PART ONE Chapter Three

WILL THE REAL POST OP NURSE PLEASE STAND UP

In 1976, I went to hospital for the first time in my life. As if in preparation for what was to come, in 1972 I awoke in the middle of the night in excruciating pain, right in the kidney. As I tried to nurse it along, it got worse. And then, as quickly as it came on, all of a sudden the pain stopped and that was it. The doctor surmised that I'd passed a kidney stone. So they ran several tests on me, some of which weren't very nice. They turned out negative; all clear.

One evening, in the fall of 1976, I got a premonition that I would be going to hospital. My reaction was something else. "What?" I was really apprehensive, particularly because I'd never been in one before, at least as a patient. But there it was, just like someone telling me, "You're going to hospital."

I was also nervous about how I was going to come to needing a hospital. Would it be an accident? Would I get sick? How bad would it be? And why me? You know, I can really see why people don't want to know their future sometimes. With something like that hanging over my head, I couldn't concentrate too well on other things. Always looking over my shoulder to see what was coming.

Well, I didn't have too long to wait for an answer. A couple of weeks after the premonition, I awoke in terrible pain. The worst I've ever experienced. And the answer was absolutely clear. It was another stone. Well, I tried to tough it out like I did the time before because I dreaded the thought of going to hospital.

Hour after hour, I hung on as the pain got worse, until finally I was told by my sister, a nurse, that what was going on with me was pretty serious and that I'd better get some help fast. I'd better get to a hospital.

So early that Saturday morning, I was checking into the Surrey Memorial Hospital. The pain was something indescribable. They gave me a shot of demerol and put me into a four bed ward. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, just nursing the pain.

I remember though, even through the pain, that as they brought me into the room, I was attracted to two of the beds, which were empty, as if they were targets. At the time though, I couldn't have cared less.

The next morning I passed the stone, so I began feeling much better. I told the nurse about it, and at the same time I enquired if my doctor had been notified when I was admitted. I was assured that indeed he had been. I wasn't feeling right about it though because since I'd been moved from emergency, no doctors had come to see me, much less my own family doctor.

Later that morning, the bed across from me became occupied by a young man who's ailment they couldn't determine. I overheard the doctors talking about this mysterious case across from me, and that they didn't know what was wrong with him. He was in one of the beds I had been shown the day before.

Monday morning came and I was feeling even better than Sunday. In fact, I'd forgotten all about the feelings I'd had to make contacts. The only thing I was concerned about was getting out of there and going home. I was really feeling cooped up. So I phoned Sharon and complained to her about it. That I was feeling pretty good, that no doctors had come to see me, and that I just felt stuck in there. She came back, "Look, when the reason for your being in the hospital is over, you'll be out. Just go back to your room," she said, "and see what happens."

I went back to my room and shortly after that a woman about 25 came in. She was visiting the patient beside me. We got to talking, just about things in general. But I knew she'd been targeted, so I got her name and where she worked for a future contact. Then I linked up with the guy with the mystery ailment. Then I was shown some of the staff there. Some doctors, nurses, and so on. All targeted for later.

The next morning, this is Tuesday now, I just happened to walk out of my room into the hall, and almost literally into my doctor. He was surprised to see me and asked what I was doing in there anyway?

"I checked in on the weekend," I told him. "Didn't you know?".

In short, nobody had notified him. Then he asked how I was feeling. He checked my records at the nurses station and turfed me out saying, "You're on your way, no reason for you to be in here."

Now, that was just fine with me, but the usual procedure is to notify a patient's doctor on admission. And they're supposed to let him know when the stone is passed. Not only that, but several times I'd been assured that my doctor knew I was in. You figure it out. I was kept there long enough to make the contacts and the targets, and that done, I was released.

Almost exactly a year later, in November of 1977, I again found myself in pain from a stone, and again, it was a weekend. So Saturday morning I was back in the same hospital again. I was in for two days, passed the stone after the first day and spent the rest of the time making connections. That time around I linked with seven people.

Now here's the rub. This time when I passed the stone, I noticed it was totally different from the others. Usually they're rough shaped with sharp edges. But this time the thing was shaped just like a kidney. I couldn't help thinking about the guides and their peculiar way of getting messages through. I have to admit, the joke wasn't lost, even if I wasn't mightily impressed with their sense of humor.

Three weeks later, again on Saturday morning, I was back again. This time though the trip was to be quite different. I would spend a week in there.

Again, early in my stay, I passed the stone. But it was so small that the doctors just couldn't believe that it was the whole thing. They figured that only part of a larger stone had come away. They decided that an exploratory procedure was necessary to make sure they got the whole thing.

"There's something still in the tube," the urologist told me, "we will have to go in and clean it out. I think we'll likely go in on Wednesday."

Now that was the last straw. Bad enough I have to come to hospital. But now they want to operate and I'd never had that done before, not even for tonsils. I didn't want the operation; most of all I didn't want to be put out with an anesthetic. The urologist explained that they insert a catheter type device that has a grabber on the end. They put it right into the tubes and if there's anything there, they just grab ahold and pull it out. Well, I wasn't very happy about it, but it seemed as if I had no other choice, so it was all arranged.

Meanwhile, in my guise of secret agent, I spent my time well, making more contacts. One of the people I hooked up with was the head chef for one of the major airlines.

One morning I was in the patient's lounge and I got to talking with a fellow. I thought, here's another contact, so I opened up to him. When I'd finished, I got my check mark form the story he told me in return. This man had been an officer on the British battleship HMS Hood. That's the one sunk by the Bismarck when a shell went down the stack and went off in the magazine. Fifteen hundred men died in one instant.

He told me that just hours before they were to sail, he was ordered to Plymouth. The captain was fond of him and offered to have the orders changed, but he turned down the offer. He felt somehow that he was supposed to leave the ship. Check!

Making contacts, it seemed, was really the lesser reason for my being in this time. On the evening before the operation I had a couple of visitors. The first was the ‘post op' nurse. She came in and told me all about the operation, what the procedure was and all that I could expect. They sort of clue you in so you don't worry so much.

"After the operation," she said, "you'll find yourself in the recovery room. That's where you'll come to. Don't worry if the surroundings seem strange. Just take a few deep breaths and that should help clear away any after effects of the anesthetic."

Her visit didn't do very much for me. I was feeling pretty depressed about the whole thing. In fact, I sort of felt that the whole thing would be a waste; that they wouldn't find anything. But I was stuck; trapped sort of, and feeling very unhappy about it.

Midnight came and I was still stewing about it when my second visitor arrived. I had just closed my eyes, and there in front of me was one of my guides. I could see him with my eyes closed. As soon as I saw him through, he zoomed up and touched me on the forehead. It was all too fast for me to react, but the next thing I knew, he took me somewhere else, like into another dimension. I don't remember much, but it was very, very pleasant.

When I came around the next morning, it was as if I'd been tranquillized. In fact, I was in such a state that I didn't even need the pre-op tranquillizer. I was already out of it, just naturally tranquillized, or should I say, supernaturally tranquillized.

So, off I went to the operating room, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a strange room. I wasn't alone. There were many others there as well, all unconscious. When the fog cleared away a little more, I realized that I was in the recovery room.

All that occured within seconds, because in reality I came around pretty quick. In fact, I sat up on the gurney, bolt upright. The nurses had to talk me out of getting out of bed.

When I was back in my room, I was talking to the nurse and asked her what they had found during the operation. She said, nothing. They'd come up with nothing. You know, my first reaction was one of anger. After all, I knew they wouldn't find anything. I knew it. I guess the part of me that took the biggest bruising was my ego. I sort of considered myself rather invincible. I'd never before been put under, and I wasn't very happy about it now.

On the spiritual side though, things were really cooking. During the week I was in hospital, I managed about thirty contacts, doctors, nurses, patients, specialists, you name it.

One night, after I had come home, while I was still recuperating, I had a dream. In it I was told very clearly why I'd gone the route in the hospital.

"Look", the guide said, "you are like the pre-op nurse. You go around preparing people for the operation. But until now, you had never experienced an operation where you were put to sleep in one place, to wake up somewhere else in strange surroundings. That's what your contacts will have happen to them. Now you know how they will feel and respond."

They were telling me that I wouldn't be taken into the pocket areas that way, the way most would. So I had to have the experience ahead of time in order to appreciate what would be going on. It's quite a striking analogy.