this, you’ll probably never know. But I will know.

  This is my life and it’s a choice I have made. Am I selfish? Maybe, but I don’t care. My kids have their lives and they are happy. I’ve lost Henri and my life is no longer valuable to me anyway, so don’t mourn. Just let me go.

  Nadia.

  She then added a PS:

  All of my money shall be used to create a scholarship called the Henri Turkenov Nursing Scholarship at Northern Arizona University. No money should go anyplace else. Thank you.

  Nadia

  It was signed with her scrawl and was left in her lap as she sat back in her recliner and downed her pills with a water chaser. Which was when she realized: she had no last will and testament. She leaped up and went back to her laptop and printer. She re-wrote the letter, this time with a p.s. that said, simply, I have my money in Bank of America. Phoenix branch on Camelback. N.

  Armed with the new, revised letter, she went back to her recliner. She felt the pills beginning to take effect and hurriedly plopped into her chair. Again, the letter was left resting in her lap.

  She closed her eyes and placed her arms inside the armrests.

  A deep breath. Another.

  While she waited.

  3

  Six months earlier, Thaddeus Murfee had accompanied his wife Katy to the oncologist in Flagstaff.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” the oncologist said, his eyeglasses perched on his forehead and his arms folded on his chest as he sat at his desk. “I have reviewed the scans. The cancer has progressed to the right hip, the thoracic spine and lumbar spine, and the skull, right occipital region.”

  “Which explains my headaches and backaches,” Katy said.

  “Which explains your pain, certainly,” said the doctor.

  Thaddeus stirred in the seat beside his wife. He was the only non-doctor in the office, but he was ready to meet the challenge head-on. They were already several steps ahead of him, but he had no way of knowing that.

  “So what’s indicated, Dr. Jurgens?” he said. “Radiation? Chemo?”

  The doctor’s eyes never left Katy’s eyes.

  “Neither. I’m afraid we’ve run out of options.”

  Thaddeus came fully upright. “Then we need a second opinion.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you for that, Mr. Murfee. I can recommend several docs in the Phoenix area who I am sure would review the case. My nurse will give you the short list on your way out.”

  Katy shook her head. “I don’t want that, Honey. I’m a doctor, and I know what ‘no options’ means. I don’t want to spend my remaining time driving back and forth from Flagstaff to Phoenix.”

  “Then I’ll do it by myself,” Thaddeus said. “I’ll see him myself and report back to you. I’m not done fighting.”

  She touched his hand. “Then you’ll be away from me, and I don’t want that either. I want you and the kids close by.”

  Thaddeus slumped back in his chair. He said nothing. His head came forward, and his chin rested on his chest. He took a long, shuddering breath. There were no words.

  “How long are these things, usually?” Katy asked.

  “Six months, give or take. Maybe even a year. Maybe only one month. But I would call it six if I were you.”

  She turned to Thaddeus. “See? We do have some time yet. There’s so much we can do.”

  He nodded. “Absolutely. There’s so much we can do.”

  Although he had no idea where to begin. Right then, he only wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go. Maybe that was where he should begin.

  “All right,” he said at last. “I think I’m beginning to see what you two are seeing.”

  “That will be best,” said Dr. Jurgens. “Our tumor board here at the hospital has carefully reviewed this case. You are receiving the benefit of the best thinking of many excellent physicians, Thaddeus.”

  Thaddeus shook his head. “Please. You don’t have to convince me.”

  “What he means, is that—” Katy began.

  Thaddeus laughed. “What am I ever going to do without you around to explain to people what I mean?”

  He said it with the greatest love possible, and she knew it. So did Dr. Jurgens, who chuckled.

  Thaddeus stretched out his arms and stretched his legs. It was sinking in, and he was visualizing his role. He would be supportive, loving, and patient. He would also need to learn about participating in palliative care for the terminal patient; something he had always thought was maybe fifty years down the road where it would be Katy caring for him. But it wasn’t. This was it, telescoped fifty years ahead, and he was to be the caregiver, not Katy.

  “So,” said Dr. Jurgens. “Let’s talk about pain management.”

  “Please do,” said Katy. “It would be nice to make the backaches and headaches hurt just a little less.”

  “We can do much better than that. We can make you comfortable right up to and including the end.”

  “A course of medication all thought out and tested,” she said.

  Dr. Jurgens nodded. “That would be correct.”

  “All right. What do I need first?”

  “First will be a home health nurse. She will be there at first just for med management. Her role will change as your health diminishes.”

  “Understand.”

  “You will eventually need round-the-clock help from these nurses.”

  “Okay.”

  “My nurse has some providers you can contact. Your insurance will cover any of them. We’ve already confirmed that.”

  “Thanks,” said Thaddeus.

  She drove them home.

  “I want to do the driving, make the beds, load the dishwasher, cook the dinners as long as I can. I am going to live while I can.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Thaddeus said. “But I do think we should make a trip to Phoenix and, at least, check in with another doctor. It’s your life we’re talking about here.”

  “Thad, I know Dr. Jurgens. Everyone says he’s the best. Impeccable credentials. Mid-sixties, been around forever. The Medical Center has the latest scanners money can buy; the radiologists are all board certified in the group managing my care. Another doctor isn’t going to change the fact that the cancer has spread. All the second opinions in the world aren’t going to change that.”

  “I know that. That much we agree on. But I’m not in agreement that there are no treatment options for what we’re looking at. Different clinics are beating cancer every day. Think of the Cleveland Clinic. I’ll fly you over there. Or Johns Hopkins. Or Scripps. Or Mayo’s. We can go anywhere in the world, also. Let’s at least
think about it.”

  She gave a long sigh and moved her hands on the steering wheel. Staying within her usual manner of discussing things with Thaddeus was becoming difficult. She had pain, and she didn’t feel like arguing, much less discussing anything at length. She gritted her teeth anyway and decided to give him some room for movement.

  “All right. We’ll take one shot. You get online and make your calls, do what you think is best, and we’ll get a second opinion. In a way I guess I owe you that.”

  He smiled and touched her thigh. “You owe you that.”

  * * *

  Two weeks later they had visited with none of those first named health care providers. Thaddeus had learned that the best in the country in cancer care was reported to be the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. So early one morning Katy drove them to Flagstaff Airport, and they took the Gulfstream to Houston. The appointment was at noon, which they made easily. Katy had refused a full workup with new scans and tests. Instead, she agreed only to a chart review by the world-renowned staff.

  When they were done, Thaddeus was silent as they took a cab back to the airport. He stared out the window at the lengthening afternoon shadows and felt very lonely. His left hand found Katy’s hand, and he clutched it. Tears came to his eyes, and he blinked hard and concentrated on how her hand felt just then. He wanted never to forget that moment when they were together and when he was holding her, the inevitable now confirmed by the best second opinion available in the United States.

  “I’m sorry I made you come here,” he said when he had forced himself to rejoin her in the moment.

  “You didn’t make me. I agreed,” she said. “And I won’t say I told you so. It is what it is, and you needed to hear it for yourself.”

  “Thanks for doing it. I mean that. I’ve taken you away from the kids and your house for a full day. I promise not to do that again.”