This nurse not only brought me food and gently laid it on my chest to coax me to eat after particularly bad chemotherapy sessions, but also slept beside me and followed me into the bathroom during my many nightly trips to the toilet. There, he would cover my cold feet with his warm furry belly and patiently wait for me to finish, purring all the while.This amazing feline nurse was my Siamese cat of 27 years.
Baby Cakes was the cat who barked and healed.
The first time our eyes connected and recognized each other’s souls was in a mall. Baby Cakes was a crouched alone in the corner of a pet shop window and looked like a kitten I had dreamed about months earlier.
“How much is that white kitty in the window?” I asked. “And may I please hold her?” Baby buried his face in the bend of my arm and sneezed when the sales girl returned with disturbing information.
“That kitten is a he, not a she. He’s some kind of white Siamese, and I’m sorry, but he’s not for sale. He’s sick. We’re returning him to the breeder tomorrow. The vet doesn’t want it in the pet shop.” I knew what that meant, and it was not good. Caring for a sick kitten was costly and most breeders were not into spending money. They were into making it.
As she reached for him, Baby barked like a dog. “Darn it! He always makes me jump when he does that. Learned it from the dogs in here. Too bad he’s going back. He’s so smart.”
“He’s not going back. I’m taking him home. Please help me make this happen.” And, she did.
That was 27 years, 3 breast cancers (that were missed by doctors and tests but found by the same dreams that showed me Baby), 2 chemotherapy and radiation treatments, and 21 operations ago.
We’ve been to hell and back together.
Hell, we’ve been through cancer together.
Baby’s unconditional love was expressed in tweets, purrs, and barks. He never did learn to wag the tail he always held so high.
When my health reports faxed to my home had ALERT-ALERT typed on all four sides of the paper, Baby would sit in my lap, gaze into my eyes, read my shattered emotions and then reach up and gently caress my face with his paw as if to say, “It’s going to be okay. Don’t cry. You’re not alone. I’m here. Let’s take a nap. We’ll feel better.” And we always did!
Snuggled in bed with Baby was a dream come true. Dreams were our escape from cancer’s reality during treatment because, truth be told, it was when I awakened that the nightmare always resumed, those many years ago.
But, last night’s dream was the beginning of today’s current nightmare of a different sort because I am cured of cancer, now. I got my report of clean health for the seventh year in a row a few weeks ago. However, last night’s prophetic dream was a forewarning. It is to prepare me for the end of my life with Baby Cakes.
My nurse, having finished his twelve years of work, was finally ready to hang up his white fur hat and leave me.
Join me in Part 2 of this prophetic dream where we will explore Spirit Guides and Pop-ups in Dreams—Doorways to the other side.
Excerpted from SURVIVING CANCERLAND: Intuitive Aspects of Healing (Cypress House, January 2014) Reserve your copy NOW http://tinyurl.com/p7cjfxa, click here http://accessyourinnerguide.com/download/ to receive a free Dream Guidebook.
Bio: Kathleen O’Keefe-Kanavos, Intuitive Life Coach, survived three breast cancers, wrote SURVIVING CANCERLAND: Intuitive Aspects of Healing (Cypress House, Jan 2014) websites: Surviving Cancerland & Access Your Inner Guide, Hosts Living Well Talk Radio , Cancer Q&A columnist CapeWomenOnlineMagazine, Dream Queen columnist- Wellness Woman 40 & Beyond, Your Dream Intrepretation, WakeUpWomen; R.A. BLOCH Cancer Foundation Hotline Counselor. Represented by Steve Allen Media.