K.V.

Renee Kusnier is a dear friend who I have known for a long time. There are so many ways over the years that her intuitive sense has helped both myself and my beloved animals, and these stories could fill a book. One particular day comes to mind, however, where she literally helped heal me physically, mentally, and emotionally, without being present, (she was over 500 miles away) or even having a verbal conversation. That day was December 16, 2016, when I was hospitalized at Mt Sinai for a right hip replacement surgery. Renee and I had talked on the phone the week before the procedure, and I was becoming increasingly nervous, as this was my first orthopedic surgery. I was on the young side for this type of salvage procedure, being only 47, and I was terrified that I might never be able to ride my horse again, or ski, skate, ride a motorcycle, or partake of any of the other high risk sports I enjoy. Renee assured me that she would be with me, spiritually that is, throughout the surgery and recovery. (My surgery was in Manhattan, NY, and Renee lived in North Carolina, hence the need for spiritual connection, as opposed to traditional visiting hours). She told me to reach out to her, mentally, if I felt afraid or was in pain. She was going to send me healing white light, and there were some other things that I can't remember the technical terms for, so I will get on with the story.
We shall fast forward to the O.R. Recovery/ICU at Mt Sinai, where I was regaining consciousness after the 6 hour long hip replacement surgery. I wasn't feeling any pain at all, thanks to Fentanyl still being somewhat available, and the epidural, which was performed pre-op. In fact, the epidural probably had more to do with the complete absence of pain, and I was amazed at how well this worked. I was hoping that it wouldn't wear off for at least a couple of days, but was informed by the recovery nurse that it should only be a 6 to 8 hour duration of effect, so I braced myself for the pain that was sure to follow. At one point, the nurse came to my bed and asked me to wiggle my toes, and I did, or so I thought. He asked me to wiggle the toes again, and I began to get a bit irritated, saying that I had just done this. He then removed the blanket so I could see my feet, and asked a third time for the toe wiggle. That's when I saw the problem; nothing was happening! In my head, I was wiggling my feet all over the place, but in reality, they just stayed still. I began to realize that there was no communication between my brain and any body part below my waist. I had never experienced an epidural before, so not knowing what to expect, I asked the nurse if he thought this was normal. His answer was something reassuring, however, the concerned look on his face indicated otherwise. I had no idea what time of day it was, but when my husband Rob showed up after work shortly after this toe test, I began to do the math and realized I was a few hours beyond the 8 hour window of the epidural. I didn't panic at this point; I mean, not every patient is textbook, right? The nurse returned on a half hour basis over the next several hours, always with the same request, wiggle the toes. It wasn't happening, no matter how hard I tried. Each time he left my bed, he looked increasingly concerned. After a few more hours I began to suspect something was wrong, and started to imagine what life would be like as a paraplegic. What a kick in the ass I thought to myself. Here I went through this major surgery at a fairly young age, because the pain in my right hip from bone to bone contact had become unbearable, only to end up paralyzed from the waist down. Now there's the irony of life!
Throughout that long afternoon into the evening, I had a parade of medical professionals visit my bed in the recovery room. I should have been transferred hours earlier to a regular hospital room, but due to pronged paralysis, I had a visit from the anesthesiologist, the neurologist, and perhaps even a cardiologist, looking for a blood clot I assume, but not a one of these specialists had any explanation of what was going on, nor any words of encouragement. Now I was panicking; even Rob started to look worried, and he is not an alarmist. My only consolation was that as long as I remained paralyzed by the epidural, I felt no pain. This was becoming less and less of a comfort as the day wore on into night, and my legs were basically dead wood. So, I decided it was time to appeal to a higher power. I had nothing to lose. I closed my eyes and shut out the bright lights and sounds of a busy OR Recovery room and reached out to Renee in my mind. I asked her for help, and for healing white light, as she had instructed me to do. You have to realize that as much faith as I had in my friend, I had my doubts that anything could help me at this point. I had resigned myself to life in a wheelchair.
I don't know exactly how much time passed after my spiritual communication to Renee, but it wasn't very long before I began to feel a tingling and some pain in my toes. It felt like the time I had stupidly gone skiing in 20 below zero weather, and got frostbite inside my ski boots. I told Rob to get the nurse, because I still wasn't sure if this new sensation was good or bad. By the time he came to my bedside, my legs were tingling all the way to my hip, and now I was starting to feel the pain kicking in! For the first time all day I was actually able to wiggle my toes, and within an hour, was standing, albeit unsteadily, with crutches.
I was moved fairly quickly to a regular room at Mt Sinai after the epidural wore off, and it was at this point that we had a different spiritual encounter. Rob has become a bit callous about my numerous hospital stays over the years. After a very healthy childhood, my adult life has been plagued (no pun intended) with illness and injury, and at this point, I felt like I had earned frequent flyer miles at tri-state area hospitals. My husband is not exactly sensitive new age ponytail guy, and while he makes the obligatory visit to the hospital, he'd never spend the night. When the end of visiting hours were announced over the loudspeaker, I asked Rob to place the chair that was against the wall (for visitors) next to my bed at exactly a 45 degree angle. I then asked him to put my purple knapsack on that chair, because it was at arms length from the bed, and contains anything I may need. My husband began to argue with me about this obsessive need for the chair to be at such an angle, and I kept repeating that the chair needs to be askew. This went on until I explained the practical applications of this; when you're a cripple and in a hospital bed, you have to allow just enough room to swing the injured leg off the bed and gain control of the walker or crutches, and the chair needs to be out of the way just enough to allow this. If not, you're stuck in bed having to ring for a nurse and a bedpan, and nobody wants that! But the chair also had to be close enough for the purple knapsack to be within reach, so as not to have to get out of bed for it's contents. As you can tell, aside from being a professional hospital patient, I am a bit OCD, but I was prepared for my first painful night alone.
Rob left the room for the night grumbling, but had done his part to get that chair at exactly the right angle. It was about 2 or 3 minutes later that my cell phone buzzed within the purple knapsack, which was now within reach. I grabbed it, and it was a text from Renee. (Remember, she's in North Carolina, I'm in Manhattan, and we have not had a verbal communication in about a week). The text read "Do you have a chair in your hospital room that is at a slightly abnormal angle?" I smiled to myself, feeling fairly sure I knew what she was getting at, but asked anyway, "Yes, why?" Renee responded that my Mother was sitting next to my bed, and she had brought my dog. My Mother had passed away 10 months earlier, after losing her battle with colon cancer, and my world was rocked by this loss. I had tears of joy in my eyes at this revelation from Renee, because that chair was exactly where my Mother would have been in life. In addition, she would never have argued with me about the need for the chair to be askew! As for the dog, there had been several over the years, and all had gone over the rainbow bridge at that point. For the first time in awhile, I was without a dog, as my hip pain prior to surgery would have made dog walking almost impossible. I had a feeling I knew which one it was though, and sure enough, Renee confirmed that it was Kayla, the wonderfully wierd and wacky Clumber spaniel I had rescued years before, and the last dog I had owned up to that point. Kayla had visited me with my husband in a rehab center (for orthopedic injury, not drugs) years prior, after a terrible accident with my horse that resulted in a fractured hip and shoulder. Kayla was a natural therapy dog, and delighted all the residents of the nursing and rehab center. She had passed away 4 years prior to my mom, and had a special bond with mom. So these 2 ladies were "there" in my hospital room that night; Mom in the angled chair, Kayla at her feet, giving me love and comfort at a time when I needed it most. Renee knew this from a distance of over 500 miles, and did not hesitate to let me know. The emotional aspect of healing can be as important as the physical, and that day Renee gave support on both fronts. And boy did I have fun with my husband, who up to that point, thought this intuitive stuff was hocus pocus. Ha! He's a believer now! He was always so literal, but after the famous chair incident, he has opened up to the spiritual side of life.
So, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it. As I mentioned, there are many other times that Renee has been able to provide comfort, or help lift my spirits, through her intuitive abilities. She truly has a gift, and her kindness and generosity allows her to share this gift with anyone who seeks her help. I feel blessed and honored to call her my friend.

Kristin V. DVM

New York