Assistance

I'm realizing a blog is an everyday affair and somewhere in a day I have to make time for it.

In order to do that I have to shorten my blogs, so here goes.

Took a drive to an area of the State (Ohio) that I've never been to.

Working with a Cherokee woman of the old ways (Grandmother Parisha) for two decades, I was taught to call on all of nature for assistance. So before I started my journey I called to the winged ones to assist me.

While driving the freeway I saw a hawk over the median strip about 1 1/2 miles away. I slowed down as I was driving about 80 to 85. Sure enough, about 2 miles down and out of site was a police cruiser. That hawk saved my butt.

As I got closer to my destination I began to realize that I had no idea how I was going to find my contact, an Amish man who is well-known for his healing expertise using Reflexology. I often travel to study with people who can teach me various techniques and I had heard about him from some of my patients. He lived in a remote area in central Ohio. Remote was not the word. Some of the roads looked like shallow lanes or footpaths. Back in 1999 I hadn't even heard the term GPS so I was on my own.

After exiting the hiway the 'roads' in among the hills and farmland were marked by hand-made signs that could be overlooked because one is not used to seeing roadsigns stuck in the ground.

I renewed my request for assistance.

As I was traveling a bit more slowly and trying to follow the directions I saw a flock of birds on my left that flew directly across the road to the right. As I got to where the birds had been I saw a road sign that I would have surely missed had the birds not alerted me to it. It was the road I was looking for in the directions. Could it be possible that the birds were assisting me? Hmmm.

I turned right on the road and drove for about a mile, again questioning if I was headed in the direction I was supposed to go. At once, a bird flew right in front of my car and straight down the road I was on. It just flew, as if leading me, saying 'follow me!' I trusted that what was happening was real, so I followed.

Somewhere up ahead, a car turned in front of me going very slowly. I was a little miffed because I had been making good time and now this person was slowing me down. It wasn't until he turned, very s.l.o.w.l.y. that I saw the 'road sign' on my right, stuck in the dirt. It was the road I was supposed to turn onto that was on the directions in my hand. Had I been going faster I would have flown right by it without seeing it.

The car turned off and I was once again alone on the road. "Where to now?" I questioned. Once again, a winged one appeared across my path to the right. I slowed down. It was the address I was looking for.

I had arrived. Both physically and with a sense of knowing I was never alone. I had been assisted to my destination by the feathered beings. Thanking Grandmother Parisha for having taught me to trust the all that is, I enjoyed my day.

Note: About 2 months later a friend accompanied me to the Amish healer. When we got to the 'lane' that was the first road, once again a flock of birds alerted and assisted us to find the obscure path. When he saw the birds fly across the road he said, "if I hadn't seen it I never would have believed it."

Shamanism

Perhaps not by chance have I had shaman training beginning with Grandmother Parisha back in the '80's. We were at Topsail Beach, North Carolina and I was excited because I wanted to learn about healing in the old ways. We were taught that the word 'medicine' means 'balance'. Move into situations of imbalance and balance them, then move out. We were warned that this work could be dangerous, but we were young and didn't care. What could be dangerous about entering into spirit? Yes, we were young.

Grandmother Parisha is the ultimate teacher of shamanism and I was honored to be with her. I had been with her for many years and had 'danced' her (meaning: tested her teachings) until I was sure she was who I thought she was. When all that was settled, I allowed enough trust to let her in, to teach me.

Shamanism is not something you enter into without a teacher. In Grandmother's case she had much to offer, a lineage of medicine people waiting to assist in an invisible line of wisdom carriers that extends all the way back to the beginning of hu-man. Young and stupid we all were. We went into places she had warned us not to go and then we had to learn how to deal with what was brought back, having attached itself to us. Over the years she would whip us into shape with verbal back-lashings, love, humor and more patience than anyone I've ever met.

The real deal came with the death of a loved one. Car accident. In shock, I enlisted the help of a friend who has extraordinary insight in the spirit world. She did the job but she didn't have the training I had taken for granted. There can be no weakness in the other worlds and this beloved came back broken under pressure. My first big lesson. Don't send someone else to do what I can do and have been trained to do. Never estimate that someone else is better or stronger than you. I've had to learn many things the hard way; by experience. Many people talk a good talk learned from various sources but experience is always the best teacher.

And Grandmother certainly had the experience. She trained us for the things to watch out for and how to act instead of react. Still, there are no guarantees in any of the worlds that you will always get out intact.

So it was up to me. I put aside my grief of having lost Susan and visited myself upon the gates known as 'death doors' to show her the way. I had no idea I could do this until I did it.

All the while I could hear Susan telling me to 'call her mother'.

I did not know Susan's mother well. I'd met her at various occasions. The birthdays of my nephew, maybe three out of the six that he'd had, maybe a Christmas or two. We would exchange pleasantries. I knew I liked her.

But to call her to say I had gone to the spot where Susan had died and led her out of that darkness? Who could believe such a thing.

Susan was relentless. Within three days she was literally nagging me to "call my mother".

I dialed the phone and her mom picked up. I asked how she was and offered my condolences.

We exchanged pleasantries and hung up.

Susan had heard. "CALL MY MOTHER!" I was embarassed that I had let her down. I dialed the phone again.

This time her mother and I connected. My way in was that she loved astrology. We spoke about the stars for awhile and what little knowledge I had of astrology stole my way into Susan's mother's heart. I explained that Susan and I were in touch and that her daughter was ok. It was her daughter that had demanded that I call her. She spoke and her words were of hope and the faint light of healing. "You don't know how much better I feel knowing that her spirit won't be left under a car on the side of the road. It was my worst nightmare. Thank you." How could I have doubted that I could make a difference?

I worked with Susan all that week. On the last night I moved in spirit and saw Susan become a burst of brilliance as her being became a star. No other way to explain it. I called her mother right away. She said, "how remarkable is that! I was just standing on the patio looking out at the stars on this clear and beautiful night and I saw a shooting star and I just knew it was Susan. I am at peace."

This experience strengthened my resolve. I could do this work. Why not? Everyone has a job they're good at. With more experience I may even grow to like it, as sad as it is.

I've worked with others who have gone on to the other side. As yet, none so sad as a 15 year-old who hung himself. How do you shake the spirit of a stupid boy. It was the only time I cried on returning to this world. But one has no time for judgements. There is too much work to do.

Percussion

Ever since "The Ordeal" has been over I find it difficult to listen to music with a lot of percussion or drumming. When I mentioned this to a friend she said, "well, that makes sense. Think about what your body has been through in the last few weeks. Didn't they pound the heck out of that stone in your kidney?" Yes! To the tune of hitting it 3,000 times with laser while it bounced around each time it was hit. I never thought of that. I couldn't figure out why most music I'm listening to these days is bothering my senses. I always listen to the regular stations that play rock or country. The country, most of it, wouldn't bother me but the rock, even some classic rock, would make me shudder. I would quickly turn it off. Makes me wonder if my body is still holding onto the experience of literally 'being rocked'. In any case, I can't tolerate drumming and percussion very well right now. And I'm going to a Sun Ceremony where drumming is all day long. I'll let you know how that works out.

The “Ordeal” came very suddenly one weekend and it was found that I had a large kidney stone that had to be crushed with laser called “lithotripsy”. Once that was done a stent was placed to allow the crushed stones to be passed. Since I didn’t know what kind of questions needed to be asked about stent placement, I overlooked that part and just blindly had the stent placed from the bladder to the kidney, through the ureter.
Within a day I was in agony.
I still didn’t know what to expect so I just accepted that pain would be part of the procedure. Wednesday, the day after placement of the stent, I was fine. Thursday, Friday and Saturday I was in enough pain to be taking Vicodin all day long. Since you must eat when taking the Vicodin because if you don’t you have the added side-effect of nausea, I was eating more than I could stand. Pain and eating don’t go together, in case you’ve never had the experience.
By Saturday night I was pacing, which is what I do when in agony.
By 10:30 Saturday night I was ready to throw in the towel and go to the emergency room when all of a sudden everything stopped. The pain disappeared. I was so relieved. I would be able to sleep peacefully.
It was the calm before the storm.
By 8:00 Sunday morning I realized I’d slept the whole night without incidence. I was so relieved. By 8:10 I felt pain in my left side. What could be doing this? Stones that had been blasted apart shouldn’t be bothering me with stent placement. I had called the doctor and told him of my misery and he said if it was still a problem to call and come in on Monday. Well, that was tomorrow. I didn’t know if I could wait.
By 10:00 I knew I couldn’t. The level of pain went from agony to excruciating and I wanted to just pass out. I kept pacing.
I called the doctor at 10:15 and we connected a half hour later. He told me he could do nothing and to go to the emergency room.
I didn’t collect anything but my purse with all the info on insurance in it. I made it to the door and told the man who lives here I needed to get to the emergency room. I was delirious with pain.
He finally got into the car and we backed out of the drive. It was a long agonizing trip to the E.R. that took approximately 10 minutes. It felt like 10 hours.
We burst into the E.R. in a flurry and someone brought a wheelchair. They had me on a gurney in no time pumping morphine into me. I later learned it took 12 mg. of morphine to stabilize me. After transferring me to another hospital where they could take care of my problem I was told they would only give 3 mg. of morphine a day so I knew I was in a tremendous amount of pain. Slowly, the pain subsided. The people there were wonderful and knew what they were doing. My experience with the moaning police was the only downside. When in extreme pain, I find it helps if I let out a moan. Apparently there are people who don’t think that is necessary. The nurse who put my IV in wanted no noise and told me the ‘noise’ wasn’t needed, ‘just breathe’. I hadn’t the energy to tell her how inapropriate her comment was. I just moaned.
Two very nice people transferred me to SouthWest General, a hospital I’d heard much about but had never had the pleasure of their services. Indeed, they were a better than average hospital. Excellent care, excellent staff. Everyone so friendly, so cordial, so willing to help. I especially loved Britt. An energetic 20-ish, tiny, platinum blonde and so sweet. Her mom and grandmother had worked at the hospital before her. When she wasn’t doing physician assistant work she was helping special needs kids. No time lost with her. Young and knew where she was going already.
The pain was gone, thanks to drugs. The stent had to come out. Hadn’t seen the doctor as yet. Agonized over the decision he wanted me to make to have another stent placed. Couldn’t do it. After going through so much agony with the first one, didn’t want to have another one to go wrong again.
Did what I usually do in this type of instance. I withdraw and go deep within.
I saw an old one talking to me. He picked up a stone and it turned to sand. “Nothing left”, he said. “Do nothing”.
That was my message. There was nothing left to work with. Nothing more was needed. How to tell the doctor?
He finally came in to my room and caught me in tears. “What are you feeling right now?” He pulled up a chair and spent time with me. Much needed time. The stent had come down, out of the kidney and was lodged in my ureter. That was where all the pain came from. I was literally trying to pass a stent. I was terrified of having the procedure he would do in less than an hour. “What do you want to do?” “Nothing” was my reply. “I can’t put myself through another stent. I know there will be pain without the stent. I’m in between a rock and a hard place. Anything I do won’t matter. I’m screwed either way.” He laughed. I said, “I can’t make this decision. You’ll have to make it for me. “ He said, “go with the stent.” I wanted to cry some more. I said, ‘you call it’. He said, “I’ll see you in 45 minutes.”
The operating room was a beehive of activity. Nurses and doctors and staff help everywhere. The anesthesiologist intro’d himself and made me feel comfortable. Very nice and quite capable. Finally, they came to get me. I gave myself over to the only thing I had left. Trust. I told the doctor, “I trust you.” That’s the last I remember before waking up with an oxygen mask over my face.
The nurse on my left was monitoring my recovery. When I was fully awake, she said, “the doctor pulled the stent, went in and found nothing there, so he didn’t place another stent. We’re releasing you from recovery, you can go home.”
I was incredibly relieved. “Do Nothing” came back to me, and indeed, nothing had to be done.
I wanted champagne. I wanted a banana split. I settled for a hamburger with the works.