Message in a Bottle from Room 22, Bed 4

By Steve Beckow, Golden Age of Gaia

Suzi, whaddamIgonnado if I don’t write?

Listen to music videos?

I must be the only fellow on the Cardiac Unit, facing a triple bypass, who’s laughing and crying, listening to America’s Got Talent. Or laughing for any other reason, for that matter!

Young boy with cancer, bullied, takes up the violin. For those short of time, begin at 2:43

I see signs at every turn of this transition that I’m going through being managed.

Maybe I should give you the background. On my birthday my friend, who wishes to be unnamed, took me to the Keg and there, being treated to a perfectly-marvellous Sirloin Oscar (two bites), I vomited four times. I did not see this as a symptom of heart problems (1)  although the unit here has told me it was.

The next day I’m in Victoria having a second birthday with my brother Paul and his wife Fran. By now I’ve gone through a series of episodes of shortness of breath, pain in my upper chest, constipation, an aching in my left arm, dizziness, and nausea.

I’m lying in bed thinking something may be seriously wrong (ya think?). I felt I had to cut short my visit, return to Vancouver, and check myself into St Pauls Hospital (2) on Thanksgiving.

Incredible range and voice control.

I have a complete workup in Emergency and they order an angiogram.

The angio shows I have 100%, 90%, 80% and 60% blockage in four arteries. I am headed for a triple, or maybe even a quadruple, bypass in, they say, two weeks.

Then things begin to escalate. I catch what they say is stapholococcus and I begin to make arrangements with Suzi to cover for me. Now they say it’ll take four weeks. (3)

The next day they call it MRSA (Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus aureus). An ultrasound shows “vegetation” on my heart. The wait time goes up to six weeks. So I really begin planning for a long rest.

Before I even started the blog, I’d written a living will in which I rejected open-heart surgery. I’d brought it to the hospital.

Heck, I’ve been outside my body. I know what the other side is like. I even wrote a book about it. (4) What have I to fear?

OMG. Courtney Hadwin went on to win the finals in 2018. She bursts … explodes … onto the music scene.

Quick call to Linda Dillon.  Michael, through her, says, “Nope. You’re not leaving.”

OK, so I retrieve my living will and put that idea out of my mind. By then I’ve thoroughly settled into the idea that I need a rest.

Now, me having reached the pinnacle of concern, the hospital starts backtracking. Now they say they caught the bug soon enough that they won’t need six weeks.

Then they say I don’t have MRSA; I have MSSA (Methicillin-Susceptible Staphylococcus aureus). This is treatable by antibiotics.

Uhhh, I’m beginning to see a pattern here.

I have chest pains, but only for less than a day. My left arm aches but, again, only for a short time. Conclusion? Someone is gently moving me towards the hospital.

I have high concern over having a superbug. So I agree to a good, long rest period. Then, after I’ve agreed to it, I hear that they caught the bug early.

And then, after that, I hear the strain I have is susceptible, not resistant, to antibiotics. (Just today they say I now have negative blood cultures. Say again?)

(The next news I’m waiting for is that my arteries are clear without the need for an operation!!!!)

So once I’ve cleared the decks and agreed to rest, the seriousness of the situation begins to decrease. Once I agreed to the urgency of the situation, the situation eased. Conclusion? Someone is guiding events and simply wants me to rest.

Then on the 17th I have a pre-scheduled reading with Michael and, among other things, he confirms my growing suspicions:

“There are … times, Beloved One, as you have witnessed in those around you, that we literally take you out, that we take you out of play to reimagine, rebuild, reintegrate, reincarnate… (No, not into a different life or a different form!) But into the resurrected self.” (5)

I have never, ever heard guitar played this way.

So this is his arrangement. And he tells me “directly”: “This is certainly not the era or the time or the timing for the departure of your sweet self.” (5)

Ooooookay. I’m now thoroughly behind the assignment, resigned to taking time off, wide open to what will follow, and surrendered to however it develops, much of which seems to be  outside my control anyway.  The high drama has produced results.

Fade to black….

Meanwhile I’m learning a great deal from the nurses and doctors here.  Their kindness,  maturity, and professionalism are all making an impact on me.

Never mind taking a picture with my iPhone. I’m snapping shots with my mind. This is how committed and well-developed people act. How this will help me after the Reval!

As a person used to living in a high degree of solitude, I couldn’t have asked for a better tutorial. I am sooooo grateful for this stay among such exemplary professionals.

So now I wait till perhaps sometime this week before I go home. Then a community nurse drops by and gives me an antibiotic IV once a day till Nov. 28, no matter when the operation is. (They don’t have to wait until the bug is completely gone before operating; just gone from my heart.) (7)

Thank you all for relieving me of a heavy load of email. Suzi does read some out to me and keep me apprized of the loving consolation you’ve been sending.  She’s putting all your emails into one document soon and sending that along to me.

I’m not suffering. I’m experiencing more learning from this experience than anything I’ve been through in years so no need to feel sorry for me.

Thank you for your expressions of love. I love you all,



(1) Because I also have Schatsky’s ring, which is an occasional and unpredictable constriction of the throat while eating beef.

(2) Where I was born, by the way.

(3) Even more recently they found a leaky valve as well. That now necessitates more tests today …no, now it’s tomorrow … while they put probes down my throat and take another, clearer picture of my heart.

(4) New Maps of Heaven at

(5) Archangel Michael in a personal reading with Steve Beckow through Linda Dillon, Oct. 17, 2019.

(6) Loc. cit.

(7) I definitely won’t be able to read or answer email or phone calls for probably a week after the operation.

And, finally, for your viewing entertainment, a moment a little girl will probably always remember:


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