Don't Kiss Them Good-bye

by Allison DuBois

  Domini was over at Stacey’s house getting ready to come over for a party I was throwing in her honor so that Dom could be around the old gang one last time before she passed. Domini put us in an awkward situation when she handed the phone to Stacey and forced us into a conversation. It turned out that Stacey and I live only a couple of miles apart and we have the same sarcastic sense of humor. Strangely enough, Stacey and I clicked immediately and made a play date for our kids for the following week.

  Stacey was pregnant with her second child, whom she had already decided to name Trevor, and like any excited mom she was eager to show off her son’s ultrasound pictures. She handed them to me and I admired the small form.

  “Domini told me what you do. Is there anything wrong with him?” Stacey asked.

  I hesitated, then ran my hand over the ultrasound; my hand stopped around his lower abdominal area. “He’s perfect up until here,” I said, pointing to his kidneys.

  Stacey said, “Oh yeah, the doctor said one kidney is bigger than the other, but they said that’s normal for boys, and it’ll correct itself in the womb.”

  I wasn’t sure whether I should reply truthfully and upset a pregnant woman I was hoping to become friends with, or lie and let Stacey find out later in her pregnancy.

  But she prodded me: “You can tell me.”

  “Well, he has a serious problem with his kidneys, but it’s correctable. They have a medical procedure they can do in utero.”

  Stacey said, “You mean they’ll have to go into me? They said they wouldn’t do anything before he was born, and they said it’ll correct itself in utero.”

  Stacey was clearly troubled by this information, and understandably so. She asked what else I saw. I told her that after Trevor was born they would have to perform another procedure, a fairly common one, and that he’d be fine.

  Stacey felt enough anxiety to go in for an early checkup for Trevor, but she truly felt that everything would be fine and that the doctor would tell her that the kidney had already corrected itself. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The nurse called in Stacey’s doctor to take a closer look at her condition. Stacey was informed that the baby’s kidneys were distended and so was his bladder. Tests confirmed that he might be going through renal failure, and his amniotic fluid was low. She was referred to a specialist and told the outlook wasn’t good.

  Stacey called me in tears. “You were right, there’s a problem.”

  This was one of those occasions when I would have been overjoyed to be wrong.

  The doctor kept saying, “I’m sorry, Stacey.” Stacey asked him if there was any chance Trevor could make it. The doctor said, “Let me talk to my colleague and get back to you.”

  The doctors wanted to retest the fluid, and this time the results were even worse. Stacey called me for consolation, but all I could say was “He will be fine, Stacey. This is one of the most difficult experiences that you will ever endure in your lifetime, but I can tell you that Trevor will be born, and he will be fine.”

  I was afraid that I appeared to be a condescending, callous know-it-all, but I knew what I told her would turn out to be right.

  I went on to tell her about her grandfather on the other side, who was “tinkering” (a term she said he used) with his own form of intervention for Trevor. Her grandfather came through with details, one of which was that nobody was winding his cuckoo clock and he wanted Stacey to do so. I told her it was the clock that was brown with big black maple leaves on it. Stacey said she knew exactly which one I was talking about. This was important information to have shared, because it validated something personal between Stacey and her grandfather.

  He also wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone and that he was doing what he could from the other side. I sat on the phone with her and listened to her sob uncontrollably, feeling powerless to do anything but be there for her.

  Within a week, Stacey’s new specialist, Dr. Foley, suggested a new procedure that was being used in England. It involved going into the unborn baby’s abdomen and inserting a shunt into his bladder that would allow urine to pass through and produce the amniotic fluid necessary to keep him alive long enough to be born. Surgery was scheduled for the day before Thanksgiving, and Stacey was excited.

  Everything went well until the shunt broke. Dr. Foley had only seen this happen once before and there was no backup shunt, so the procedure was unsuccessful. When Stacey had given up on ever seeing her baby alive, the compassionate Dr. Foley looked at her and said, “Let me be your hope.”

  Stacey sure wasn’t feeling thankful that year. She called me upset, worried that Trevor wouldn’t even make it through the weekend. His amniotic fluid was dangerously low and he would be unable to breathe if he ran out. I tried to console her.

  “He’s just fine. He’s a mellow baby, but he’s tough, too.”

  Stacey wanted to believe me, but how could she feel optimistic now? On Monday, Stacey’s doctor conducted another ultrasound. Stacey was expecting to hear that Trevor’s condition was the same, or perhaps even that he had not survived. She was not expecting what happened next. The doctor excitedly pointed out the increase in amniotic fluid; it was now at a normal level. He had only ever seen this happen once before and that case is in the books. Trevor was a miracle. Still, Stacey would not allow herself to get her hopes up.

  I bonded with Trevor while he was in utero. I knew how he was feeling, what he’d look like, what his temperament was, and if he could be willed here I was going to do it. I did a lot of soul-searching and asked my guides many questions about life and what really matters. All along they assured me this baby was going to be here and that there were forces from the other side who were helping him.

  On February 18, 2001, my godson Trevor Jon (after Stacey’s grandfather) Michael (after Dr. Michael Foley, whom Stacey will forever love for saving her baby) was born. I was there when he came into the world. I had to be there to know he was okay the second he was born. The little brute weighed almost eight pounds, and he was four weeks early!

  I had told Stacey before Trevor was born that he’d have light eyes like her side of the family, not dark brown like her husband and daughter. He would also have his father’s wavy hair. He would be built like a linebacker and be the most tranquil, happy baby she’d ever seen. He looks and acts exactly as I saw him before he was born. I knew him long before we were formally introduced.

  Trevor did have to have kidney surgery right after he was born. Stacey said she wasn’t upset about this since I had already told her about it four months earlier. Knowing this made me sure that I had done the right thing in telling Stacey about Trevor’s future medical procedures.

  I also told Stacey that Trevor would be taken off a particular medication at six months, which he was. She asked me about a surgery that Trevor was supposed to have after his first year, and I shared that between six and nine months of age he’d need this surgery, but he’d be fine. The doctors insisted that Trevor would need to be older than the time frame I’d given.

  Well, my resilient little man had the surgery at nine months and the doctors said that it was lucky they’d performed it early. It turned out that complications would have occurred had his condition not been addressed at that time.

  Let me make it clear that Trevor was being taken care of by forces other than me. He was already covered. It was Stacey I was taking care of, through my predictions. Now Stacey uses her own intuition regularly and is persistent when she pursues answers from Trevor’s doctors. Her ability to trust her own instincts has been a benefit to her son and his future. Intuition is so important when it comes to health issues. If you’re not satisfied with your doctor’s advice, get a second opinion. Your doctor’s feelings won’t be hurt.

  Trevor has already taught me several valuable lessons. One is the incredible power of faith. Remember to hold yours tight. Another is that intervention from the other side is one way that our love continues even after we’ve crossed over. Never underestimate undying love. I als
o realized how much a crisis either brings people together or tears them apart. Stacey is my closest friend and we will always look back on her pregnancy with Trevor and know that we were brought together at that time for a reason.

  I once did a reading for a young woman who had lost her husband and could not recover from the pain of losing him. I spent most of the session giving her details about him and messages from him. My client asked about having children; she had been told that she most likely could not. I told her that there was indeed scarring but that she was capable of getting pregnant and would have a child within two years. I am happy to report that a year later she gave birth to twin daughters.

  Another meaningful medical moment happened to the person closest to me. One morning I was sitting at the breakfast table when Joe’s deceased grandfather came through and said that Joe needed to go to the doctor and have his heart checked, and that he would understand, because heart trouble runs in the family. I told Joe, who knows that when I give a message he should take it seriously.

  He made an appointment with his doctor, who put him through a series of tests, including some blood work. The results showed that he had extremely high triglycerides and high cholesterol. I had told him before that I was concerned about him passing at around age forty. Indeed, the doctor said he was lucky to have caught these conditions when he did, or Joe would have had a heart attack by forty. Strangely, my husband is not overweight and neither of his parents has died of a heart condition. I thank God for my gift for many reasons, but I am especially grateful that my husband will be here to watch our little girls grow up.

  There have been many occasions where I’ve told people to have their chest X-rayed or have some other medical exam, and it turned out they had a rare form of tuberculosis or were in an early stage of breast cancer. I see this as being given a window to intervene for those who need the guidance of the other side.

  Occasionally I run across a case where there is to be no intervention. I have had a really hard time coming to terms with that. Once you get used to making a positive difference in others’ lives, it’s hard to accept that you cannot help all people. Sometimes injury or premature death is meant to happen in someone’s life plan. Why? Because without some misfortune we wouldn’t be forced to acknowledge how precious life is. What is even more amazing is that sometimes there is intervention from the other side and that prayers can be answered.

  Chapter 15

  Loving a Medium

  by Allison’s husband, Joe

  Allison asked if I would like to add anything to her book. I was not expecting that. This is her project. I am supposed to be the nonpsychic in the family. I’m an aerospace engineer, for God’s sake! I’ve never seen a ghost. I heard one once, but I have never seen one. In any case, I was honored and I accepted her offer. Then I was on my own.

  Where should I start? Do I talk about how we met? Or about when I discovered my wife is a psychic medium? About our daily routine? Who usually wins our arguments? Whether she constantly reads my mind? These are questions I get all the time, and I think they are all worth touching upon. The things I find most interesting are the things that Allison would not tell you herself.

  When I first saw Allison, it was as if a light shone down on her from above. She was surrounded by potential suitors, but was obviously not interested in any of them. Despite a completely bungled introduction, we managed to connect on some level. I did not see her again for several weeks, but then we began to date and within a year we were engaged. At this point I did not know that she was a psychic medium, even though she always seemed to know what I was thinking. Of course, this did not surprise me at the time because most women tend to know what men think.

  One of the first undeniable times she revealed a glimpse of her full abilities was when I took her on a trip to San Francisco to ask for her hand in marriage. While on the trip we stopped at the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum.

  While there, we played a game in which each of two people tries to guess what the other is thinking. The physical setup consists of a panel that keeps the two people from seeing each other. On either side of the panel there are identical sets of buttons, each corresponding to a shape, such as a circle, star, or square. One person chooses a button and presses it. Then the other person tries to press the matching button without being able to see the opponent. There is a set of lights to indicate if the guess was correct and an awful noise to indicate if it was not.

  Five times in a row, Allison correctly chose the buttons I had pushed. I was confused. There was only a 1 in 3,125 chance of that happening. I thought the machine was broken, so I checked. It was not broken. I made her repeat the buttons in the order in which she pressed them. She was right on. I should have fallen to my knees and proposed right then!

  She still did not reveal to me her psychic ability. It was not enough that she always knew people’s motives or that she could always guess the endings to stories. I knew that she was an excellent driver, as if she was always able to see the hole in traffic before it opened up. These things alone were too subtle to notice, and besides, I was in love, so everything she did seemed special.

  Shortly before I became fully aware of her ability, an odd thing happened. One afternoon when we were next in line at an automatic car wash, she looked at the car in front of us and started laughing.

  “Wouldn’t it be funny if the car in front of us was covered in suds and the machine broke and didn’t rinse it off?”

  Strangely, that was just what happened. The guy in front of us waited a minute, then got out of his car and looked around with the funniest expression on his face. He then drove off, I presume to complain to the management.

  At the time, I was not sure whether Allison saw the future or was actually able to make things happen. But the extent of her gift would soon be revealed, and many of my questions would be answered, only to raise more questions.

  One day, Allison’s senses were turned up higher than usual. She could see all sorts of spirits around the house, and was a little uneasy about it. I asked her what was bothering her.

  “Like you don’t know,” she snapped. Well, of course I didn’t know. I could not see them. I asked her repeatedly, and finally she told me what she was seeing. After she realized that, even though I could not see them, I would not condemn her for her ability, messages came flooding out from my relatives who had passed.

  My father was one of the first to come though. He had passed away two and a half months before I met Allison. I missed him and for a long time I wished that he and Allison could have met. She told me about the drawing table where I would build model airplanes as a boy while my father watched over my shoulder. She detailed the models I made and hung over my bed, and she described my childhood room. She knew things that she could not have known about except psychically. It turned out to be a wonderful way to introduce me to her abilities. I think that she was also relieved to be able to open up to me completely.

  Daily life with Allison is not as difficult as you might expect. But it is different. Some people like the expression “It is easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.” Well, this approach does not work with Allison. She feels betrayed, because she knows right away that you lied to her. I learned early in our marriage to be up front about everything. The small disagreements are quickly forgotten when addressed before the fact.

  Allison has what she calls vivid recall. She can remember everything. Many husbands claim that their wives have this ability, and maybe it is true. But Allison remembers the clothes, the people, the food, the gifts, and the atmosphere of every birthday, holiday, and anniversary that we have had over the last decade.

  I never have to worry about losing her in the mall or at an amusement park. She always seems to know right where I am. Sometimes I forget when I am out with other people that they will not be able to find me so easily.

  I feel that any two people who are truly in love are also in tune with each other; we give new meaning to the saying “
Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Most married couples feel a strong connection. Imagine that feeling turned up with a 20 dB gain (engineer talk for 100 times more powerful).

  Allison often uses this unseen connection to improve our lives. She often calls on the telephone when I think of her. Other times she will remind me to take an extra dollar on a short trip to the store. I will not understand why until I get to the store and the bank machine is out of order. Now I have gotten used to these things.

  We have spent many nights together with her relaying messages to me from the dead. Mostly these messages are from relatives, but some are from famous people. The spirits usually come through with something to verify their authenticity. For instance, my grandfather said he specifically missed Boston clam chowder. We called my mother, who confirmed that Boston clam chowder was one of his absolute favorites.

  Another time, I inquired about Albert Einstein and she came through with the cross streets of the university he attended in Germany. I’ve also received messages pertaining to future events in my life, some of which I am waiting to confirm.

  Throughout much of this book there are examples of the fantastic things that Allison does. This is only one part of her. She is also a wife, a mother, and a friend. Like almost everyone, Allison is tired after a hard day’s work. She likes to unwind by watching mindless television, like game shows and sitcoms. But sometimes she turns on a forensic science show in which they are extracting a bug’s larva from the nose of a decomposed corpse to build a case against the perpetrator. I ask her if this is really relaxing, but she does not answer because she is so entranced.

  I am scientific at heart and I want an explanation for her ability. I have been studying her habits and conducting small tests of my own. I hope that one day I will be able to offer an explanation of how she does it. However, I don’t think that the question “Why her?” will be fully answered in this lifetime.