(Friday, May 24, 2019) waning gibbous moon Aquarius, tarot five of pentacles
I’m not sure how to write about the last two days. The waking and sleeping dreams seem related.
Chris had day surgery yesterday at HCMC on the top floor. We walked into a large, empty lobby with floor-to-ceiling windows along the full east wall. I could see that the hospital helicopter landing was directly across the street and I pointed that out to Chris.
After they rolled Chris into surgery and I was sitting in the lobby listening to a podcast, I saw a huge helicopter hover over the hospital rooftop. It definitely was not a traffic copter. It circled slowly over the landing and I saw its North Memorial logo. A few minutes after the rotary blades shut down, a door opened at a small, rectangular tower near the helicopter base. Six healthcare workers started walking toward the air ambulance and were greeted by perhaps that many EMTs exiting the copter. The EMTs rolled a child-sized gurney into the opened door, which must have been an elevator tower: delivering a child in need to a Level 1 Trauma Center. That made me very sad. I soon found out that Chris’ procedure had failed, so we rescheduled for another surgery on June 13.
I had very little sleep before the procedure and even less following. Last night was full of dreams that made me feel I was working hard all night. Then Lola started begging for breakfast at 4 am. After I fed her I fell back into long, restricted sleep paralysis. There was strong pressure on my lungs and heart. I struggled and struggled to move, with no success. At one point, my dying coworker Cyndi appeared in my dream. She was glowing. I have been thinking lately of the experience of my last visit with passing Mama Kay, when she was visibly luminous. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, I escaped my paralysis.
When I checked emails this morning, the first thing I saw was a Caring Bridge update on Cyndi’s decline. It seemed like a final entry. A spiritual poem was posted about the river of death. I sent Cyndi a message thanking her for visiting me in my dream.
Somehow, the helicopter and Cyndi’s dream visit are related. She is small enough to fit in a child-sized gurney. Perhaps she was trying to soothe me a bit after the horrid day at the hospital. Two doctors are suspicious that Chris may have colon cancer. He’s down to 153 pounds.