5. More Working the Minds

Another true story ( November 2016)

Woke up as usual, no worries, got out of bed, put the feet on the floor…woops nearly fell over, the left leg didn’t want to hold me up. Thought I’d maybe sleeping on that leg, bit numb. Found that I couldn’t walk sensibly on it, but got on with life and carried on with the day’s events. After a couple of days, ended up at the hospital, no pain but still limp, and was put into the ‘Stroke recovery ward’ No worries, food was great, Bed was good. I realised after a while that it was a general observation ward to see if the stroke was going to have any adverse effect. After a few days when I was obviously still alive and on fire, they sent me home.

Maybe because they weren’t too happy with the on fire bit ………..it was the usual mixed gender six bed ward, and opposite my bed was a near skeleton lady. I learned later that she was 92 and had had who knows what amount of strokes. She just lay there basically comatose.

A normal, respectable looking guy perhaps in his mid forties would visit a couple of times a day, hold her hand and talk lovingly to her, maybe her son, maybe husband, but he seemed too young for that, like, she was 92, so any husband would need to be even older. But at least he spoke with her quietly – as one would expect in a public ward.

Not like the otherwise excellent nurses though. Geez. 98% of humans around our planet are either brain dead or just not aware of their immediate surroundings. Or both.

It seemed as though the nurses figured that because this this little old lady couldn’t talk, she was deaf so they almost shouted out loud at the poor little bugger. All sweet endearing words and nice requests about did she need any help etc: but how about talking a bit softly to her. Not my business to tell them, so all I could do was wince and all she could do was lie there and have to accept this (to me and I’m sure to her) barrage of noise.

Lovely, sweet nurses and so helpful, but this was supposed to be a recovery ward, not a bloody disco.

How interesting though. I had become a bass player at a very early age because I see now – many decades later – I couldn’t help myself. I just picked the thing up and played it. There wasn’t much choice. Seems it was the same here too, with mind healing hypnotherapy.

I just did it. There wasn’t much choice. There came a quiet moment. No nurses or others. I slid out of the bed, wandered over with the bit of a limp that I now had. Quietly sat on the side of her bed and lightly tapped – just once – on that skeletal hand.

The eyes opened a little, the hand moved. I took it so that my presence would start to exist in her mind. We were already connecting. I spoke just above a whisper. So refreshing for her ears. “If you feel like it, you may like to try something” The hand fluttered “ok” I gently morphed into her mind, and brought the universe with me. “Imagine the two lungs in your chest, both working nicely. Maybe you can imagine your breath moving in and out of them so smoothly, and that breath is flowing nicely along your throat. That’s right (a few second’s rest break here)”Now imagine the vocal chords in your throat, and how it used to be lovely (rest here) when you could pass your breath over them and speak with your friends.

Just imagine that for a moment … just remember those happy times” I could almost see/feel her mind, her memory working way. I was almost in a light trance myself in just those few moments I’d been talking with – not to – her. I was now in direct but gentle communication with her subconscious mind. “Maybe you’d like to remember those nice times. Perhaps drift your mind back a bit. It wasn’t that long ago really. You can easily think back to when you were talking away with your friends. That’s it, easy now” I was quiet for a few moments, letting her subconscious mind wander back in its memory bank. Just as softly now, I suggested that she imagine the breath moving along her throat and across her vocal chords right now “and look” I continued, “see if your breath can vibrate those chords like they used to. They’d remember how. You know, imagine it. Let it go ahhh. Just make a tiny sound.”

My word were spoken so easily, so softly, just flowing, like Mother Nature whispering through the trees, the trickling of the stream….

Then OMG, there it was, the tiny sound, the chords moving, vibrating so slightly. The eyes struggled open as she heard her voice since how many years. a slightly louder “ohh” came from her. Then a crackling sound and those eyes saw me and a croaking sound came so dreadfully ” who, what are you, that can do this thing?” The hairs stood up, but as I looked behind me, there was the hospital’s chief Neuro-Surgeon watching. Came up for one of his rounds I suppose. Gee, I wasn’t supposed to even be out of bed, let alone wandering ’round the ward doing a Jesus act. Jesus act? Well c’mon. He was the Chief Surgeon, and he could do bugger-all, and I’d got her talking again after just a few minutes…. of course, I know girls like to have their hand held, but that’s another story 🙂 “UM, g’day sport. Just a bit of the old hypno you know”, as I limped past him on the way back to bed. Maybe he’s still wondering how I got that skeleton to talk. When I got home a couple of days later – still limping – I started straight back in to do some more study just like I did when I first picked up that double bass in 1956 – 62 years ago. The next 62 years are going to be interesting. By then, my brain and mind may be in the plastic/metal skull of an Android robot, and after another couple of thousand/million years, I may have evolved enough into pure energy, and creation will be ours.

Yeah …..