My husband spent the last two months of his life in a private room in the Kelowna Hospital in Kelowna, British Columbia. It was late 1965 and he was dying of cancer, I spent all my days at his bedside, leaving only once in a while to pick up our mail or get books from the library.
One afternoon when I returned after an absence of about two hours he greeted me excitedly, “Guess who came to visit while you were gone! Lou Gunn!”
That’s odd, I thought. Lou lived in Edmonton and doesn’t even know my husband is ill. Lou had been his closest friend during the many years we had lived in Edmonton.
“How did he know you were in the hospital?” I asked. “I don’t know; he just did,” came the vague answer. I looked closely to see if my husband had been influenced by some drug. His eyes look perfectly normal and clear.
“Lou had a very serious heart attack,” my husband continued. “On November 2 out of the blue he was stricken with a coronary thrombosis.” November 2! This was November 28. If Lou had sustained a serious coronary only twenty-six days ago, he could not possibly have travelled the distance to Kelowna.”Are you sure Lou was here? May be you went to sleep and dreamed while I was gone.” My husband, now indignant, replied, “I haven’t slept one minute. Lou was here and he talked to me. Why don’t you ask the nurse? She’ll know.”
All visitors had to have the nurse’s permission to enter my husband’s room. I went to the desk and asked if he had had any visitors. The answer was no. Had he been given any medication? Nothing whatsoever for the past three days.
Back in his room I told him that he dreamed Lou’s visit. He became quite angry and insisted it was not a dream. Four weeks later I received a letter from Lou’s wife telling me that his heart attack on November 2, 1965, had been fatal. He died within an hour of the attack. But my husband insisted the saw Lou twenty-six days later.
Kelowna, British Columbia, Canada