"... local media report. Before the incident, he had been doing vodka rounds with friends – and after the 'miraculous awakening,' he went back to the party.... [H]e found his friends were still drinking, but this time commemorating him.... The commemoration ceremony was quickly revamped into a re-birthday party."
Yeah, I know. Did that really happen... somewhere in the wilds of Russia. The Khasanky Region, we're told. I try to Google Khasanky and Google asks whether perhaps I mean Kazaky, Khasan, Khasani, or Khanky. But it's a good story... possibly appropriate if you're waking from the dead of last night's carousing.
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टिप्पणी पोस्ट करा (Atom)
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The Last Stitch
Sir: The recent revival of Daphne Banks from a mortuary reminded me of the following:
On one of the ships I sailed as a cadet in the Merchant Navy in the early 1960s, there was a death on board off the West African coast. As there were two doctors on the ship to sign the death certificate and no refrigerated space, it was decided to "commit the body to the deep".
The mate sent me down to assist the bo'sun to prepare and stitch up the corpse, as he said I would be unlikely to witness such an occurrence again. The bo'sun, a North Sea Chinaman (ie, he hailed from the Orkney Isles), was in his sixties and had performed the task several times before. He was a deft hand with the palm [leather glove] and needle used to sew the heavy canvas into a shroud around the body, and when he came to the final stitches around the face he pushed the large triangular-shaped needle right through the nose. I winced, and he looked up at me and said, "That's the law of the sea, the last stitch through the nose, if that don't wake him up I know he's dead."
Apparently, it was not uncommon for sailors or passengers to be mistakenly pronounced dead. This was the final test.
Yours sincerely,
Tim Craig
http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/letter-stitch-that-would-waken-the-dead-1324156.html
Things like that have happened in the past (many years ago) in places in the United States - I think I read of them.
WHat this most likely tells you is that there are places where the people who pronounce pther people dead are not experts, or skilled at all.
His name wasn't Tim Finnigan was it?
Stanislaw Lem wrote essentially the same story as the plot in one of his wonderfully anti-communist sci-fi books, The Investigation, back in 1959.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
When I was an intern, a patient I had seen that day and who had died, suddenly sat up in the morgue at the hospital. The morgue attendants came running into the admitting area where I was working and told us he had sat up under the sheet and they were not going back there without a doctor. Two of us went back with them and there was George sitting up on the gurney that they had wheeled him down from the floor on. When we uncovered him, he was still dead. Rigor Mortis had contracted his hips and he had been strapped down across his thighs for the ride down from the ward. They had been too busy to put him in the drawer in the morgue refrigerator.
We helped them straighten him out so he would fit in the drawer and went back to work. The story is in my book, "War Stories."
Nothing new under the sun.
http://www.near-death.com/science/evidence/ndes-have-been-known-throughout-history.html
http://the-formula.org/historical-cross-cultural-near-death-experiences/
Mark twain has a long story along these lines in life on the missipi.
I forget the exact story but it involved a search for hidden gold by twain. Turnedout that the hiding place was now under the river.
John henry
I also heard the story about the stitch through the nose while in the navy in the 60s
John henry
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ralph_Neves
Whether true or not is to be determined but it is one hell of a story and if true an epic party.
I'm trying to figure out what wouldn't be cause for another round of drinks with these people.
Well, if it is going to happen, it will be in Russia . . . or Florida.
That sounds like Finnegan's wake: the song.
Tim[C] Finnegan lived in[Am] Walkin Street, a[F] gentle Irishman[G] mighty odd
He[C] had a brogue both[Am] rich and sweet, an' to[F] rise in the [G]world he carried a[C] hod
You see he'd a sort of a[Am] tipplers way but the[C] love for the[Am] liquor poor Tim was[C] born
To help him on his[Am] way each day, he'd a[F] drop of the[G] craythur every[C] morn
[C]Whack fol the dah now[Am] dance to yer[F] partner around the flure yer[G] trotters shake
[C]Wasn't it the[Am] truth I told you?[F] Lots of fun at [G]Finnegan's[C] Wake
One morning Tim got rather full, his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet and a barrel of porter at his head
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
His friends assembled at the wake, and Mrs Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry, "Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim avourneen, why did you die?", "Will ye hould your gob?" said Paddy McGee
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job, "Biddy" says she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage, t'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Mickey Maloney ducked his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim
Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
Saying "Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t'underin' Jaysus, do ye think I'm dead?"
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
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