CHAPTER 13
NOW IT’S GOING A BIT TOO FAST…
My heart is beating really hard…
I just got it! 3.0 It’s all this!
They want me to put all my photos and videos on the internet! My brother can help me with the web stuff, he is good at it, he has done some in the past.
For the rest, we will see later.
(Ok now I’m going to have a shower. My antennas are more receptive under the shower they once told me. I have no idea why that is though...).
And before I forget, they also told me:
IN CONCLUSION,
In the end (because it will come soon…),
Yes, there will be an end to all this.
Which is so important, now more than ever,
After all the pain we feel, inside and outside,
And despite all the hardship along the way,
The most important thing NOW is never to forget that…
THERE IS US AFTER THIS (LIFE)!
It hit me like a ton of bricks.
I remained with my eyes closed, for one minute, one hour, I don’t remember, I kinda lost the notion of time.
They keep on telling US (my brother has joined us now, he has a major role to play in this they confided in me), that for them time is irrelevant to them, they can see the past and the future at the same times apparently… Maybe for a few seconds, I was sort of with them in some way?
Thank you, my Lord!
What is that thing I am living?
It’s like we have joined this celestial mission which will require all our future efforts!? I should be totally horrified, scared to death and yet, it feels like I waited all my life for this somehow. My brother said the same when I told him about it.
Those last five words, I didn’t invent them…
And it wasn’t like my usual inspired writing either.
I SWEAR TO GOD!
No. It is rather after they inspired me to write their conclusion,
I felt something else right after I wrote the first 3 letters of the word “hardship” that THEY wanted to write, it literally felt like they took over the pen AND WROTE THE REST” The handwriting changed right then.
I kept the original as proof.
I didn’t know what to do anymore so I let them continue, but after the next word,
I was literally pushed back onto my chair!...
Then, as if I was guided by an invisible force, I deposited onto the paper, word by word, not letter by letter… very slowly as if to mark the greater significance of this last phrase, almost caligraphically, word by word, that phrase appeared,
As if it had landed from heaven...
It was literally as if I was giving birth to each word, in excruciating pain! I couldn’t see nor feel what I was writing, my eyes were almost fully closed but I knew it was on major significance, as if I was dying a little which every word I was birthing.
Time felt like it stood still, it felt like it was rock pellets I was dropping on my page. Wholly rocks (St. Peter?).
If I could possibly convey the feelings I felt right then, well CNN or those continuous news channels would run out of space and there would never be anymore wars on this planet!
I was overwhelmed right then.
I couldn’t keep it onto myself!
So I called my then mother-in-law and explained the whole thing to her from that time I was once kicked out of the hospital. She listened to the whole thing…
It happened a while ago, the time I was at the hospital for another one of my many stays, and I had just received my blessing to leave from the doctor in charge.
I was then offered a fairly substantial dinner (for a public hospital) which was accompanied by a copious dose of morphine, and no mashed potatoes this time!
Right after, I asked the three nurses on the floor (or were they orderlies?) if I could just sleep for a bit until my husband arrived, as I was literally falling from total exhaustion…
(It could be a little while since it was a Friday afternoon. Morning, the bridges aren’t that bad but at night? By the way, where do all those cars come from exactly if in the morning it’s not too bad, I wondered?”).
... « Of course, madame B, do not worry!! » they told me in unison.
Except for the fact that, a few minutes later, a lady entered my room in a storm and informed me that my bed was needed by another incoming patient and therefore I had to leave immediately and wait at the cafeteria!
So, I had to leave subito presto with my pieces of luggage, my adult nappies, my breathing apparatus, filled to the rim, sick as a dog and fully dosed with morphine! Go on woman, take off and wait for your lift elsewhere!
Sign of my destiny, I then received a call from by “legalized drug provider” who called me as I was entering the cafeteria, to remind me of how much I owed him… That was the nail on the coffin for me that night (dammit, is it that much? Really?!).
Science fiction my life I told you. I really must write a book about it!
Well she then told me quietly that pain wasn’t a big seller these days. Maybe she was right but with that last message, the whole outlook had changed. We are talking about HOPE here and SAVING ONES SOUL, AREN’T WE?...
So, what do you suggest I do then?
Do I send my book to a psychiatrist?
Or Oprah? What am I thinking? As if there was a chance in hell that she would ever get a chance to see my work… She must have a dozen assistants which filter all of her mail for sure! There is no way it would ever get to her! What if I go see her show live?
I am still in choc after what happened to me just then.
It certainly isn’t something that everyone gets to experience…
Can anyone understand me?
Should I confide in a Saint perhaps?
Except for Brother André who just became a saint, who else do we have in Québec? My own husband’s father was healed by this holy man at the Oratory. My Grandma on my mom’s side told me about him once and the march of thousands of pilgrims who marched behind him at his funeral…
I remember buying a while ago, a book about his life story. The pages were thick and yellowed by the passing of time. I had to tear some of the pages apart as if it was a treasure I had to free. Brother André is now a Saint.
In Québec, everyone knew that it was unavoidable.
Because I am, more than ever, convinced that there is a life after death. How can it be otherwise?
After all, I have been talking to beings from the other side for years.
I have been on the edge of death more time than I can count them (I even saw my life pass in front of my eyes once…).
Many times, my parents were told I may not make it through the night… And yet, here I am against all odds.
Not to forget the countless conversations I have put on paper over the years with entities I knew and others I didn’t.
Examples of manifestation from forces beyond our reality abound:
chairs, glasses and tables moving by themselves (all witnessed by third parties), radios turn themselves on or off, my mobile phone ringing and the number which appears is my own, caresses and kisses, doors closing by themselves, I have witnessed on many occasions.
Therefore, I now testify, right here, right now, I (name, family name), (now) sane of body and mind, well as good as it could be on that faithful February day as I just came of the hospital and last smoked at 7am so 6 hours away meaning that the adversive effect is pretty much gone)…
…I hereby testify that these two documents are fully authentic.
Well, with the possible exception of when I state numbers, they might not always be fully accurate… Considering the number of times I have lost about 20 kg and pilled them back on… who can keep track? And I already admitted numerous times that I was really bad with numbers…
Or maybe my scale is somehow defective?
As for everything else, I swear that everything I have written is absolutely true. Not only my life story but most importantly, all my conversations and messages with the angels.
My most crucial tasks is, first and foremost, to deliver, in their name, possibly the most important message ever which has been written directly from their hand.
But to do so,
I must implicate what I have which is very precious to me:
My friends. They haven’t chosen that I expose like this parts of their life, but if I don’t proceed with it, it won’t just be me and my gang which are going to be exposed without knowing but millions of individuals who will not only suffer from not believing in a life after this one but the implications from a refusal to believe might, this time, might very well be a decision which could affect your future forever…
Oops!
I just realized that I swore a bit so far to amuse the gallery! Well, what do you expect (Quebecers have historically been controlled and repressed by the catholic church for so long, hundreds of years in fact, that the natural reaction, as to help us cope with it, has been in later years, to avoid church all together… and swear like a sailor!
And the latest trend with our stand-up comedians these days is to use and overuse it for added comedic effect (contrarily to what I said earlier, I very much love our “humoristes” (stand-up comedians). I learnt so many swear words I didn’t even know existed by listening to them…
“L’école Nationale de l’humour” (Québec’s only recognized school solely dedicated to humour, founded in 1988) is probably the only post-secondary private school I didn’t go to…
Pity really!
I remember, a while ago, sending a tape to “Québec’s funniest video” once.
It started with a woman seen from behind, doing a belly dance while languorous music is playing in the background. But, when she turns around, we turn out to be pregnant.
Then, I was describing my son’s delivery… I don’t remember the many jokes I was telling but here is the story as I lived it…
May-June 1993. I looked like a beached whale.
We were experiencing a rare heatwave.
It was soooo bloody hot at the time that I squatted at my uncle’s pool (he is a doctor; his wife was a head nurse).
Since I didn’t have air conditioning at the time in our round house, we decided to move down to the basement where we installed a large bed, perfectly adapted for the sundried hippo I had become.
Yet, I loved being pregnant. Sometimes, I was playing a game while I was procrastinating in the sun, where I was hovering my hand over my belly to make some shade on my belly to get baby bump to react. I thought it was cute and it gave me a chance to converse with him.
9 june 1993. The Montréal Canadiens won the Stanley Cup (which happened to be the last time a Canadian team won since…).
I cried so much!
I was eating “team coloured” lollies while watching dumb kids breaking shop windows in order to steal anything they could in the store as a memento of the event. Well, I got so sick from overeating those damn lollies that I got sick from it.
So sick in fact that never has my son tried one of those wicked things since then…
Days later, I BLOODY WANT TO GIVE BIRTH NOW DAMMIT!
Listen to me little one.
I am quite fed up with you over extending you welcome in my belly! I feel like I am about to explode you little…!
There is a bloody limit to the extent that you can over inflate my belly for crying out loud!
Please stop before I blow up!
Please!
Either you come out peacefully or I make you come out you little… You are not yet out that you are already showing me that you are just as stubborn as your dad. But hang on little bundle, you have no idea how much more stubborn your loving mama can be…
I told your sperm donor, leave me in St. Jérôme’s city centre, I will walk to the local shopping centre near where your mom lives.
Well, the dude knows my back and my Prego lady’s hormones who doesn’t know what she wants anymore because…
well, he followed me the whole way to her house. I didn’t really walk far until I climbed back into the car.
Her mom was living on the second floor, enough stairs to induce false contractions at the hospital that night.
July 18: I was at my mom’s house playing cards. She wanted to show me how to play Canasta because she had her own contractions when she was pregnant with me.
She taught it could somehow trigger my own contractions. We were counting the minutes between each one. Then nothing.
« Try a bath! » she said. Hot of course.
Mama!
We were both in her pink bathroom, her on her knees in front of me who realised with amazement that my water just broke!
Quick, call the father who was at work at the time.
No more sick days for the rest of our life! Hurry up man, the baby is on his way this time, whatever it costs! My mom doesn’t know how to swim bloody hell!
When I arrived at the hospital with beach towels between my legs, we made our way to the birth unit…
The lady at the counter welcomed us with:
“Hi. What is it for?”.
“I want to buy shower curtains of course!”.
We all laughed. So did little bump.
My contractions immediately stopped right then!
The next day I was induced.
There is no choice apparently. When your water breaks, the baby must come out right there and then.
I got into a private birthing room.
Good start.
With the state of Québec’s hospital system, I thought I could as well end up giving birth in a corridor somewhere…
“Peaceful!” I thought. Won’t stay for long. I’ll soon resume my contractions and then all hell will break loose…
Well it didn’t remain quiet for long. A cavalcade of people started parading into my room. It was relentless. I was expecting the metro (subway) any second while at it…
Well, no time to get bored, I guess.
“How much further does he bloody have to enter his hand to finally conclude that I was open enough” I reflected.
The father finally arrived.
He didn’t stay long however.
Too busy with other engagements.
He is devoted to helping underprivileged teens. Well he is in luck since in the bed next to me there was a young girl who was also getting ready to give birth. Still a teenager, she was. No boyfriend at her side however. Hopefully he didn’t bolt when she told him she was expecting…
Sad. At least I had my mom and the father to assist me.
We have been involved from the very start, the father and me, with welcoming into our house wounded young souls get back on their feet. We only welcomed guys though. I found it hard to see him devote more attention to them instead of me, I must admit.
Right now, I really would have liked to hold the girl’s trembling hand to help her cope with all this, and to give me strength as well, I guess. I would gently stroke her hair like my mom used to do every time I would need comfort and reassurance.
But when you have a football in your belly and have been induced,
you are quite limited with your movements. No bath, no toilet trip. And no chance of having an epidural, I was way too worried to become paralyzed, especially with all my spine problems…
Even though, sometime, I feel like I am certainly not that far away from it… Therefore, it was by sitting down on the cold hospital floor with my back resting on the cool wall that I was going to tackle the upcoming pain…
“At least for the last little while, my back pain is going to be less noticeable” did I reflect.
At that time, the other grandma entered the room.
“You look so pitiful poor girl! I cannot watch this!”.
And that was that.
She left the room crying and didn’t come back until baby was out…
Luckily, my mom was with me to hold my hand, while the father just finished comforting the young girl who now looked like she was more ready than me. He now went for a cigarette…
My doctor was Vietnamese. He used chopsticks to burst the rest of my sack,
I think. Can’t really much from my current vintage point,
I must say. Good. Each time I saw him during my preparatory appointments, he made me panic by saying:
“You will give birth to a giant dear madame!”. “You must be careful not to eat too much!”.
To say the truth, I don’t think I ate that much.
Except for lollies to which I was addicted for the first couple of weeks, I didn’t really put on much weight. As a matter of fact, after giving birth, I was weighing less than before I got pregnant. I guess I did give birth to a giant after all.
When he saw the colossal father, he knew right away he immediately knew he the dad.
Ok, now the little bub is on his way.
Then, during the last contractions, the doctor yelled:
“Stop!”. “No not you…
her! Breath!”.
He was talking to my mom who was suffocating. Then, she was red as a fire truck… as she was squeezing his arm, as if it was somehow helping the process…
Then, during a particularly strong contraction which made me tilt forward, I noticed that they had brought a mirror which was conveniently showing, well, you know…
Right at that moment, I saw a kind of ostrich egg with hair slowly moving out…
“It’s a BABY!” I finally exclaimed, as if I just came out of a dream and realized what was happening…
“What were you expecting? A new car?” Joked the father who was now in the room.
When the “egg” popped out, my first thought was the one where the football player caught a baby falling from a building then yelled “touchdown” which I once saw somewhere…
Bit random but hey, my birthing, my flashbacks thank you.
Although here, I was praying that the doctor wouldn’t drop that slimy ball… Then we quickly called grandma number 2 to come in in order to witness his very first scream. And unfortunately, just one of many, many more to come (sic).
And for those who wonder, no I don’t recall the pain I went through,
(even though I am quite accustomed to pain by now).
They say that at that time, the body secretes a hormone which makes you forget the pain…
Hey, maybe they can now synthesize that hormone!
(Otherwise, no one in their right mind would have another one?).
Talk about a perfect creation big fella. You thought of everything I must admit!).
All we need is to see this little bundle of life in the eye to immediately forget every sorrow: I have just delivered a new living being into the world, an extension of myself which will carry me into the next generation!
At that moment, I would have had another 100. My first one was a “pill baby”. And I lost it.
Then, we tried for 5 years to make the 2nd. We were separated before the 3rd.
Yet, it is truly a marvelous experience.
I somehow pity those who decide not to have any kids…
Who knows how it could positively change their view of life…?
Then again, there are women who live a perfectly happy and content life without. I guess it is a very personal choice after all…
It was especially surreal the very first time he turned towards me with arms wide open, no one else, to supply him with his very first meal.
“Dammit! It didn’t work!”.
***
6:29pm. My friendly pusher just delivered 11 reefers for the week…
Already rolled and conveniently placed outside my front door in the bucket containing de-icing salt for the front steps which we had left there all summer.
Yet, that day, I left him a message on his answering machine begging him to help me stop by not delivering anymore of them wicked sticks…
(in retrospect, he probably wasn’t the best person to ask but hey!).
He called me later that day:
“Madame B”, (that is how he actually always called me…)
“Sorry I am a bit late but I didn’t listen to your message until now…
He convinced me that it could be beneficial if I only used it once in a while, when the pain is too intense, I should be able to spread it over several weeks… Conveniently, these days, with my current pain killers, I am in less pain.
And since I am really busy with writing my book these days, I won’t be tempted to use them anyways…
(Well I haven’t smoked since 7am this morning).
I now feel that I now must use every bit of paper I can find in order to explain or more specifically justify who I really truly am now, with every bit of my past experiences which I have shared with you sort of “live” , without cameras however …
(if I only knew…).
I probably should have called Xavier Dolan, the new “enfant chéri” (prodigy) of the local movie scene.
He has risen so rapidly in the last few years by winning at the Cannes Film Festival that he might very well become the next Quinton Tarantino…
Imagine what a surreal tragedy my life story would have become with his overactive imagination… A mix of Mommy dearest maybe with bits of Pulp Fiction style over the top scenes. Way more entertaining I guess than my little boring life but hey they asked me to go through this healing journey through my past along them for a reason so be it…
But today, after everything that just happened, I don’t know. I guess we must be careful about what we wish for in life…
***
As I came home from my last visit to the hospital, I now have a whole new selection of pills to attend to my area of physical problems, the latest one being a new chest pain which currently outshine my other permanent ailments.
(I guess Vladimir was right. I just listened to my first visit with him where he told me that, as it does for him, when I start using my gift on a regular basis for missionary purposes, I am bound to feel less pain…).
So, in my head that day, the minute I stepped through the front door, despite the fact that I was half dead and suffering from a brand-new ailment, well, in my head I was now fully healed…
They had finally found the promised “optimal cure” which would finally effectively reduce my pain down to a manageable level, after all the unsuccessful surgeries which failed each time to minimize my pain but continuously made it worse (I have so much metal in my spine and my limbs that each time I go through the metal detector at the airport, it lights up like the 4th of July every time!).
Therefore, less pain meant more time to work on my book. Which I did, from that very Friday 1pm (I my bed).
Then sitting at the kitchen table from Sunday morning until today. Somehow, the pain to my chest and my ribs is less palpable this Monday morning at 5am.
At that time, I saw an ever faint but visible light at the end of the tunnel. I was ready to eventually send my Resume to Lord knows who.
I was full of ideas; I was ready to share them with world if my body would just let me…
Yet, I have doubts.
I certainly wouldn’t want to lose my previous life with my son and my beloved husband, my family and friends which I love dearly.
Now that I am totally dedicated to that mission which I accepted freely, it was yet imposed to me and my brother and we must now continue relentlessly until its full completion.