On ghosts.

The entryway of our house, both beautiful and a way I test my strength any given day. Is it a railing day? A normal climbing day? A never go to the door day? It’s a mystery I wake up to.

In our young love days, Evan and I went through a phase where we almost exclusively watched episodes of Ghost Hunters. It was our comfort show, the kind you turn on old episodes to play in the background as we lived our life around it. Part of that comfort was how the format of the episodes never changed. 

Team B gets a call from someone claiming their home/business/abandoned prison is haunted. Call in Team A and brief them on the “situation.” Pack the stakeout van with equipment to capture the ghost visually and audibly. Playful banter between teams ensues. Meet the person who called in to help with an awkward conversation where their bodies are turned slightly to the camera while standing in an overly lit entryway. Wait for nightfall. Lots of greenish footage from the night vision cameras. Lots of “did you hear that” with aptly timed spooky music. Experiments like Team A asking Team B in the van to drive by the house to verify if that apparition they just saw was headlights outside or, in fact, a child in a white sleeping bonnet that died in the house in 1890. Team B is back in a hotel conference room breaking down footage. Findings are reported. The van drives away to its next ghostly destination. Yes, it helps that the team is awkward AF, but after many hours we found ourselves saying things to each other like, “they won’t take that gig in California because Steve is afraid of flying” and “I wonder what Dave Tango’s relationship is like with his dad?” 

The OG aka young love days Ghost Hunters team. Ghost Hunting is appartenly no laughing matter.

As for my own thoughts on ghosts, I generally live by the ‘ol Einstein guide that “there are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” It’s just more fun to imagine that ghosts and aliens and the chupacabra and bigfoot and fairies are outsmarting all our modern folklore creature-finding tech. Not to mention I’ve seen enough impossibles come to be in my lifetime to think that just because I don’t see it now means it doesn’t exist. Just yesterday, I used my phone to have someone make me a smoothie so I could just don my mask and walk in to pick it up. There are at least three things in that sentence that would have blown little 12-year-old Hayley’s mind. So yeah, pro-ghosts. 

I’ve been talking with Evan and mom, my two selfless caregivers, about hauntings of a different sort lately. It’s a ‘the call is coming from inside the house’ sort of situation where I’ll be just minding my business, and the thought of, I’m going to the hospital for 4-6 weeks jumps out of nowhere and scares the shit out of me. I get paralyzed. Like Ghost Hunters, the script is always the same: 

Whistling my way along. 

Remember the upcoming hospital stay. 

Do quick math on how many days until I go in. (21 as of today) 

Heart rate increases, palms sweat, and eyes have a 10,000-yard stare. 

I run through my packing list. Puzzles, paint-by-number, yoga mat, books…….

I remember the pain and compare it to how I feel now. 

I get angry. 

I get sad. 

I cry. 

I call for help. 

Help comes in different forms depending on the day. Sometimes I revisit my packing list and order a few more comforts to turn my hospital room into a sanctuary as best I can. Other moments I call or message a friend, naming what I am feeling and asking if I can just work through it out loud with them. Evan and mom carry the weight of most of these conversations. Really, Evan and mom carry the weight of so much.** Often, I distract myself with TikTok or yoga or a walk or writing or food. Eventually, the thoughts fade into the background as all thoughts do, and eventually, I know they will haunt me again. Ghosts of hospital rooms and of death - constant companions. 

Practice during the last CAR-T transplant in sanctuary building.

So I take my cues from fellow Haley as in Haley Joel Osment as little cutie Cole in the Sixth Sense*** by facing the ghosts and asking them what they want. They -fear, grief, hope - are benevolent beings who only want to protect me, to hold onto life and what I love about living it. Standing my ground, I can ask the fear what it needs and listen, really listen. Grounded still, I can gently remind myself they are just thoughts mixed in with my thoughts about groceries and feeding the cats and needing to charge my phone and all the other jumble that comes and goes. I don’t have to be haunted if I accept the ghosts as my friends and roomies for life. 

Fun fact: In the writing of this, I discovered that Ghost Hunters is back, baby! Add it to the watch list for hospital time. I’m more excited than I should be to see if Dave has conquered his fear of flying and to see their current van situation. Will it be creepy? Will it be like one of those FBI stakeout vans all tricked out with equipment? What tech are they working with? Big day, ya’ll. Big day. 

NOTES: 

** Love on a caregiver today, will ya? They are so often overlooked and carry a unique burden of their own. It doesn’t have to be a welfare check; it can be as simple as a thank you or words of compassion for their very big task. Lord knows they have ghosts of their own. 

*** Spoiler alert: Malcolm was dead the whole time. Fam, if you haven’t watched it by now, I’m not going to feel bad. Old school M. Night? Still holds up.