It’s almost 2 weeks since My Gorgeous Man had his little fecker of a gallbladder removed and you could say we’re getting back into the swing of normal life. Except it’s anything but normal. MGM is getting stronger but is still fragile… we’ve just received 3 requests for sales viewings of The Flat… and I’m now getting ready to head off to Spain to host my first two Channelling Love retreats.
But, let’s bring MGM’s surgical escapades to a close first. Because while he was still laid out on the ward, I had the weirdest of 36-ish hours. Looking back on it, I’m able to shake my head and laugh but I honestly couldn’t have made it up.
A good few hours after leaving MGM being prepped for surgery, I phoned the hospital to find out if he was back on the ward. It was only meant to be a routine surgery for them, maybe lasting 90 minutes. But my stomach hit the floor when they said he was still in recovery. Due back… but still in recovery. The nurse was cagey and I felt she was saying a whole lot more through her silence.
We later found out that it was one of the most difficult keyhole removals they’d ever done because his gallbladder was so inflamed and basically f*cked. Amazingly, the surgeons had managed not to fully open him up… but his recovery would be as if they had.
I ran Sir Maxelot round the block on his teatime walk, gave him some extra goodies, told him that I would be back and everything was going to be ok and headed straight back up to the hospital. And I sat in MGM’s empty cubicle waiting for him to reappear. It was horrible. And when he was wheeled back in on his bed, that was horrible in a whole new way too. All my empathic alarm bells went ballistic at once and I had to fight back the waves of trauma and nausea… and will my tears not to fall. Deep breaths, Sally, deep breaths. MGM really wasn’t there at all… so all I could do was hold his hand, and breathe. And try not to see his surgical drain, and bag of bloody fluid that was now right next to me.
He was in and out of consciousness and awareness, and after a couple of hours… he came round enough to say “Why don’t you just go home? You hate hospitals… and I’m not up to much here.’ My hunky, handsome hero… always thinking me. And in all honesty, I was relieved. He was in good hands. Plus, there was an upset furry baby at home and a good chance of some more ripped up duvet awaiting me.
So home I went.
There was no ripped duvet, and Sir Maxelot even came and sat with me on the sofa. Sitting next to you, without actually touching you, is his way of giving you a great big bear hug. More about Sir Maxelot another day… but I was so over tired, wrung out and strung out, that I can’t even remember much about what was left of that evening.
What I do remember was not being able to properly sleep… and having the weirdest most uncomfortable, ‘this is real’ dreams. You know the ones, where you have a full on deep dream and think you’ve been out for the count for 10 hours, but it’s only been 10 minutes. It was about 3am, when the hackles on my neck went up and a slow prickling terror seeped through into my body and my now fully conscious senses, and I was frozen with fear.
I knew exactly what was happening and I knew exactly what I had to do.
If you aren’t wuwu, psychic or believe in spirit… then you’ll find what happened next, a bit weird or unbelievable. But when I started this blog, I made a commitment to you, to tell it all, exactly as it is…. and I’m sticking to that. As a channel, what happened is part of my ‘normal’… but it may well be a world away from your normal, and that is perfectly OK.
That night, I had a rare psychic attack.
There was a dark presence… and it was in the hall looking right at me through the bedroom door. I don’t see spirit, but I have full on accuracy for sensing and knowing. My home is sacred space and normally, it is an energetically clear, super duper strong and high vibrational space. It’s many years since I’d experienced a lower vibration coming in and it just highlighted how out of sorts I was. I pulled every ounce of energy, light, strength, will power and Divine light into my body, put a 999 call out to my invisible team and the biggest, toughest, brightest security guards with feathered wings and took myself through my own process to clear my body and space.
It is horrible when this happens, but you have to step out of your FEAR and take CONTROL. Fear is actually your biggest challenge. It may shake you to the core, but it also shows you how powerful you are energetically, emotionally and spiritually.
These experiences generally come when you are opening up psychically… none of us like them, but it’s all part and parcel of deepening and strengthening our gifts and awareness. It’s an aspect of spiritual awakening that a lot of people (and teachers) don’t like to publicly talk about. Being psychic and empathic is not all about crystal balls, fluffy pink unicorns, air kissing and hippydippy love.
It’s real deal life as an awakened soul upon earth.
But just as I was slipping back into a semi-sleep, I was sure I heard a yelp.
I leapt out of bed and as soon as I opened the living room door he shot out of there like a bullet and ran through to our bedroom and jumped up onto the bed. We needed each other and as a very sensitive dog, he had most probably felt what was going on. He often comes to lie with me during my channelled healings as he loves soaking up the high vibes. He curled up at the bottom of the bed and we relaxed into each other’s security. Miraculously, his patched up and re-stuffed duvet was still in tact.
Fast forward 24 hours.
MGM had been moved onto a different ward… I still hadn’t slept properly. It had now been 4 nights in a row of practically no sleep and I was totally zombified, functioning on adrenaline and auto-pilot. Bizarrely, I had found myself posting a ‘raw & real’ inspirational post on Facebook… pulling the Divine Signs oracle card for myself (which means everything is fandabbydoo and Divinely guided) and sharing the message with the online world.
I was so out of it that morning, that I even answered my phone to a number that I didn’t recognise…
“Hello! I bet you didn’t expect to get this call?!”
You’re right, I didn’t. Who are you?
“It’s ******… remember me?”
Holy Feck, it was a guy who I had had my first couple of dates with back in my mid-teens.
“I found you on FB and saw that you’re moving to Spain… and…. and… and…“
I was confused.
This was just beyond surreal. He was happily chatting away and I was wracking my brains trying to figure out how he had found my number. The old me, would have politely chatted back, not wanting to appear rude. But, I just couldn’t get my head round this and I didn’t want to play. In the end I had to interrupt and say,
“Sorry, but My Gorgeous Man – you know.. the love of my life, my partner, my all (and I’m not quite sure why are you phoning me?) has just had emergency surgery and I’m not up for chitchats.”
Just what was the Universe up to? Was I missing something? But I was just too tired and beyond trying to figure stuff out.
So, onwards and upwards… another trip round the block for Sir Maxelot… more gravy bone bribes as I headed out the door and back to MGM on his new ward. The day before, I’d stood helplessly in the massive entrance and reception area of the hospital on the end of the ‘help phone’ trying to understand the directions I was being given on how to find my love through the maze of corridors.
Right now, it felt like MGM was on the other side of the world.
I was exhausted. And when I got to MGM, I could see he was exhausted too. The ward was busy. The nurses were busy. I moved the chair round to sit by his side and got ready to just read my book as he dozed. They’d removed the drain from his side earlier and it hadn’t been pleasant… and I felt the familiar sickening energy waves from the trauma, hit my solar plexus. Waves of awfulness kept coming but I breathed through it… after all, he was the one that had gone through it, not me.
MGM, was not in a good place and I knew something was up. It didn’t take him long to tell me that it would be better if I just went home. There’d been gossip, difficulties and politics in me coming to sit with him. Turns out that visitors weren’t really allowed on the Day Surgery ward, unlike the ward he’d been on before. Of course the other patients didn’t know that he was ‘resident’ and had been moved there to free up his bed. I wish someone had just told me.
I was mortified.
Deeply upset that I’d upset the staff that I’d been so grateful for. I fought back my over-tired tears. MGM was struggling, I was struggling. No need to make it all harder. So I closed my book, put the chair back on the other side of his bed, gave him a kiss and left. Tears were welling up and I was fighting them back. I went to the ward desk and said I was so sorry… I hadn’t known visitors weren’t allowed on this ward… and that I hadn’t meant to get in the way. I could hardly get the words out for fighting back the tears and the nurse just smiled kindly back at me, over the top of her glasses.
I made it out of the ward before the damn broke and crying won.
Truth is, I cried down the stairs, along the corridor, out the entrance, in through the other entrance, down the massive central halls, milling with people, nurses, doctors, patients heading out for a fags, porters, visitors and just way to many people. And I just couldn’t stem the flow. Nobody batted an eyelid and I was past caring anyway. It had just all been too much and I was finally letting go of everything. I cried my way round the strategically placed M&S food shop, chucking everything that I thought I wanted into the basket. Cried at the till. Cried as I paid. And cried as she wished me a lovely afternoon. I cried my way out of the building. Cried as I paid for the car park. Cried as I walked back to the car.
And when I finally got back into the car and clunked the door shut, I sobbed. And couldn’t stop sobbing. I mean, I really sobbed. Sobbed for everything and everyone. I felt so incredibly alone. I just wanted someone to hug me.
My ‘oh poor me’ self pity and inner victim were going into hyper-overdrive.
I found myself phoning a dear friend, even though I knew she was in the depths of work and probably wouldn’t even be near her phone… but miraculously she picked up straight away… and so I sobbed down the phone to her too. Literally unable to talk. These are true friends. She must have thought MGM had pegged it. She picked me up, brushed me down, distantly hugged me and sent me back out into the world. My eyes were swollen, my nose was running and I had no idea how much time had passed.
I glanced over my shoulder to see a queue of cars at the barriers and I knew it was time to leave. One more sniff… into reverse and round the one way system I went. When I got to the barrier I stuck my ticket into the machine and the red light started flashing. I couldn’t frikking believe it. And I started crying again. My ticket and payment had timed out.
By now there are other cars behind me waiting to be released. I pressed the intercom and heard my own pathetic crying voice say…
“Waaaah… my ticket’s timed out… I didn’t realise so much time had passed.” Sniff, Sniff, cough splutter.
Mortified that I might also be on camera, my vanity kicked in and I rubbed my wet cheeks dry and made a pathetic attempt at a hair flick.
“On you go love,” and the barrier opened.
I cried again… a voice with a heart.
Or a hospital parking attendant who couldn’t be arsed to collect another couple of pounds.
And so I started the drive home, with swollen eyes, a blotchy face, dishevelled hair and a body that just needed to sleep the sleep of Repunzle.
Then turning up the road just past Holyrood Palace, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was the one person I hadn’t wanted to see since moving back to Edinburgh… walking up the pavement in front of me, going in my direction and on my side of the road. And as the traffic was going so slowly, he ended up literally walking right beside me.
Of all the days.
I mean… c’mon Universe!
Give me a break… puleeeez!
Well, somebody upstairs did hear me, because amazingly, I wasn’t spotted. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I made it home and collapsed onto the sofa. About an hour later, MGM phoned and said he was being discharged and could I please come and pick him up.
But oh sh*t… the flat’s a mess!
Oh Sh*t… MGM really didn’t look well enough to be sent home.
Oh double SH*T… how am I going to look after him?
I did a mega quick deep clean to make his home coming as nice as possible and then crawled back into the car. By the time he was legally discharged, it was early evening and dark… and I had driven down several wrong roads with a multitude of confusing roadworks and parking cones until I found the pick up point. The automatic doors opened and I saw this hunched over figure, gingerly shuffling through them.
My Gorgeous Man. He was free and he was upright. Damn I love that man!
The journey home was painful. Very painful. In every sense of painful. Every bump, every movement, just everything hurt him… and I cursed Edinburgh council’s obsession for digging up its roads. I was worried that MGM’s release and my ability to innately find every bump and hole in the road was going to become his downfall. But we made it, and after a heartfelt reunion with Max, who homed straight in to sniff his abdomen, MGM went straight to bed.
And Max joined him.
The drama was over… and it was now time to heal. And that night, I finally slept. In the spare room. My unconscious habit of impersonating a nocturnal starfish, wasn’t going to be helpful towards MGM’s healing.
So there you have it.
And amazingly, MGM’s recovery is going to be far enough along for me to head to Spain to run the two November Channelling Love Retreats that I’d launched and sold out back in June. Because we’d thought we’d be living there by then!
I have to admit that I’m very, very excited about these retreats… small exclusive groups (at grounded, real deal prices) coming to the Alpujarra to relax into the healing vibes of my channelling and be soothed, revived and inspired by stunning mountain views, organic food and the space to just be.
These retreats will be at the heart of our new Spanish life.
So, come back next week to find out how everything is unfolding. I’ve still to tell you all about the synchronicity that guided us to the Alpujarra in the first place… and I promise there won’t be a gallbladder in sight 🙂
Top Tip for energetically cleansing your home:
White sage is the sacred plant traditionally used by the Native American Indians for energetic space clearing, ceremonies, protection and blessings. You can easily buy it online and in holistic shops. It comes as a bundle, and you just light it up so that it smoulders. Take it round each room and fan the smoke (traditionally with an eagle’s feather) into corners, around windows & doors and into all the nooks and crannies of your home. In your mind, hold the intent that the smoke is cleansing away any old & heavy energy, negative emotional and energetic residue and heavier vibrations.
And remember to waft the smoke around you too, to clear your yourself and your aura.
Make this a regular practice and you’ll soon notice the difference in how much lighter your home feels!