Disclaimer: I in no way vouch for the authenticity of any of these stories. If people's lives are so dull that they want to lie about these things, I can't really stop them... but feel free to call them on it either on the forum or drop me a line and I'll post the comment here or on the mailing list.
In other words, please don't lie... or you'll probably be exposed in the end and won't you feel stupid then???

"My Brush With Morbidity" by Erika

"My fiance' and I, prior to moving back in with my beloved mother, lived in a local apartment complex near wear I work in beautiful Poway, CA; the so called 'City in the Country'. We had been living here for quite some time when it came to my attention that our quiet patch of heaven was not so quiet indeed. We lived in an upstairs apartment directly above an elderly woman who was caring for her mentally ill son and allowing her grandson to stay there as well. Occasionally I would run into the grandson in our public laundryroom. He was always very quiet and never said more than a word or so to me. He seemed well and 'normal' as some might say, albeit a bit shy.

"One evening my fiance and I were enjoying the peace of the night, a very large BANG was heard and a spot above our stone fireplace erupted in shatters of stone flecks and dust. He screamed like a little girl and we both jumped in surprise. I stood to inspect the area and determine exactly what had happened, when the old woman downstairs began screaming in absolute blood curdling terror. I ran out the door onto our balcony to see her fleeing her apartment and yelling. I can hear her words clearly ringing in my mind to this day, 'HE'S DEAD! Oh my god he's dead! He's DEAD!!'

"I watched her over the balcony as she collapsed on the grass and continued her chilling lament. Someone must have called the cops because within a minute (the station is directly behind the complex) the police arrived. Lots of tenants were now outside trying to determine what was going on, and police were telling people to go inside and that there was nothing to see. I hid behind a potted plant and continued to listen (much to my fiance's dismay). A police man and paramedic entered her home and the police man emerged shaking his head. It took almost an hour to get the woman coherent enough to speak and most of it was continued cries of 'he's dead, and oh my god, I can't believe it!'. Eventually she began wailing out the ordeal very loudly. 'I followed him and said, "What are you doing in my sons room?". He turned around with the gun in his hand and said "BYE BYE GRANDMA!" and then he KILLED HIMSELF!'.

"I stumbled back into the house and sat numbly on the couch, pale. I covered my ears as the woman continued to scream and wail on and on and on, and it felt like it would never end the the sound, good god, the sound! A man in plain clothes who identified himself as an officer came to our door and my fiance' showed the the spot in our fireplace where the large bullet hat ripped through our thin cheap flooring and embedded itself. They ended up removing a large chunk of our fireplace because the bullet fragments had shattered and could not be removed easily. The whole thing lasted the whole evening, and we answered a few questions regarding our neighbors, but nothing helpful or significant. The Grandmother and her son were taken into custody, but it was later cleared as a suicide. I watched the waste disposal team take out chunks of plaster and carry out dried blood and brain splattered bedding several days later.

"We stayed there for a year afterward, and we even received new tenants in the downstairs apartment after the old tenants had left. I often wondered if they knew of what had happened.... I'd watch them laughing on the porch drinking and smoking and would get the greatest urge to walk up and spill the whole thing, just to get a reaction. I never did though."

This story powerfully epitomises the unbearable anguish of the suicide survivor.

Posted 03.18.12

"My Brush With Morbidity" by Kim

"My family (Mom, me, two younger sisters and an older brother) often spent weekends at my Aunt's house in Raiford, Florida. The roads in Raiford and the tiny towns nearby are dark, narrow, winding, no streetlights, deserted with an almost non-existent amount of traffic. When I was seven years old late one pitch black night we were driving back from a high school basketball game. As we rounded a bend we suddenly stopped as we came upon a horrible and deadly car wreck. A white male in his early 20s was in the middle of the road screaming, begging, 'Please! Somebody tell me what happened! What happened?' A huge unscathed dark car with an older black couple was parked on the opposite side of the road pointed in the right direction, faces contorted with shock and horror. Off the road to the right of us sat a white Corvair in freshly churned dirt. The front was crushed into the dashboard. The roof was partially caved in and the only glass left was a small piece of the rear windshield. That's where I noticed the contorted and mangled body. It was smashed between what was left of the front seats and what little was left of the back windshield. I watched it for what seemed like a long time. It did not move. It was covered in so much blood that it was almost hard to tell that it was a white male. I stood mesmerized and captivated by its sight. I could not make myself look away. That is when I walked over and lightly stroked its skin oblivious to the blood on it. It was like it beckoned to me to come over to it, to touch it and stroke it; like I was giving it the last bit of gentleness and comfort that it would ever have. I wasn't scared at all. It was something that I had to do. Like it wanted me to touch it and it felt so natural to do so."

Okay, I don't know about you guys, but I really don't think my Mom would have let me touch a mangled body when I was 7.

Posted 09.24.10

"My Brush With Morbidity" by Alex

"I love your site. I wander around the internet for hours looking for just the most random, off-the-wall, useless, and morbid stories and information. And, I would love it if you featured an article written about me and my family on your site:

Doctors delivered a healthy baby by Caesarean section early today within hours of the mother's arrival at a Mississippi burn center for treatment of critical injuries. At the adjoining Firefighters Memorial Burn Center the mother, Sheryl Craft (24), was listed in critical but stable condition. Craft, her daughter, Alexandria (2), and the child's grandfather, Curtis Beasley, were taken to the burn center following a Tuesday afternoon house explosion in Petal, a South Mississippi community. A spokeswoman at the burn center said Mrs. Craft apparently suffered no additional medical problems as a result of the delivery and was receiving treatment for her burns. Authorities in Petal said four members of the family were burned in an explosion, which was triggered by a propane gas leak, but despite the force of the blast, which completely destroyed the family's home, no one was killed. Earl Ross Craft Jr. (4), was treated and released from the Forrest County General Hospital in Hattiesburg following the blast with only minor injuries. Craft's daughter, Alexandria, received the worst injuries and remains in critical condition. The father recalls that 'they have to give her medicine that paralyzes her to keep her from hurting herself.' Her prognosis is undetermined but grim.

"I'm Alexandria. I'm 25 now. I was burned over 90% of my body, 50 percent of which is 2nd and 3rd degree, which are the kind that leave lasting scar tissue. I have internal injuries of the throat and have chronic respiratory conditions similar to asthma as most of my throat is covered in scar tissue. I've had over 65 major surgeries (including more than 100 separate procedures) with more planned in the future. I also had to have a procedure which involved scraping the burned skin off of my body with a razor blade (which occurred twice a day for two months following the fire. That was a blast and a half, I can tell you. Yay for selective amnesia!)

"They told my mother that I had sustained injuries that had killed fully grown firefighters, so they weren't entirely sure how I managed to survive. They also said that I would never speak, that I would have brain damage, that my right hand would have to be amputated, and that I could very well be blind. I'm happy to say that none of that is true."

A truly amazing story of survival and perseverance, Alex! Thanks for sharing it with us.

Posted 09.17.10

"My Brush With Morbidity" by Ty

"Well, my brush wasn't death affiliated, but it was awesome! Me, my girlfriend, cousin, and ex-friend (good reasons) were down at a place called 'The Point' - a stretch of road leading to a recreational park thing. We sat down there in my girlfriend's car until we got bored and started to screw around. She started pulling out of the parking lot (pretending to leave us there). Well, we all jumped on the car and she started driving. She must have been doing about 20 when my ex-friend deciding to jump off halfway to the end of the stretch and lost his footing. His head hit the pavement and bounced. It sounded like a watermelon being dropped on the ground. We turned around and witnessed him having one hell of a seizure. Foaming at the mouth, eyes rolled back, convulsing and blood, lots of blood! The only words he could manage were 'Oh f*ck.... oh... fuck!' It pretty much rocked! We live in a small town in PA, so it was in the newspaper. Oh, and unfortunately he's ok."

Ty is a real philanthropist. Can't you tell?

Posted 09.12.10

"My Brush With Morbidity" by Corella

"When I was 14 I was friends with this dumbass girl who I'll call 'Jane'. Anyways, she was seeing this older guy who thought he was cool. In reality, he was just an asshole redneck. Well, I needed a ride home and they were going out so I took a ride with him. I was sitting in the backseat like any normal teenager or moron would do, and Jane was in the passenger seat. We live in a really rural area, and there are dirt and gravel roads everywhere. We happened to be on a particularly bad one to go visit one of Jane's friends. [Jane's boyfriend] decided he was going to show off, and starting speeding to about 80 miles an hour on a dirt road. We told him to stop, or slow down, but he didn't listen. I don't remember exactly what happened but I know he lost control and we went flying 80 miles an hour off a 10 foot embankment to a bunch of shardy rocks. I don't remember anything until we were walking down the street. I was missing a shoe, and my face was numb. I felt my face and it was full of blood, and I felt my left cheek and noticed there was something hanging: it was a giant flap of skin with glass stuck in it. That's when I knew I was screwed. I even felt my own cheekbone - it was the most disgusting yet unusual sensation I had ever felt. I felt this sharp pain going up my neck when I touched it but that wasn't the worst part. When they got me in the ambulance they could barely fit the strap on my head because of massive swelling. I had a really bad concussion and they thought I had fluid on the brain. It was also a redneck hospital to so they lifelited me to another hospital.

"Anyways, the damage:
massive bruising to my left arm,
23 stitches on my face (the scar is humungous and ugly but it's my ugly scar and I like it),
8 stitches on my ear, which was ripped all the way up (it still looks weird),
cervical stenosis (basically 2 disks were herniated and they took nerves with them causing me non-stop headaches which I still have 5 years later),
a massive concussion (they said my head had swollen to almost double its size)

"The way the police described it was that I hit my head on the dashboard and then bounced to my face going through the windshield...

"My wonderful stupidity paid off, and I live in permanent pain."

Awful ordeal, but I must say I am incredibly happy that you like your scar. I like my scars too. I think we should all love our scars - after all, they remind us what we've been through to be here!

Posted 01.31.10

"My Brush With Morbidity" by Laura

(This was originally sent on January 30, 2008 - but the slow, senile Comtesse didn't post it until January 23, 2010.)

"I had a brush with morbidity last week... I watched my grandfather die at the age of 82. It was a very surreal experience.

"He was originally diagnosed with cancer in his lungs (of the bowel cancer variety), which eventually spread into his brain and spinal cord. He fought it for four years, but rapidly deteriorated in the ten days before his death.

"When I arrived at the house to see him, it was three days beforehand. He was sleeping pretty much all the time, but could mumble a little bit in recognition that he was being spoken to. That night he was given morphine, and after that he didn't open his eyes again - until about 3 minutes before he died.

"The family had gathered in the room, as we realised the time was drawing near. His breathing was heavy, laboured and very rapid and his jaw seemed locked open. It continued like that for about 10-15 mins. After which, his breaths were still sharp and heavy, but growing further and further apart. The death rattle wasn't very intense, which made the experience a lot less creepy.

"Then his breathing stopped... and everyone burst into tears thinking it was over. Then, all of a sudden, his body strenuously gasped, which scared the living daylights out of everyone --- at that moment, he turned his head to where most people in the room were, closed his mouth, and opened his eyes - which were all clouded over. (Apparently this isn't uncommon, as a few of my friends said they had similar experiences.)

"I know he was probably brain dead by that time, but I still wonder if he knew it was happening, or if he could hear us?

"Over the next couple of minutes, his breath became gentle, slowed down, and eventually just stopped.

"He died at 6:42PM on January 22nd, 2008."

What an intense experience. He was lucky to have you all there with him.

Posted 01.23.10