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"I'll Be Watching You"

I am on the gurney heading to the operating room. The woman navigating this corridor has on this very cheery scrub cap covered in colorful butterflies. My gurney had wheels like the wonky carts you get at the store sometimes, but my butterfly laden driver did not bump into a thing. This was clearly not her first rodeo.


As we were making our way, there were people along the hallway. Some appeared to worked there, some I am sure did not. Two gentlemen were chatting in the middle of the hallway and even stopped to comment on the excellent navigation skills of my driver. I noticed the man was wearing an Atlanta Falcons jersey. Not a big deal, except this is Buffalo, in football season. We bleed blue and red, so it caught my eye. He was an older guy, clearly a hip fellow to be wearing this on a Monday in a hospital. 


Being that I was on my way to the operating room, I had bigger fish to fry and I put it out of my head.


I was heading to the operating room to have a hysterectomy. (This was something I wrote about earlier this year in another post if you want to read more.)


This surgery is potentially and hopefully the culmination of many years of suffering, researching, self-healing, self-flagellation, restriction, confusion, magic and synchronicities. The fifth opinion I sought this summer at the Cleveland Clinic confirmed my approach. The doctor there allayed some of my bigger worries about infiltrating endometriosis but confirmed that my quality of life would be greatly improved with a hysterectomy. 


I found out a couple of months ago that I had something called adenomyosis. This is the evil twin of endometriosis. They often show up together, like a bad tag team. This was known in 2019 but was not shared with me, nor was I familiar with these diseases back then. The implications of one or both can include food sensitivities, chronic inflammation and many of the things I have struggled with for a very long time. These issues became more pronounced when I first had kids and then even worse as I approached 40.


But back to the hospital…


The surgery went well but I had some post-surgical issues that delayed my departure. I spent a lot of time nodding off in bed and caught some random images in my mind’s eye. A red and navy-blue striped rugby shirt, an old-fashioned straw broom, the Atlanta Falcons logo. What? No idea how or why this stuff appears in my brain but there it was, a whole bunch of nonsense. We were also under the influence of a powerful Gemini full moon. I had written on social media over the weekend to expect some messages amid the mayhem. I did not expect any messages in the hospital on the surgical floor, but Spirit always finds a way. 


Once we were finally able to leave, my husband ran to get the car and I waited for the wheelchair to take me downstairs. The nice young girl that came to fetch me wheeled me on to the elevator. We stopped at the third floor to pick up another person. As Spirit would have it, it was the older gentleman in the Atlanta Falcons jersey that I had seen that morning. We exchanged hellos, and he looked at me. Like he really looked me dead in the eyes. I had this feeling come over me, like when Father Raphael visited my mother’s hospital room in Florida. If you are not familiar with this tale, I invite you to read: ( Long and short, this was a feeling of connection, of other worldliness.


He said to me, “You are going to be all right now. OK?” 


I said, “OK.” I just kept staring at him, taking it all in. 


He said, “I need you to listen to me, you will be alright.”


“Ok,” I said, “thank you.”


He nodded and went back about his business. He walked out to his car while we went to find Dave. 


I had so many questions, but mostly I know that whoever sent the Falcons guy was my messenger. I got in the car and told Dave the story. He is highly skeptical and isn’t the biggest believer in my stories. He will always listen though, and he admitted this was a little off the path of expected. I said it was a Deion Sanders jersey because I saw a patch at the bottom that said as much. “21,” Dave replied. I was confused. He explained Deion was number 21 when he played for the Falcons. 


My whole day had been surrounded by 5’s. Every room or bed I was in was 32 or 23. My patient ID number with which I could be tracked boiled down to 5. The operating room was on the 5th floor. My fifth opinion from a doctor was the one that put me on this path.


The Falcons man got on the 3rd floor and Deion’s number 21 makes a 3. 


5 represents change. 3 represents all the things, body mind spirit, the holy trinity and communication and connection. Birds are my favorite which you know if you have been a regular reader so of course I needed to consult my favorite bird authorities.

Falcon symbolizes victory and is a powerful spiritual messenger. OK, I will take that. As for the opportunity and rest of it, I will wait until I recover and am rested and healed.


We shall see how the numbers play out, but for now I am just happy with my confirmation from whomever sent the message. 


“You will be OK.”


For all of you out there seeking your signs, please remember they come from everywhere and from people too. Keep an open mind and heart and they will find your way to you.


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