The other night, a child gave me a handmade Kokopeli after a trip to the Southwest. If you are not familiar with Kokopeli, he is a trickster God, with crazy hair bent over and playing a flute, who is known and loved in Native American lore. I think of Kokopeli somewhat like Coyote, a lesson that is sent from above to teach you in a bewildering but humorous way. It takes an advanced spirit to 'catch on' when Kokopeli comes your way. And look! Here, as I tried to find a photo of him, here is what I got--for the first time ever--Double Kokopelies! Tongue in cheek, helping you to see a painful part of yourself clearly under the guise of humor, and all the while aiming to heal is what Kokopeli is all about.
Not long ago I slept in. I did not hear the alarm. Anesthesia has to be 'there' at a certain time. I opened my eyes and saw daylight--that is 'no bueno' in a big way! Fortunately with my scrambling, and the kids being okay with it (I promised donuts on the way to school), I was there with ample time. Why? I had an hour and a half delay on my start from my usual time. My cases started later. It just barely worked out.
Speaking of 'just barely', I had 'just barely' enough gas to get to work! I should have filled it last night, but I was exhausted. And the front tire I had overfilled with air to fifty-five because I can't see the little lines on the brass pressure gauge at the machine? I decided during the fill-up to let some air out of that tire. I took the little plastic cap off and guess what? It rolled under the car! I was on my knees and hands, looking, looking, and I just couldn't see it. Do I say 'screw it'? or do I figure out another way to look? I thought to myself. I felt 'a sense of being tested'. So I got in the car, and moved it forward a bit. This plastic piece is silver and very hard to see on pavement. Boom! It stuck out like a sore thumb! Persistence was the lesson of the lost little plastic cap for the tire.
During a colonoscopy, the patient had a poor prep. The entire room smelled like poop. I was holding my breath, gasping for air, and gagging. I wasn't usually part of the GI team, so I was worse of than the rest of them. But as I noticed, the surgeon stopped the study. The nurse and tech got towels to clean it up. Next I knew, the room smelled like oranges instead of poop. There is a wonderful spray in the hospital called 'room freshener'. They said it was strong and not to use too much. And then they got a fan. In a little while the room was pleasant. And the surgeon began to work again. Sometimes, even if you work with the lower digestive tract, you might smell poop, but when you do, everyone doesn't have to suffer! There are advanced technologies--like I learned--and now when we get that smell in the O.R. I know exactly what to do to take care of it. (before a long long time ago, we took xeroform gauze strips, wetted them with bubble gum flavoring, and hung them on the i.v. poles like an air freshener. More recently, I take flavored chap stick and smear it on everybodies mask. Root beer flavor covers it up good.)
Here is another GI fascinating fact: the length of your intestine is not related to your height. Yes, you can be seven feet tall and have shorter bowel than your grandmother who is under five feet. Both are inherited traits--height and bowel length--and they have no connection whatsoever!
Here is another funny, pointed lesson: in the million-dollar 'facelift' given to the hospital did not have the staff restrooms 'updated'. They still are rocking the eighties pink! It tells you about where you stand doesn't it, when the places for staff are not as nice as the ones for the patients?
Here is the last--the benefits of 'aura intelligence and communication'. I had to go do a cardioversion at the end of the day. This meant I went up to the part of the hospital that was hostile to me in the past. This place is so hostile that another senior nurse switched over from there to GI recently. They felt pressure to spread the nursing care too thin in the practice.. I walked by the front desk and barely said 'hello' on the way to the procedure. After the procedure, I sat at the desk to chart. As you know, I work on my aura, and it is healthy and strong. I 'sensed' discomfort from one of my biggest tormentors when I did hearts. It turned out some health inspectors from the county were touring the location. All of them had on suits and clipboards. I heard the tormentor saying, 'I made the safety changes of getting rid of carts and getting tote baskets for i.v. starts...etc.'. trying to justify their existence and acutely aware of my presence the whole time! Nothing to do in that situation but just look and see Karma payback while you 'sense' it. When I finished charted and went to go, because I outrank them, everyone had to say goodbye as I left. Even though together they had stabbed me in the back real good when I worked with them. Cheerily I said goodbye!
The notes for this article are on the back of the paper with patient label stickers. It is waxy, not even like 'real paper'. It was the only paper I had access to while working yesterday. Isn't it fitting?
So next time Kokopeli comes into your life, acknowledge it. Learn the lesson. Mine was:
1) patience
2) you don't have to smell poop
3) even if others don't give a poop about you
4) have self-confidence in your truth
5) when others poop on you it is more about them than about you
6) if they poop on others on a regular basis it is pretty hard to hide that fact when inspectors come
7) what goes around comes around, karma is alive and well in the Universe!
To finish, here is a beautiful Irish Double Rainbow. Are you seeing cracks in the matrix yet? A bug went into the Archon computers recently, according to Cobra. We should start seeing those too, much in the way Kokopeli guides us. Heads up! (I think that Hilary Clinton is a holographic projection after her 'hospitalization'. Have you ever seen her smile? It's like, nice, for the first time. I could be wrong, but, it makes me laugh to think about it possibly being true and from our Galactic Friends.)
Namaste,
Reiki Doc
