"A dementia client sat up in bed on night rounds. She was crying and staring out the window. Generally, she didn't say much but she was inconsolably crying.
Outside her window were trees and a smoke stack from a mill. She was pointing at the smoke stack, crying out, 'Auschwitz, Auschwitz...No, no! Mama...'
I closed her curtains and had to walk out. I was chilled to the bone.
I once had another nurse tell me about an old psych hospital in town (100+ years old). Some sections were closed and even flooded. It was common to have call bells go off from the locked and empty building and phone calls from the units there. When you picked up, all you would hear was static or complete silence."
"I work overnight in a nursing home. We use small nightlights over the beds at night so we don't disturb them any more than necessary. It makes the room very dark and shadowy. This normally is fine, I'm not superstitious so I don't get freaked out easily.
Anyway. I had this patient who was 75-85 years old, 80-90lbs soaking wet. Tiny little non-verbal woman. She was fairly contracted, in a fetal position. I came in to give her meds and since she was facing the wall, I leaned over her slightly to wake her. As I leaned over her, my body blocked part of the nightlight, leaving her face in shadow, except her eyes. I'll never forget looking at her face and reaching out to touch her shoulder to wake her. Before I could touch her, her eyes snapped over to me, and she whispered, 'Diiieee.' I froze in shock and I felt my stomach roll up into my chest. Before I could react, she whispered, 'Murder,' in a long whoosh. It freaked me the heck out. I immediately left the room. She didn't get her meds until she was up and in the brightly lit dining room.
I never had an issue like that with her again. It was so scary. Other nurses said they had creepy encounters with her as well."
"I worked in a psych hospital on the night shift. I don't really believe in the supernatural, but this one patient made me question everything. She was a forty-something-year-old patient, if not older. She rarely made any fuss or even talked, but when she did, it was always something prolific or profound. Anyway, on random nights, she would be in hysterics, saying that her pillow was singing songs to her in the middle of the night (roughly 3 am). We never thought anything of it until we found out that her bed used to belong to a male patient that killed himself in that bed. The song she always claimed that her pillow was singing apparently used to be his favorite song. The older staff said that he never spoke, he just sang that same song all the time, the same one the patient claimed she could hear. That was a big nope for me."
"This didn't happen super late at night, but I was floated to another unit between 7 pm to 11 pm. I had a patient who we all swear was possessed. She was in her early 70s and was a psych patient put on a medical floor for I think it was dehydration. She never closed her eyes. They were constantly wide open and she'd track you while you were in the room. She would cackle this deep, raspy, maniacal laugh. The only words you could understand were, 'Get out!' She would be staring at you, cackling, mumbling nonsense (or speaking in tongues, not sure) and then she'd scream, 'Get out!' Then she'd go back to cackling. She'd also twist her body, especially her neck, in these very odd, unnatural looking positions. When my unit called me back at 11, I happily got the heck out of there."
"My dad used to work at a nursing home when I was little. He had a patient (resident?) that was a complete jerk. He was blind and wheelchair-bound. Every single day, he'd fight the nursing staff while they dressed him, fed him, and gave him meds. Dad usually saved him for last because he was always such a hassle. So one day, he walked in the patient's room with another nurse one morning and the guy was docile as a lamb. He was cooperative, he was nice, but he kept his face turned to one particular corner of the room. This dude was 100% blind but no matter which way they turned his chair, he kept his eyes on that corner. He kept repeating, 'Make sure you put me in a clean shirt, is this shirt clean? It has to be a clean shirt!'
Dad was like, 'Yep, sure ok,' while trying to hurry, expecting the dude to start being aggressive any second.
He was still calm and nice and stayed chill all day, but kept asking if his shirt was really good and clean. Dad asked him that afternoon, 'Why do you need to be in a clean shirt?'
The guy said, 'Mama says I have to be wearing a clean shirt or she won't let me go with her.' The nurse he was with that morning came hauling tail down the hall later that night to tell him the guy died. I guess that shirt was clean enough for his mama to take him. Spooky."
"I work under nurses and used to do night shifts at a residential home for patients with mental illnesses. This one guy was in his mid-20s and was born in Kazakhstan in 89. So he was two when the USSR fell. Needless to say, he grew up in an orphanage that was in a country with nothing. He had to fight to survive. His file had a history of really sad and horrifying stuff. He had A LOT of issues from it. PTSD, paranoia, impulse problems, nightmares, you name it.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, he would stand outside his room at the end of a pitch black corridor and stare at me silently at my desk with bulbous eyes, not saying a word. I would say to him, 'Hey, are you ok?' or, 'You know it's late and you should be in bed. You should go back to sleep.' Usually, after starting at me for about 5-10 more seconds, he would, without ever saying anything, go back into his room and shut the door. He always had terrible nightmares and a lot of trauma that ate him up. He was usually a nice guy during the day, but at night something came out of him that took over. He wasn't himself anymore and would a lot of the time stay up all night to avoid his horrible nightmares. The poor man had so many demons that just took over in the middle of the night. Creepy? Heck yeah. Also really sad? Definitely."
"I have heard that at the end of life, a previously deceased loved one sometimes comes to show you across the divide. It is actually part of hospice training.
I was ED of a small retirement home. The guy named Al, 97, had been there for ten years, long before I showed up. Great guy. His wife had fallen and broken her hip, so he arranged for them to move in once she rehabbed. They had married at 18 and had never slept apart before. She was getting better, so he made the move and prepared a place for his beloved bride. He hung a plaque next to the door that said 'Al and Edith Olafsen.' She died in rehab. He kept the plaque hanging there for ten years to honor his beloved bride who never saw the place.
Al did not show up for dinner one day and I went to check on him. I entered the apartment and there sat Al, in one wing chair, facing the other wing chair, which had been moved to face him. I asked what was wrong and he said, motioning to the other chair, 'She says she won't go to the dining room. I don't know what to do.' My blood ran cold, but I got it together and suggested he come on down and eat with the guys and I can do a room service tray for Edith. He looked troubled but got up and headed to the door. We got to the hall and he stopped and said, 'Julius, I am really worried about her. Would it be too much trouble to get us both room service so I can eat with her?'
I went to the kitchen and ordered two trays for #11, as Al had a guest. Chef asked who the guest was, and I said, 'Edith.' She teared up and made the trays.
We served them both three meals a day for three days, with Al getting increasingly concerned about his beloved bride not eating, despite his insistence. He'd sometimes argue with her right in front of me but she just wasn't hungry because she had been dead ten years. Then came the day that we all knew was coming. Sometime between dinner and breakfast, Edith took Al home to the place she had prepared for her dashing groom..."
"I work on a medicine unit and we get all kinds of dementia/delirium patients. One night, we had a woman, who was totally with it, say she needed to call her husband. We tried to talk her out of it because it was the middle of the night but she wouldn't let it go, so we let her. She told him she had to call because of the heart attack that was going to happen the next day. We told her she'd be fine, there was no reason for her to have a heart attack. Well, sure enough, the next night we came back and she'd had some kind of cardiac episode. She survived and has since been discharged, but we were pretty spooked when we found out it actually ended up happening."
"I was working a couple summers ago when the entire hospital was short staffed. They were offering double incentive pay ($20/hour on top of over time). The catch was you had to pick up through the float pool so they would assign you to any random unit that needed you. I got the call that I was to go to 7 South. After a lot of confusion and being turned away from 7 North, I found where I was supposed to go.
Apparently, the unit used to be the NICU/Newborn nursery before we had a children's hospital. But then it was abandoned and now it's just empty rooms with some cute baby colors on the walls. This unit had not been re-done, stocked, or even staffed, but that night it was being used as an observation unit for ER patients. There was no regular staff, protocols, or rules. The charge nurse was also a float pool nurse there for overtime. We had to call down to supply for IV kits and nasal cannulas because the storage room only had a few items and random baby stuff. The whole unit gave off a creepy vibe. Of course, I was working night shift as well.
We were using roughly 1/3 of the rooms available, so during some downtime, I was wandering around looking behind closed doors. I found many small empty offices with computer screens on, just illuminating the darkness. Creepy as heck. Another important thing to note: although the unit still had some baby supplies around, there were absolutely no children in the unit. We had an entirely separate children's hospital and there are strict rules that no children (visitors or otherwise) under the age of 12 are to be in the adult hospital after 9 pm. So there weren't any kiddos around.
Around 2 or 3 am, I was in my patient's room chatting for a little bit. My patient casually asks me if we also had kids on the unit tonight. I asked her why and she said, 'Oh, because I just saw the cutest little girl with blonde pigtails looking in here!'
Forget. That. Mess.
I told my charge nurse and she was like, 'Oh yeah, this unit is definitely haunted.'
I made bank working that shift, though."
"I worked at a nursing home for six years and we had a lot of creepy stuff happen.
I think the worst one for me was this little lady with dementia. She was seriously 'gone' minute to minute. And she would just moan and cry, these long drawn out, 'Helllllp. Help me. HELLLP MEEEE. Helllllp...' over and over. It wasn't screaming, but it was this loud, sad calling.
It didn't matter what you did, you could go and sit with her for an hour playing Uno or talking about her kids, but as soon as you left, she'd think she'd been alone for that entire time and the calls for help would start again. To combat it, we'd try to keep her out in a common area or next to the nurse's desk, but at night when we're trying to get her to sleep, it was important to keep her in her room.
So one night (11ish), it was me and one other person and we're just generally waiting for call lights to go off. Everyone was asleep or hanging out quietly in their rooms. The cries of, 'Help me,' started up and I headed to her room. She was sitting straight up in bed and calling for help because she'd been alone so long. 'You have to help me, you just have to.' Honestly at this point, it was pretty routine, although creepy to hear sometimes, so I calmed her down and promised that I'd be just outside her door and that she should try to sleep. She laid down and closed her eyes, so I headed back to the nurses' station.
At this point, I just want to interject that someone needs to be at the station at all times in case a call light goes on. I didn't want to leave my partner alone for too long in case someone called and she needed to tag-team.
Sure enough, I was only back at the station for maybe ten minutes when the calls start happening again. 'Someone, anyone, help me, help me! PLEEEEASE, help me.' I headed back to her room and repeated the process of calming her down and telling her she should try to get some sleep, then headed back to the nurse's station once she's settled into bed with her eyes closed.
Another short time went by, then the calls began again. I headed back to her room and was ready to soothe her with the usual routine when she grabbed my arm and pulled me close.
'Every time you leave the room, he comes back.'
Now, this woman usually forgets who I am even if she's seen me in the past five minutes. The creepy dialogue, plus the fact she knew I'd been there before absolutely sent a chill down my spine. I asked her who comes when I leave and she kept pointing towards a mirror above her little dresser.
'He comes back and smiles at me, but it's not the nice kind of smile.'
Needless to say, I packed her up and we had a little pajama party at the nurse's station that night."
"I'm a former CNA. I was working second shift and getting ready to go home. Before I left, I checked on the resident who had advanced Alzheimer's. She was mostly just a shell of a human.
As I walked over to her bed, she turned, looked right at me and said,'Do you hear that dear?'
We got quiet and I started listening. I could hear the family of the resident across the hall visiting and being loud. They were clearly in the resonating bathroom and there were several people laughing.
I put her back to sleep and went and poked my head in on the family get together. It was, after all, 9:30 at night and visitation ends at 8:30. I knocked twice and entered.
His light was off and he was asleep. Of course, I must be mistaken. I quietly left and checked the rooms on the left and the right. Nope. No family. No noise. One was watching TV and the other was a vegetable.
I never felt quite right after that."
"I had a near 100-year-old Holocaust survivor who was actively dying. She had not moved on her own in three days and was unresponsive as well. The client was receiving morphine palliative treatment every hour to ease any pain.
At 3 am, I went in to give her morphine and the room was dark. I only had enough ambient light from the hallway night lights to give the med.
The second I walked into the room, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I just felt like something was watching me.
I went to the bed and leaned down to give the medicine (drops under the tongue). Suddenly, the lady reached up with both hands, quick as a cat, and grabbed my arm. Hard. She pulled herself up to almost sitting up, looked me right in the eye, and said, 'He has come for me.'
Then she collapsed back down to the bed. I about pooped my pants. I walked right out. I was shaking.
It took me about 15-20 minutes to get it together. Then I forced myself to go back in because she still needed her medicine.
I walked in, still feeling the 'something' I'd felt before. I went to give the meds but the lady had already passed.
I felt like I was going to throw up right then and there."
"I worked as a janitor in a hospital.
I was cleaning out the patient restroom in an ICU/Palliative care unit when the patient asked me if she could just talk to me.
Being a nice guy and having been told to listen to requests of patients as long as it wasn't a medical request or in some way illegal or dangerous, I sat and waited.
Lady started speaking and it went from good English to a little slurred because of the stroke that had her in the unit. Then she started speaking in tongues, her voice getting louder, eyes wide with panic. The machines started going nuts and the nurses and other staff were in the room ASAP.
They asked me what she was doing right before the machines went haywire and I told them.
Turned she had had another stroke and it involved her Speech Center.
Still freaked me right the heck out."
"I'm an ED (Emergency Department) nurse now, but before my training, I worked in a nursing/elderly care home. This place was already pretty creepy - an old 3-story English Manor house that had been converted. The entrance hall looked like something out of The Shining. To add to this, the home was being closed down and was mostly empty, with only about five residents left on one floor and the power turned off to the top floor.
We had a couple of residents who liked to wander; one in particular with moderate dementia (let's call her Mabel) who was incredibly stealthy - sometimes you'd turn around and she'd be stood behind you, just staring. Hence locked doors in/out of the floor and hourly checks on the residents. Of course, one night shift at around 2 am, Mabel wasn't in her room when checked.
To be fair, this wasn't anything too far out of the ordinary - as I've said, Mabel liked to wander. So we went through the usual procedure of checking all of the accessible areas. She wasn't in any of the patient's rooms, wasn't in the common areas or the toilets. We were starting to get a little freaked out at this point as we'd covered everywhere she could possibly be.
On a whim, we checked all of the doors and found one of them unlocked - this door opened to a single staircase leading to the top floor. The entirely empty and powerless top floor. This place was already pretty creepy, and to top it off, we didn't have a flashlight (this was in 2002, pre-smartphones).
My colleague and I ended up creeping around the entire floor with just her zippo to light the way. We worked our way around almost the entire floor without finding anything. On opening one of the last doors, we were greeted by the sight of an amorphous white shape in the dark, wavering strangely and humming quietly. My colleague screamed and my heart rate jumped to about 150.
It was Mabel. Holding up a net curtain that she'd taken off the window in front of herself and waving it around.