In the Halls
If you want to hone your mediumship skills, hang out in a hospital for several days. Hospitals are rich with souls lingering on the edge of transition. Some are just passing through on their way home, some are hiding from what they fear death represents. Some are assembling watch parties to escort family members home, and some are subject matter experts called in by request through the prayers of the faithful.
During John’s recent sojourn in the hospital, I had the opportunity to interact with all of the above.
The first soul I met was a bit sad. He had been employed on the ward the year before. He wore the same scrubs as they rest of staff, but he came into John’s room skulking and low to the ground and moved pressed up against the wall. Souls who die in service-oriented environments often keep the “uniform” for a while. Not because they’re attached to the job, but because the uniform is the last shape their sense of purpose took. Through careful questioning of John’s nurse, we found out that “Sal” had committed suicide and was in hiding from what he feared death held for him.
Souls in fear don’t wander randomly. Sal knew I could see him, and he was safe in my presence. We had a long session of Q & A. Will he be condemned to hell? What will happen when death finds him? He had spent so much time fighting off death working in the ICU, and sometimes he lost.
That is the challenge faced by front line health care workers. Sal had spent years fighting death on behalf of others. He had stood between patients and the inevitable. He had lost people he tried desperately to save. He had absorbed their fear, their families’ grief, their final breaths. That path takes a toll; it impacts personal relationships and mental health. Death is not the enemy; it will come for all of us one day. Sal wasn’t hiding from death; he was hiding from his own perceived failures. I brought in so many angels to help him remember all the hands he had held, all the comfort and healing he offered. The angelic tribute helped him to come out of hiding and move beyond the fear. They helped Sal remember his goodness, reconnecting him to the part of himself that could walk toward the Light.
I got to witness another man be reunited with his family. He lost his young family more than 60 years ago when his wife lost control of the car with his son and baby daughter in the back. His life had moved on, but he longed for this reunion for every day of his life. He found the strength to move forward, knowing he was grasping every moment for all of them. When his family appeared, they didn’t come as ghosts of tragedy. They came as the versions of themselves untouched by the accident. The joy was so far beyond what the human heart can hold. This man was the perfect balance of what life teaches. He lived the full arc, not just the tragedy, not just the joy, but the way they braid together into a life that is both broken and beautiful. He lived with grief as a companion, not an enemy. He let longing shape him without consuming him. He allowed sorrow to refine his heart instead of closing it.
The most interesting person who showed up was a movie star of the golden era. He was following John’s doctor around. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised, because he had never even played a doctor in any of his movies. He was the king of westerns.
I had so many questions. I always call for all the angels, spirit helpers, cosmic physicians, and source energies to guide the doctors, but a cowboy? After John’s surgery the Duke was able to answer questions. One of his favorite roles was that of internationally recognized oil well fire engineer famous for pioneering techniques to control catastrophic oil‑well fires.
John’s surgery took many unexpected turns (as usual) and stretched from one hour to five. His doctor could have just backed out, and said this issue is just too complex and is messing up his schedule and pushed it off on another doctor at a bigger hospital as many before having done. Instead, he weighed all the options and applied the most modern technology and did everything required to address the issues. The Duke’s essence was grit, steadiness, and ability to face danger without blinking and a little bit of cowboy energy. That’s exactly what the doctor needed to stay the course. It required a doctor who refused to abandon the patient when the situation became too complex.
In the quiet corridors of a hospital, where life and death brush against one another, I witnessed the full spectrum of the human journey. Souls in hiding, souls in reunion, souls in service, and souls in courage all revealed themselves in their own time. Each encounter remind us that the threshold between worlds is never empty. It is shaped by love, fear, devotion, and the unseen helpers who step forward when the living and the dying need them most.
These moments taught me that tragedy will touch every life, but so will grace. Strength emerges in the unlikeliest places, healing arrives in forms we never expect, and true, soul-level joy can rise so powerfully that the human heart can only stand in awe of it. In the end, what matters is not how we leave this world, but how deeply we have lived, how fiercely we have loved, and how willingly we allow the Light to guide us home. Because in the End, only the Love remains.