Cathie was diagnosed with a virulent form of hepatitis C in 2003. I didn’t find out about it until November of 2004. When I saw her that Christmas, her appearance came as total shock. She wasn’t just sick, she looked like a zombie—a walking skeleton with sunken eyes sockets and pasty yellow skin hanging off her bones.
During my visit, she sank into a state of liver coma and was rushed to the hospital. They were able to reverse the toxicity of her body and bring her back, but the prognosis didn’t look good. She needed a transplant, and she needed it right away.
I was tested and found to be a suitable match, but the doctors refused my offer.
Cathie was in such bad shape that they considered it too risky for both the donor and the recipient. She needed a full liver, not the half portion that I could provide. She was bumped up on the priority list for a full liver transplant, given a pager and told to pack her bags.
The call came in late January. She was given a young, healthy liver. The surgery was successful. The hepatitis had been exterminated, and she was receiving the best of care.
She should have been well on her way to recovery, but that was not the case.
On April 2nd I had a life altering psychic reading. Noralee said: My sister had two time lines—six weeks and six months. It would be all up to her.
On May 12th, I received a call from my mother in PEI. Cathie had aspirated on her feeding tube, and it didn’t look good. She thought I should come quickly, so I jumped on the first available bus and headed to Halifax.
At that time I had only begun my journey and was still overwhelmed by the energy and emotions of others that were continually bombarding me. I had not yet figured out how to shield properly, and I certainly hadn’t figured out how to utilize my so called gift of healing, but the motivation was certainly there. What was the point of having such a gift if I could not use it to help my sister?
Not only did I receive a crash curse in blocking energy and wielding it to heal, I had to come to terms with the hardest lesson of all—I couldn’t heal my sister. It became painfully obvious that she didn’t want to be healed.
Cathie wasn’t listening to her doctors, she wasn’t eating, and after four months of starving herself, her body had withered away. All her other organs were shutting down, and she had to go on dialysis. There was naught I could do but massage her aching bones, and take away the superficial pain. This I could do because she had no tolerance for her physical discomfort, and really didn’t want to feel anything. While doing that, I also infused her with calm, soothing, positive energy in the hopes of making a difference.
It was enough to break the cycle.
It wasn’t until I had returned to Ottawa, that I realized my trip to Halifax took place exactly six weeks after that psychic reading, giving it ominous credibility—six weeks and six months…
Cathie wanted to go home to Murray Harbor, PEI. That was the one goal that she focused on, and she managed to return for a couple of weekends before she passed away that October of 2005.
Her life and death were tragic.
Ultimately it was all up to her. She chose death over life. I did not agree, nor did I understand at that time, but I did honor her decision. It was a hard lesson to learn, and an even harder one to accept.
She will live on forever in my heart,
Annie O