Saturday, April 4, 2009
The Waiting Room
Purgatory is the condition or process of purification in which the souls of those who die in a state of grace are made ready for heaven.
That's what the Critical Care Unit I visited this past week felt like: a processing center, a waiting room, a place beyond time and outside of "normal reality" where patients teeter between this world and the next. The patients themselves are utterly fragile, strapped in to their high tech beds, hooked up to monitors and intravenous tubes. There's so much machinery around them, so much stuff dripping into their arms, down their throats, that I couldn't help but immediately think about the Borg. That wasn't very compassionate of me, was it?
The electric hums, ticking, beeping and other rhythmic noise would drive me crazy over time. The patients are so out of it that it probably doesn't annoy them. I felt for the nurses, though, who are healthy, caring people. I can't for the life of me figure out how they do their jobs, day after day. Wow.
As it turned out the nurses seemed relieved to see me - don't know why. I didn't ask and they didn't offer any reasons why it was OK to break hospital rules. Maybe they do it all the time, I don't know. They left me with my client for about a half hour, watching, from the other side of the room. Who knows what his family told them. They seemed curious.
My client was already on the mend by the time I got there, breathing without the respirator, thank God, but he wasn't alert enough for normal interaction. I sat next to him for a few minutes, let my hand rest on one small square of his arm that wasn't hooked up to anything. I talked to him for awhile, the same way I talk to ghosts, I noticed. I can't remember what I said, but my tone of voice was congenial, I think. The whole time I sat there I could not locate his energy field, something that ordinarily is quite palpable and robust. Where was his energy? Maybe I'll never know.
When it felt right to do so, I stood up, traced the schematic pattern of soul retrieval over his body (three times just to make sure), after which I did some of my shamanic "dancing" - slow motion movements that I believe have an impact on energy flow, though - who knows? The nurses were very entertained and maybe that was the most positive effect of my visit. Cheerful nurses give better care, I bet.
My client will recover fully, they say. He's out of critical care now, in a regular hospital room. He is conscious, eating, speaking. It was a close call, but he's going to make it. Thank God.
Be well, ya'all. Stay out of critical care, you hear me? I mean it! OK.