Welcome Back!

Pause for Covid

Well, we finally got it. Covid. It was pretty bad. My husband has missed three weeks of work, which put a dent in our finances. His case was bad, but not horribly so. Mostly, he just sat in his living room chair and read or watched YouTube videos. He’s into British history and loves watching folks crawling around in flooded underground train tunnels and people walking along the crests of mountains in Scotland.

My case was a little harder. Dennis had been able to get his last Covid booster and a flu shot before he got sick. I delayed mine because I’d spent most of November writing during the NaNoWriMo writing challenge. I didn’t want to have sore arms and be sick for two days. Right. Next time I get the shots.

I had some Covid dreams which were noticeably more vivid than normal dreams and from which I awakened screaming. They are not so different from psychic dreams where my guides and other folk in Spirit come to visit me. I generally don’t wake up screaming from psychic dreams. But all that is settling back to normal.

There was one dicey time when I fell out of bed and couldn’t get up again. My strength was absolutely gone. That was shocking. Moreso for my husband, who couldn’t get me up again. I slid right through his grasp like a slippery fish. When he told me he would call an ambulance, I said no, he was not. I wasn’t unconscious. I just couldn’t get up. We tried some more and eventually got me upright. He told me he thought I was dying.

The next day he called the cemetery where he works and where we have our plot all bought and paid for and asked them what the proper procedure was. These people are champs. They are so respectful of the families and the dead guys. Dennis and I sat with our counselor to figure out how we wanted to be buried. Ceremony? Party afterward? Caskets? Who knew we could be cremated and put into a sturdy cardboard box that will eventually decompose and become earth again? That’s what we elected to do.

So, when the time comes, everything is ready.

What we didn’t know was what to do first. Dennis called them the day after my fall. Our counselor told him that if I had died on the floor beside our bed, Dennis should call the paramedics. Once they got to the house, he would tell them of our arrangements with the cemetery. They would have pronounced me on the spot and then called the cemetery, who would haul me off in a hearse, bypassing the need to go to the hospital or morgue.

The folks at the cemetery don’t talk about dead guys. They say things like the dearly departed. They don’t refer to people as clients or customers. They talk about our families. They are always very respectful. I think I would enjoy working there too, except I wouldn’t be nearly as respectful as they are. Just because I’m not, and I can talk to dead people.

When Dennis and I first sat with our counselor to figure out the finer points of our services, at the end of the conversation, I heard, “We are happy”. Of course, that was from one of the buried folk in the cemetery. I didn’t know who it was. They only said, “We are happy”. So, I told our counselor. He said that particular conference room regularly got traffic from Spirit. He had heard it too at times. There are other people who work at the cemetery who have those connections with Spirit; the same sort I have. It does not startle them and they are just as blasé as I am about it.

It’s not something unusual. It’s just how we are.

I’m glad to be back and look forward to a renewed interest in writing. I just didn’t have the stamina or interest in it while I was sick.

One thing being sick does is allow you to have a genuine appreciation for when you are healthy.

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