Temple of Athena the Savior

For over two years, I have been working in dementia care, wrestling with madness in a very real form. I have sat with the elderly as their spirits left this world, bound for whatever afterlife their Gods have in store for them. In this place I grappled with spirits, both of passed-on humans and of a bottom feeding parasitic sort that is attracted to places of death and madness. It’s not quite as dramatic as it sounds. Grounding and cleansing has become a part of my daily routine, as has prayer and meditation become the very beginning of my day. On occasion, something more intensive was required, although that happened rarely. In an age where true training as a shaman can be lacking, a nursing home was my proving ground, where my skills as a magic practitioner were tested.

Last year, around Samhain, interestingly enough, I started a new position at a hospital. I’m only a patient transporter, taking patients from the ER to their rooms and transferring from one floor to another, to dialysis or CT or radiology, wherever they need to go. But it’s my foot in the door, into another world. It was hard to deny that I was beginning a new chapter of my journey. 

It’s been interesting. On my first day, we had a confused patient escape his floor before I could put my coat away. My trainer and I had to follow him until security and his sitter arrived so that he could get back to where he belonged. It’s been nonstop. I don’t deal with the medically unstable trauma patients, since I don’t have the expertise to help them if they happened to crash while being transported. 

Most of the work is simply caring for people, being empathetic. I don’t do much medically. I do report changes to the nurses. And in the vast majority of cases,  the causes of their sickness were purely medical. 

But in a few incidences, I know the true origin of the person’s illness is not physical. I remember one case where another transporter and I were called to move a bed. Some jobs require two transporters because the patient is bed-bound. 

As soon as we approached the room I felt the entity within the room reach out for me with it’s tendrils. Instinctually my shields went up, and it retreated. It’s strange how I can feel the hungry spirit inside the room, be mentally building my walls against it, while at the same time another part of my consciousness is joking with the other transporter as we wait for the nurse to finish her duties, and give us the okay to take the patient. We become strangely used to the miasma in the environments we work in. This is something that the more spiritually aware of us must be on guard for, that we never become *TOO* accustomed to this impurity. 

Another one of my duties as a transporter is morgue runs. Again, as someone who worked in nursing homes, I was not unaccustomed to death. This is definitely a different beast. In my last job, you’re helping someone you have cared for to pass. In this one, you show up, and the body is bagged and tagged. It’s different. In some ways, they aren’t a person anymore, but scientistifically, an object. I won’t treat them that way. In healthcare, preparing the body is called “after-death care”. They are still my patient. Sometimes, I can still feel them present. 

 I talk to the body, if my coworkers aren’t in the room. I tell them I’m sorry this happened to them, place my hand on their head (through the bag) and try to send them some calm. The younger they were when they died, the more restless their spirit tends to feel. After each run, I go to the bathroom by dispatch, wash my hands, and I pray to my Gods and to Jesus that they get where they are going safely. I am a Polytheist, and most of my patients are likely to have worshiped Jesus, although I have had the stray follower of Allah here and there. 

The weeks where I pick up too much overtime, I am not just depleted mentally and physically, but spiritually as well. My ability to shield quickly and instinctually is not as strong. 

I’m not going to stop working overtime, in general. I’ve just found that I need better self care in those weeks. And then to also have several weeks where I work only my regular hours and focus on selfcare and spiritual replenishment afterward. 

I’ve been in this job for almost a year. I was worried, at first, about being myself, but I’ve met many other pagans in the hospital, or at least witchy-ish people. I recognized these coworkers by commenting on their tattoos and knowing more about what the symbols meant than anyone else. We’ve since become close. I still won’t out someone without their express permission, and some things are simply too sacred to discuss with everyone, but times have changed. Pagans are everywhere. Just as the spirits are, spiritworkers are coming out of the woodwork. Perhaps we were always here, but now it’s simply safer to be seen.