What I remember about Christmas

It's been several years since I really celebrated Christmas. I didn't stop for religious reason. I mainly stopped because I'm alone now, my son has grown and no longer celebrate, most of my family live thousands of miles away. I'm not lonely or sad, I'm just not making a big deal.
Today however like Ebenezer Scrooge I was visited by the ghost of Christmas past. This is what I remembered, Yummy treats and tummy ache. Hot chocolate and gingerbread with whipped cream, oranges, tangerines, walnuts and pecans. Candy dishes full of colorful hard candies. There was cookies and chocolate cake, apple and sweet potato pies, ham with pineapple and cherries glaze, turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes with giblet gravy.
Our neighborhood was always lite with colorful lights and Mr Roger had a Santa and reindeer on his roof and a snow covered nativity scene on his lawn. Our silver tree with a light that changed colors as the light circled, from red to green, blue and yellow. The homemade snowflakes and school art Christmas projects placed lovingly on the tree.
I remember the felicity of the holiday spirit and love and laughter as my siblings and I try not to offend one another in fear of receiving the dreaded lump of coal. I remember the Christmas when I was five my Aunt Cheryl(she was only five years older then myself) calling me a fast ass. I was certain after her saying that about me on Christmas Eve, she would surely receive her measly gift of the dreaded lump of coal, and just to be sure, I immediately told on her. Reminding my grandma that Santa left only coal for children that say bad words..Boy was I ever surprised when I saw her bounty the next morning, I also felt cheated out of laughing at her. The ghost of Christmas past didn't remind of what I did to make her feel the need to call me that, whatever it was I apparently was to focused on Cheryl's indiscretion to remember mine. I still struggle with focusing on others sin while I turn a blind eye to mine. I have learned a new word for that now, Jesus called it hypocrite and said I should first remove the log out my own eye. It's impossible to see when you have a log in your eye.
I remember the smell of pine and spices in the air. I remember the new plastic smell of my dolls and the bright shine of their hair. I remember emerging one such doll in water because she could actually pee if fed water and trying to get her to pee by bottle feeding her was too much of a chore. I tossed her aside after her near drowning experience since her hair no longer shone, but stood straight up on top of her head with none on the back or sides.
I remember itchy balloon slips under my dress and tights that I had to pick lint balls off, and reciting a poem for our Christmas pageant, I remember one year being the angel bringing the good news of the birth of our savior. I remember gifts that I loved and gifts that were practical.
I remember Christmas carols and licking snow of my hand knitted mittens...but most of all I remember, family, fun and being loved.
Merry Christmas...I have to go call my mother and son.
Fearless

On the right hand of Grace

I first met Stella in a dream two months before I met her in person. The dream was so real that I started writing about the woman in my dream in my journal to God. The day I met her in person was the day that I first set foot in House of God's Glory(My place of healing and worship). As I walked in with my friend Robbin, Stella beckoned me with a wave of her hand and said, in her Jewish mother New York accent "Come and sit next to me!" I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. Robbin tried to introduce us, but was met with a wave of Stella's hand and she said, "We already know each other!" At the time I didn't recognize her from my dream(she was much younger in my dream). As she motioned me to sit in the seat to the right of her, I had no idea it would be my seat for the next two and a half years.

Stella became my rock,confidant and friend. We would spend hours together, mostly at her home, feeding the ducks in the pond outside her back door. We loved sharing vegetable submarine sandwiches, secretly eating strawberry Haagen Dasz ice cream, and chatting for hours. They were peaceful days full of love. Sometimes I would reach for her hand. In her company I found love and acceptance, wisdom and the courage to dare to dream again. I once read that a friend believes in you when you forgot how to believe in yourself. Stella believed in me. Stella reminded me to believe in myself. She had an uncanny knack of knowing what I was feeling. She would say: "you look happy or sad, or tired." Once as I had a bad thought about someone, she said "Carlean no bad thoughts" without even looking at me.

I would arrive at Stella with a hand full of flowers, a veggie sub and the biggest balloon I could fine. I used pick the largest most colorful balloon In the market with a carefully chosen silk string. As I walked through the market I would call out to strangers "Happy Stella Day", and they would light up and give me a bright smile and say "Thank You". My sisters Jill and Melodie would be amazed at their response and wonder why they didn't see me as crazy. It was something about Stella Day that brightend the dark place inside of us. During those days Stella started having trouble remembering. She was received the diagnosis of Alzheimer. Stella got scared and cried a lot during those days. She was worried about not being able to take care of her self. At the time she was 86 years and fiercely independent. Her greatest concern was one day having to go to a nursing home. One day she had me promise that I would never let her go into a nursing home. I reluctantly agreed not because I didn't want to, but because I wasn't sure I could keep that promise since I wasn't a relative. She said "Now I feel better".

Several times after I made that promised I was tested in that area. Once as her memory started to decline and her family spoke to her about going into a place where she could be monitored. She cried and I remembered my promise so I called her and suggested I could move in with her and be there with her, she said "Where will you sleep in a one room apartment",I said "I don't know on the couch or floor what does it matter you won't be alone". We never mentioned it after that day. Her family hired a woman to come in a few times a week to clean and cook and work out a neat schedule for her so she wouldn't forget. The second time my promise was tested was on my birthday in early June. I surprised Stella with a visit to take her out to dinner with me to celebrate. She was so happy to see me, my visits had gotten fewer and far between. I don't know why, mostly because I'm selfish and visiting Stella had turned into a session of her asking the same question and me constantly repeating the answer. On my birthday I was feeling scared and defeated, I needed Stella and I didn't care if I had to answer the same question, I was satisfied with a glimpse of the old Stella. As I got out of the SUV in front of the restaurant, I said Stella wait until I get around to your side to assist you. Before I could get around to her side she had opened the door and got out. She got to the curve and tripped over the curve. I watched in shocked horror as Stella fell over. I tried to pick her up but she was much to heavy. Some of the employees at the restaurant saw what happened and came to her rescue. I beg them to call an ambulance. One of them came out to where we stood and told us he had called for emergency assistance. Stella bellowed in a loud voice that she was not getting into it. She was fine and was not going to the hospital. I looked her with pleading eyes and she tilted her head in determination. I said "Stella please go to the hospital, I'm going with, do you want me to take you?". I was so scared for her I started to cry, Then she told me why she couldn't go to the hospital. She said with tears in her own eyes "If I go to the hospital my family will put me into a nursing home". She held me to that promise against my better judgment. I said "Okay lets go eat". I stayed with Stella as long as I could that night and called the rest of the night until she finally said to me, I'm going to bed now". Then I called her at seven the next morning. It was the longest night of my life. The next time I saw her she said "Didn't we have a nice birthday".

A few months later she went to the hospital complaining of a pain in her shoulder. I knew it was bad because I knew she wouldn't dare step foot into a hospital unless it was a dire emergency. Several of the women in our congregation went to visit. I reined kisses on her forehead as I sometimes did in greeting and she said "Beautiful Carlean as she often referred to me. She was as always pondering how blessed she was, she used to say "I'm so blessed who has it better then me". Usually she would be referring to her small but peaceful apartment complex. However that day it was the fact that she had a private hospital room with a television that was connected to her bed and easily reached. I begged her to forgive me for being selfish and told her to hurry home so that we could have our Stella Day, I promised to be a better friend. She look at me with a puzzled expression and said "There's not a selfish bone in your body". I thought to myself, "Boy, she has to love me to be able to miss that". Two days later she had a heart attack.

I was awaken one morning a few days after her heart attack. The Lord spoke to me and asked me to pray for Stella's transition. I cried all that morning but I prayed. I said Lord this isn't fair I don't want to pray for her transition I want to pray for her healing. Once again that selfish side of me had surfaced. I said Lord it's hard to lose someone you love, and it's even hared to lose someone that loves you. He said "You won't be losing her love it's going from temporal to eternal". I thought about her quality of life, she had not been able to walk since her heart attack. If she survived she would most likely go into a nursing home. For the third time since making that promise I had to keep it. So I prayed the hardest prayer of my life. In between gut wrenching tears. I prayed for Stella transition to be painless and peaceful. A few hours later Ann our congregation senior pastor called and told me that they didn't expect Stella to make it.

The last time I saw Stella was two months to the day. We had our last Stella Day as she lay on her death bed. I wrote in my journal the following:

I made it to the hospital to see Stella. I first stopped in the store that I usually get the balloons for, "Stella Day". I got the biggest balloon I could find, it was colorful and shaped like a dragonfly. As I walked through the store I called out to everyone that passed me "Happy Stella Day", and as in the past it changed people. They smiled, waved and said "Thank you". By the time I made it to the hospital that strange Stella Day joy had taken me by surprise. Infecting everyone that came in contact with me. My roommate who accompanied me watched in amazement. She said "You would think people would think you are crazy or at least ask what is Stella Day". I told her everyone loves Stella Day even if they don't understand it. When we get to her room the first faces I see are my beloved Pastors Alyosha and Jody. Stella lay in the bed weak and frail a fraction of the Stella I'm used to. She looked up when I said happy Stella Day and smiled and said with a voice that didn't quite fit her condition. "Well lets go have fun"! You know how much I love Stella Day. We prayed for Stella's healing and she started to look better instantly. Stella stayed up and talked with us for hours. When we asked if she wanted to rest she said "no I want to enjoy my family". I asked her how she felt and she said, "Sweating and uncomfortable and since I'm complaining I must be getting better, otherwise I would just lay here".

I left the hospital with a sense of awe over the overwhelming grace of Stella Day. Stella's last words to me was "I'm so blessed and you are one of my biggest blessings and I appreciate you"..The lessons of gratitude, love, acceptance and grace that she imparted to me are priceless. She's one of biggest blessings.

I was taken by surprised by the grace given to me on Stella day. My heart is no longer heavy, but filled with awesome wonder of the blessings and love bestowed me that night at the hospital. I'm always amazed by grace. Always.

Stella said the Lord changed her name to Grace and I for one understood why. If I wrote about her for the next ten years I couldn't begin to tell all of the Grace she brought onto my life. I met her when I was broken, ragged, church abused and loosing faith that there was any true love in the church. I silently walked out of that hospital room, strong, sure and positive that I really do have worth and something of value to offer the rest of the world. She taught me how to love and be loved.

There are still days when I miss her so much that I cry, but I always think about what the Lord told me. Her love is eternal now. Then I say to myself, "I'm so blessed, who has it better them me".

Ain't I a woman

Lately I've been thinking about Sojourner Truth's famous "Ain't I a woman" speech. It was delivered at a Women's convention in Akron Ohio in 1881. I think about the courage she had as a former slave fighting for the rights of the "Women of the north and Negroes of the south". I've always loved the simplicity and wisdom of that great woman, of that great speech.
I remeber as a preteen during Afro American History month, our class was having a play. We were to choose a hero/heroine to speak on. I chose Sojourner Truth. I read all I could about her, I went to the library, and I searched through the many mostly unused encyclopedias my mother had purchased over the years. I finally came across her famous "Ain't I a woman" speech. I had found my hearts cry, we were kindred spirits. I would one day change my name to Sojourner and speak God's truth. I would be brave and fight oppression of all kind. I was twelve with such a stubborn determination that my daddy once proclaimed "I would die and go to hell for what I believed in". There is a long and winding road between twelve and forty-something. My journey has not been an easy one. My past is messy, full of sin and shame. I have been enslaved in my own lust. I have made many decisions built on fear; whose foundation crumbled under the weight of truth. I put my twelve years old dreams on a shelf for many years, they sat dusty and forgotten. Lately they have surfaced like the ghost of things past.
I think about the stirring of my heart for Sojourner Truth's story, she was born a slave. She worked her way out of slavery only to have her children sold into it. She fought and won freedom for her son. She was beat and forbid to marry the only man she ever loved. She was forced to marry another. She was enslaved by force..I was enslaved mostly by choice. Like Sojourner I "talk to the Lord and he talks to me". And like her I am a sojourner in a place that not my home. I've been a outcast and a rebel. My courage was replaced by passivity and fear. My truth has been silence by the shame of bad decisions and fear of rejection. And yet like Sojouner he speaks to me. He said tell the truth. Sojourner stood bold in the face of her oppressor and proclaimed freedom in Jesus name, She stood up against the religious spirit. Isn't that the same spirit that crucified Jesus, that has caused many babes in Christ to run away from the religious community never to return. The same spirit that told me to sit down and shut up when the fire of God burned deep in my heart. That fire is no longer a smothering heap of ashes from the past. He has put a fresh fire inside of my heart. And it burns with desire for the truth of my beloved. Sojourner is America's Mother of truth. I'm the daughter of grace. Her life was a testimony of freedom in Christ, mine is a testimony of grace and redemption and freedom. "Tell the truth", those words echo in my heart. My daddy had it wrong I wont die and go to hell for what I believe, I will die and go home..I'm a sojourner, and ain't I a woman?

Fearless

Pearls of a great price

Again the kingdom of heaven is like into a merchant man, seeking goodly pearls: Who when he had found one pearl of a great price, went and sold all he had and, and brought it.
Matt 13:45, 46 KJV

I listen intensely as Jody reads the scripture. My finger massage the smooth surface of the pearl, a present from my pastors Alyosha and Jody. They have just returned from China. This is the first time I've seen Jody in several weeks. I missed her. Jody is my safe person, the first one I've had in my whole Christian walk. That's the sad truth of twenty years of church abuse and the authoritarian movement. I feed on her love like a hungry babe feeds on it's mother breast. I came to her and Alyosha hungry for love in the body of Christ. I have been wounded by the people I thought would love me. I have travel the road of the cross. I was lonely, rejected, persecuted and hated without a cause. I bore it all with silent prayer.

Alyosha and Jody brought the women in our women group a pearl necklace back from China. Each was different and had one exquisite pearl. Jody tells us of the story of how her and Alyosha spent hours picking each one, making sure all were perfect. she said that we were all different and perfect..a pearl of a great price. We all carry something special, love from the Father. She asked us to remember that every time we wear the necklace. Jody is the embodiment of a pearl of a great price and a great blessing to me. Her and Alyosha are as much a gift to me as the pearl that I hold tenderly between my fingers.

fearless

Recovery

A last love
proper in conclusion
should snip the wings
forbidding further flight
But I, now,
reft of that confusion
am lifted up
and speeding toward the light

Recovery by Maya Angelou

That's for all the hurting women, whose last attempt at romance snipped your love wings forbidding you further flight. For every tear that was shed recently. For the way you grasped for understanding as you looked in the mirror wondering why you're not lovable. For all the hurt and disappointment you suffered at the hands of the men that should have loved you. For the way you've looked for meaningful words when there is none forthcoming. For the end of the pain medication that's used to try to numb the pain that's much deeper. For all the beautiful fragile flowers of God's garden, It's time to recover. We deserve to be loved richly

Speeding toward the light,
Fearless

Love's Tender Eyes

I look in the mirror one last time. I have on waterproof mascara and lipstick that last all day. I want to be beautiful today though my hair has gotten to long and fuzzy to make sense. I'm on my way out to sit between real beauty. I want to look beyond the graying hair and frown lines on my forehead. My mother stand behind me annoyed at my ability to maintain the family record of being the last one ready. She makes a statement about my pants being to tight and my butt to big. I ignore both. I refuse to be annoyed today. Yesterday was enough.

I remember the icy stare of hatred and the wild-eye look of mental instability. Those were the eyes of an enemy that stared back at me yesterday. I wish I could say I handled it well, that I was Jesus to them. Maybe I did resemble Jesus. The Jesus that turned over the money table because he was angry and discussed. My flesh desired to tear at those eyes because sometimes I think I can fight my own battles. Mostly I wanted God to be my pitbull and attack my enemies. Sort of like he did for Moses when he opened the ground and swallow up his enemies. He didn't.

We walk into the restaurant my friend Stella, my mother and I. The walls are a deep mahogany the decor is masculine but chic. We are met by the rich aroma of baked apples and potpourri. As the waiter ushers us to a table; I look in the eyes of my favorite patient. She's ninety-four years old and beautiful. She came from old money and she has had a passion for sailing most of her life. She fought and won the right to sail in races against men back when such a thing was unheard of and scandalous. Against all odds she won the races too. She has outlived all of her relatives and her only son. I love her dearly and sometimes I call her just to check on her. She says I'm a bully and crazy but she loves me anyway. She's sharp and fiesty and she always gives me a hard time. I give her a quick hug and introduce her to my mother and Stella.

Stella is eighty-six years old and my dearest friend whom I worship with in a Messianic Jewish congregation. She prays for me and encourages me to follow my dreams. She believes in me and helps me believe in myself. Stella life has never been easy. She left home at fifteen because of her mothers indifference to her beautiful female child. She's down to earth, funny and beautiful and I make-up holidays to celebrate her. She teaches me Jewish prayers and whispers to others that she loves me, as she asked them not to tell me. I love her dearly.

My mother raised eight of her nine children mostly single-handed. She has always been there to pick me up when I fall. She has endured more then her share of tragedy with a strength that could only be born in suffering. She loved me through childhood illness, teenage rebellion, as well as adult failures and mistakes. She has dealt with my selfishness, insensitivity and indifference without ever once complaining. She is self-sacrificing, soft, gentle and very wise. She's prayed me through the worse of times. Her love has never failed. She's beautiful and I love her dearly.

As we eat food we can barely afford,Prime rib and lobster and drink wine and margarita. Stella gives me a prophetic toast that Mr Wonderful is coming soon, I said good I'm tired of the Mr Not-So-Hot's. We get tipsy and giggle like schoolgirls as Stella flirts with the thirty-three year old waiter. Then my patient slowly makes her way to our table. She says she just want to tell my mother what a wonderful nurse and person I am. Then Stella join in and they say the most wonderful things about me. I look up into three pair of eyes that love me. Eyes that transcend race, culture, time and financial status. Eyes that have known hate, prosecution, prejudice and rejection. Eyes that have cried themselves to sleep. Eyes that turned away in tears when they had to give away the children they loved because they couldn't financially care for them. Eyes that watched helplessly as their child took his last breath. Eyes that were turned black and blue by the men they loved who should have loved them. Eyes that have known pleasure and pain. Eyes that have found a place in love where failure is in the past and there is only grace in the future. Eyes that really love me, and I'm glad I'm wearing waterproof mascara.

And maybe the eyes that were hateful and icy, wild and unstable are the same kind of eyes, just closer to the pain. Maybe my eyes shouldn't judge or condemn, but should look with the same love and understanding that I received today. The tender eyes of love.

And you know what, my pants are to tight and my butt is to big, but I feel beautiful.
Fearless

Love Story

I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine: he feeds among the lilies.
Song 6:3 KJV

Yesterday I was invited to a dinner at a good friend's home, her home is beautiful. I fell in love with the landscape and view. Her place is off the beach with the backyard overlooking the river complete with her own private pier. There's an oak bench that sits in the center of the backyard near the pier. I sit in silent meditation while everyone else mingles and socializes. That's semi-normal for me, I'm sometimes awkward and shy, introverted and alone. Other times I'm friendly and loud, full of laughter and joy. Today joy feels like a unattainable mystery that God has hidden from me. The scenery is perfect but I am not. I'm shattered and broken, like shard glass, in a million small pieces. My way is foggy and uncertain. The water is loud and brooding like my soul. I listen to the sounds of the crashing waves, in the river of despondency.

My beloved spoke and said unto me Rise up my love my fair one and come away
Song 2:10 KJV

"What's troubling you so?" he ask. I reply as I did previously "You know", "Are you questioning my knowledge of the fact that you are God?" "No" he replies I'm questioning your knowledge of the depth of my love for you."You see, I loved you when we first thought of you. I loved you when you were knitted together in your mother's womb. I loved you when you were tiny and fragile, asthmatic and weak. I loved you when you were a skinny kid with poor coordination, all skin and bones, rolling eyes and smart comments.

His left hand is under my head and his right hand doth embrace me
Song 2:6 KJV

"Yes, but do you love me when I'm full of lust and desires? When I rather settle for lust because love seems to vast and great for my selfish nature? Did you love me when I willingly participated as my friend tried on his male whore shoes? When I'm wet and messy full of secrets and fears? Did you love me when I was all hands and arms, groping, feeling, touching places that are sacred?  All because I want to be loved. Did you love me when I felt desirable but undesired? Did you love me when I was rejected like the last kid on the playground to be picked? Do you love me when I'm crazy, unbalanced and full of the emotions that I know I shouldn't have? Do you love me when I run from your love; only to run to it when my light is dim? Did you love me when the flower of my virtue appeared as withered as a unscented piece of potpourri? Did you love me then?"

I am the rose of Sharon and the lily of the valley
Song 2:1 KJV

"Yes, I love you especially then. I love you when you are confused and unwilling to trust me. When you are selfish and self-centered full of manipulation and lies. I love you when you stumble that's why I never let you fall. You see, I loved you as I counted every hair on your head. When I bottled every tear you ever shed. I love you when you walked away from me to follow other gods. I cried as you walked away. I loved you as I searched high and low for you, only to be met with indifference. I loved you when you rejected my love like the last child picked on the playground. I loved you when I felt desirable but undesired. Did you doubt my love when I accepted you back without hesitation? Did you doubt me then?

I sleep but my heart waketh, it is the voice of my beloved that knocked, saying open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled for my head is filled with dew and my locks with drops of the night
Song 5:2 KJV

As I sat with teary-eyed amazement pondering the greatness of his love against my smallness. I watched as the clouds hid the moon and formed a heart shape formation that appeared to be surrounded by ribs. I felt an overwhelming warmth that seems to ingulf every fiber of my being. I realized that I was in the center of his heart listening to the warmth of his life force. And it was great and vast and higher then any thoughts I had. Lately I have wanted to lay on someones chest and listen to their heartbeat, a life force, to love and be loved. I have wanted to belong to someone. And my beloved willingly participated in my quirky love Jones, because his love is bigger that my smallness. His love is warm and fuzzy, overwhelming and intoxicating. I woke this morning to the sound of my heartbeat it was loud and fast with a rhythm reserved for my beloved.

I am my beloved and his desire is toward me.
Song 7:10

Fearless

Spinning

When I was a child I used to spin around in a circle until I got dizzy. I would fall to the ground and look up at the clouds and watch them spin. I would repeat this game until I would feel nauseated and have to quit before I lost my last meal. My brother Jimmy told me that the earth moved continuously and we had to spin to feel it. He also told me that we could dig a hole to China. We attempted that feat once, my grandma made us pick a switch ourselves for the spanking we got when she saw the hole we made in the backyard; not to mention the time she had trying to clean the dirt out of my hair. However it's the spinning I've been reflecting on today...
That's what my life feels like lately as if I'm spinning in one big circle and I'm falling to the ground dizzy, trying to feel the earth move. I'm a stranger in this land, a sojourner in a place that is not my home. Everything feels foreign, even my emotions seem counterfeit. I do the same things, but I'm strangely detached. I pray and ..nothing. No lighthearted banter from the lover of my soul, no stern rebukes just this unbearable silence. This silence is terrifying, I try to remember his last words to me. My mind is so crowded with the debris of self-pity and doubt the words just refuse to come to me. I scan the bible in hopes of finding a scripture that would alleviate my suffering; a word to draw faith from..nothing. I feel so empty right now, alone in a place where no one knows my name. All I want is Jesus; I want to dwell in his presence and remove my shoes because I'm on holy ground..nothing.
He is silent and like David my plea is please don't take your holy spirit from me. Where are you Lord? I know he will never leave me or forsake me, but his silence unbearable...no it's not the silence that I can't bear, it's my thoughts that I can not bear. Every fear that I have ever entertained has made an unannounced appearance to fill the void of this silence. I keep spinning in a circle going from faith to fear and back again. I'm dizzy and falling, the earth is moving and I'm just laying on the ground looking up. I'm waiting to be able to rise again.

Heart palpitations and Hospitalization

I just got out of the hospital, I stayed three days and two nights. I make it sound like a vacation resort, and it was a nightmare. Don't get me wrong the staff were really wonderful especially the nurses. I just found it a little disarming to change places. I was no longer the nice nurse; I was the disgruntle patient. I took my role very serious. They say medical people make the worst patients...they told the truth.

Lately I have been having heart palpitations, the day I went into the emergency room it had gotten so bad that it scared me worse then the other times. My sister Jill and I where in the car, I felt the increase in my heart rate and the blood rush to my head and my heart felt as if it would beat out of my chest. It had been going on for over a month and I had not mentioned it to anyone; I decided to break my silence that day so I said "Jill something is wrong with me", she said "What?", I said "I don't know my chest hurt". I was so matter of fact she didn't see any cause for alarm. I want to go to emergency.

We enter the emergency room, I'm glad to see that it is empty except for one other person, he's reading a newspaper and for some reason he looks to me as if he's waiting for someone already in the back instead of waiting to go back..Maybe it's the calm resignation on his face. I fill out a form for the triage nurse. I know from my many years of triage that I will go straight to the back. The triage nurse takes one look at my chief complaint and calls me to the back. I look back to see if the man reading the newspaper is irritated; so I could give him my best sorry they called me first look. I'm not sorry it's just another heart sickness that I have chose to ignore. The nurse checks my vitals and runs to get a wheelchair. He said he doesn't want me walking as he pulls up with an oversize wheelchair like the ones my three hundred plus pounds patients use. I think of a smart remark to make about the size of the wheelchair, I don't say it..criticism disguised as humor). My heart is racing. I try to get Jill's attention her head is down and she's reading. I'm disappointed that she missed my dramatic exit.(I have no words for that)

The nurse rushes me to the back calling out "Chest pains and tachycardia". The next minute I was in a room surrounded by nurses and medical staff shooting questions, removing clothing, sticking with needles and applying electrodes. All this took place in less then seven minutes. When they where satisfied that I was completely discombobulated they left the room assuring me that the doctor would come to see me shortly. I pick up one of the three magazines I grabbed from the waiting room. As I scanned the front cover for an article of interest the doctor walks in. I think to myself (these people are fast) as I wonder if I was the first patient they had all day. He asked the same questions that two or three other staff members had asked previously. Another rude remark crosses my mind as I look into the softness of his sea blue eyes and melt into the warmth of his smile. I answer his questions with a smile of my own, his smile is contagious. He leaves the room content with my answers. Sure that I was not a code blue.

Dr. Colgate Smile returns twenty minutes later and ask if I drink water, I say "Of course I drink water", he says "Well you are dehydrated", "Well obviously not ENOUGH water", I say and he laughs and promises to let me leave as soon as I finish the IV drip. I promise to drink more water. I look at the IV as he leaves the room, and think to myself I'll be leaving shortly. This was not to be so.

He walks into the room and there is something about his presence that says authority, he is short and balding and wearing a scowl instead of a smile; I want Dr. Colgate Smile back. he introduces himself to me and all I hear is "The head of", he pulled rank, and told me that they are going to keep me overnight for observation and a stress test in the morning. Dr. Colgate Smile walks in with a sheepish look on his face and asked me was I disappointed with him. I felt bad for him and took an instant dislike for the mean, Head Dr. Scowly Face (was that a judgment). My heart races.

Jill brings me the bag I had packed and left in the trunk for "Just in case they keep me", it was full of pajamas, books and toiletries and it was heavy. The orderly weighed my bag and it weighed twenty pounds, that was a standing joke between staff for the whole of my stay. I settled in the room with quiet resignation until the nurse told me that I would have to wear the hospital gown to bed so that I wouldn't disturb the electrodes and IV. I refuse, I protest, I plead. Then the phone rings it's my mother. I whine and complain I don't want to wear a hospital gown. She agrees with me that hospital gowns shouldn't be an issue. We hang up and my sister Mair calls, I whine and complain she agrees with me also, we hang up. My sister Gina calls I'm still whining she tells the nurse that Divas don't wear hospital gowns or anything else that would leave our asses out. Finally the nurse laughs and gives in (was that murmuring and complaining along with a strong dose of pride and vanity) I put on blue and pink pj's yet I have the strangest feeling that my ass is out, I definitely just showed it!). My heart races. Father what's wrong with my heart.

Day one has ended.

It gets worse!...or should I say I get worse?

Carried

He sweeps me in his arm with very little effort on his part, he's strong and I am weak. I can not walk it's to painful. My body is wrecked with fever my feet are swollen and blistered. I need medical attention he needs to comfort and reassure his baby that daddy is here. I try to make out what's going on, I know my daddy is with me. I put my arms around his neck and gently relax my head on his chest, I smell the scent of old spice and cigarettes. He carries me to the car and places me on the back seat. I hear the sound of my mother's voice in the background "Give her her pillow", one of my many siblings handed me my animal pillow. It's a lion my mother handmade from a pattern she purchased from McCall's, I slept with it every night. My sister Jill said "She's hot enough to fry an egg on", my brother Jimmy told her to shut up, that I was sick and it's not funny. I mentally thanked him. The car broke down on our way to the hospital and he carries me the rest of the way. The memory is dark, but clear. Like an old yellow stained cobweb overrun bottle, clear but the luster is gone.

Father why did you bring this back to me now? I was six years old when that happened.

I wanted you to remember how much you trusted your earthly father to carry you when you were to weak to walk.

Why? I know you, you have something to tell me, to teach me what is it?

I love you more.

I know.

I can carry you. Can you trust me to carry you?

Yes, please carry me; I'm so weak right now.

I am.