Peace From Broken Pieces: How to Get Through What You're Going Through

  I was amazed at the cost of fresh fruits and vegetables. No wonder poor people have bad health. Gemmia needed about 40 pounds of carrots a week to keep her supplied with fresh juice. In addition to that, Yawfah wanted everything to be organic so that we would know we were not putting any unknown chemicals into her body. Six pounds of grapes is one thing. Six pounds of organic grapes takes the cost up by about $8. It had been a long time since I had counted pennies, cashed in bottles, or borrowed money from anyone. Everything I had saved was gone. Everything Gemmia had was long gone. In fact, one day when she was feeling pretty good, she took herself down to the County Court and filed for child support. She told me that in her entire life, Jimmy had never given her money. He had purchased a few things here and there, but he had never put cash money in her hands, and she was sick of it. Wow! Another family pattern. My children’s fathers had never made a financial contribution to their lives. After several weeks of Jimmy missing court dates, she was awarded $150 per month. He was to pay it directly to her. What a victory!

  In the midst of her illness, the victory of her awarded child support was short lived, because Jimmy had told her to deposit the check on one date and she deposited it earlier. His tirade over this mistake left her drained and depleted.

  I, on the other hand, had no such luck. I had friends who had money. I just couldn’t bring myself to ask them for any. I knew people who had money. I wouldn’t even entertain the thought of asking them. I had helped so many people, invested in so many others. Now that I needed help, I had nowhere to go. But I had a community of people who loved and supported me. They didn’t have money, but they gave what they had—their time and a few carrots here and there. So I focused on the blessings I did have. I had to stay positive because it seemed that Gemmia had become hypersensitive to me and everything about me.

  She was telling people that I was going crazy. She told them that I would go out and stay for hours and come back like nothing had ever happened. What she didn’t know, though the others did, was that there were many days when I would get lost, literally. I was so physically exhausted and emotionally drained that I would lose my way going home. One night, I drove past my exit off the Beltway. It took me a tearful hour to get my bearings. I also heard that Gemmia was furious about what was going on at Inner Visions. She had worked for the last 12 years of her life, given everything she had to build that place, and she said I was running it into the ground. That is what she said about me behind my back. What she said to my face was quite often worse.

  When Gemmia told me that she had called her father, I was really happy for her. She told me that he was going to fix the cabinets in her kitchen and do some other work to get the house ready for sale. He was a master carpenter, so I was sure that would save her some money. Then she told me that she had to buy the supplies for him. That sent ice water rushing through my veins, though I didn’t say a word. This man who had never given me or her one single penny was asking her to buy his supplies? This man who had disappeared for almost ten years wanted his daughter to buy his supplies? This man who had remarried and had a son the same age as Niamoja wanted his only daughter, his eldest child, to buy his supplies? It was a disgrace! I thought it but I didn’t say it. The worst part was that Gemmia was okay with it.

  He told her he would come on Saturday to pick up the money. When she told him she didn’t have it, he said she should call when she was ready. I was livid but I didn’t say a word.

  One Sunday, he did come by to take her to church with him. The service lasted from 10 A.M. until 3 p.m. Afterwards, they stayed for a lunch of traditional church food: fried chicken, mac and cheese, and cakes and pies. She arrived home after 5 P.M. starving. Was he crazy? Did he realize that this woman was fighting cancer? How could he keep her out all day and not make sure she had something she could eat? She was just glad to spend time with her father. I could see very clearly that I had taught my daughter to accept the worst of all treatment from men. I had taught her that crumbs were tasty treats and that she should rejoice when they were being offered. I was furious with him. I was outraged with myself!

  I talked to Yawfah about it. She agreed with me but said that it was something Gemmia needed to do. She needed to know that her father wanted to be in her life. In fact, Yawfah also agreed with me that on most days Gemmia was reliving her life at age 13. At that age, she wasn’t angry with her father, she was in a total rage at her mother. I knew that also. Yawfah said they had talked a lot about her feelings and Gemmia was still an avid journal writer. Yawfah had her on a program of journal writing three times a day to express what she was feeling. Then we talked about something else I already knew and had been avoiding.

  Any spiritual healer on the planet would probably tell you that at the root of all cancer is a seed of anger. When anger festers, it promotes cancer in the physical body. Some people bring the anger into this life with them. Others experience anger throughout their lives and stuff it down. This does not mean they don’t feel anger. It means that they deflect it. They camouflage it. Yes, I did know that Gemmia was angry. I also knew most of the anger she felt was directed toward me. Now that her resistance was so low, she was emotionally vulnerable and her true feelings were rising to the surface. Gemmia mentioned that she had not heard from her father in a few weeks. I could feel the sadness attached to her observation. I asked if I could help. She said no and we left it at that.

  But, thinking about what Yawfah had said and remembering my experiences with Gemmia’s father, I felt a little motherly intervention was required. I called her father and left him a message. I thought the message was very clear and direct, delivered with care and concern. I told him that Gemmia was in a very vulnerable place right now and that she needed to know that she could trust him. I suggested that he should stay in closer touch with her, and if he made any promises, he should keep them, because she didn’t need any further disappointments. I concluded by saying that I was at home and if he needed clarity, he should call me. Fifteen minutes later, Gemmia called instead.

  “I know you don’t mean any harm and I know you think you are being helpful but I really need you to stay out of my business.”

  I knew I had to tread very lightly.

  “Okay, but can you tell me what you are talking about?”

  “I’m talking about you telling my father that I don’t trust him.”

  “That is not what I said, Gemmia.”

  “I want to know why you think you had to say anything at all. I am a grown woman, and thanks to you, I know how to take care of myself.”

  “Can I explain what I said?”

  “Go ahead.”

  I told her about the message I left and why I had left it. I didn’t want her to be disappointed. I told her that I had asked him to call me. I wasn’t clear about why he had called her and given her inaccurate information to boot.

  “If I need you to do something for me, I will call. If I need you to say something for me, I will let you know. This is none of your business.” y this point, she was crying.

  “Gemmia, please forgive me. I do apologize, and you are absolutely right. Your relationship with your father is none of my business. I guess I just wanted him to know how important this is for you.”

  “How do you know what is important to me? You never ask me. You just run around doing whatever you want because you think it is important. This is none of your business, and you need to stay out of it.”

  Can I tell you that my heart was broken? Can I tell you that the pain and remorse I felt in that moment was like going through 80 hours of labor and giving birth to triplets all at the same time? Here I was running up and down the road like a maniac, giving every fiber of my being, every ounce of my life, and this was how she spoke to me. What had I done that was so bad?

  Then Gemmia’s friend Erika called. Apparently, she was with Gemmia and had heard what Gemmia said to me. She wanted to know if I was all right. No, I wasn’t, and chances were that I never would be. Erika said she thoug
ht Gemmia was just being protective of the relationship with her father. Then she drove the stake deeper into my heart.

  “You know she blames you for him not being in her life. And she is very angry about the way you told her about him.”

  “We have already had that conversation. Why is that up again?”

  “I don’t know, but right now, I think it is best for you to stay away from him and from her.”

  “What do you mean, stay away from her?”

  “I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”

  “That’s crazy. Is that what she said?”

  “Well, kinda.”

  “What do you mean, kinda? Did she say that or not?”

  “I know it’s hard for you right now. It is hard for both of you. That is what she said. But you know how she is right now. She will probably change her mind tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Erika. Thanks for calling.”

  I didn’t hear from Gemmia for 11 days. I thought I was losing my mind. Yawfah talked to her at least three or four times a day. According to Yawfah, Gemmia was very remorseful; she knew I was hurt, but she was also angry. All of this, according to Yawfah, was normal. It was the disease. It was the medication. It was the healing process. I just needed to hold on and not take it personally. Instead, I called Gemmia’s father again. I asked him why he hadn’t called me. I told him that Gemmia did not want to see me and that she was home alone. I told him that this would be a good time for him to step up and be there for her. I found out from Gemmia later that he never called her back. He never called me either.

  When Gemmia did call, she told me that the growth in her navel was a tumor. It was getting bigger. She had been to the doctor. The doctor didn’t want to operate yet. Instead, he wanted her to do another six weeks of chemo. She was going to do it because she wanted to be in L.A. by January 15.

  She was starting next week. I asked if she wanted me to go with her. She asked me if I had the time. We never talked about her father again. The kitchen cabinets were never repaired.

  Sometimes when you fall down, you just have to lie still, and hope that no one runs over you. If they don’t and you lay there long enough, taking care to be very still, breathing slowly, refusing to whine, God will lift you and perform a soul surgery.

  CHAPTER 17

  LIFE AND DEATH

  The tension between Gemmia and me had eased somewhat, but she was quiet and distant. I couldn’t tell if it was the result of our blow-up or if she was feeling just that awful. Although she denied it, her weight still seemed to be dropping. As she dropped weight, the tumor seemed to be growing larger. It was now the size of a walnut and protruding through her navel. She was in good spirits, though. Her bedroom and living room were filled with the boxes she had packed. She had a yard sale and got rid of the things she did not want, including clothes and shoes. I sure wished we wore the same size shoe. We didn’t, but Danni and Yawfah made out like fat rats!

  We were on our way out the door to what we hoped would be her last round of chemotherapy when the telephone rang. It was my friend Susan from New York calling to check in on Gemmia. She had gotten a call from Dr. Nyuen, the acupuncturist. He was very concerned that she had not returned for additional treatments. I explained that Gemmia could not stand the needles. My friend said she would let him know.

  Chemo that day wasn’t bad at all. Praying as I usually did, I asked for her suffering to end and that she be filled with the Spirit of wholeness and wellness. One of the nurses asked me to pray aloud, but Gemmia said it would embarrass her. We got through the treatment and made it home without incident. Yawfah was coming in later that day, and her arrival always lifted Gemmia’s spirits.

  The next morning, while the three of us were sipping tea, Susan called again. She said that Dr. Nyuen insisted that I bring Gemmia in as soon as possible. He was afraid that if we did not continue her treatment, treatment other than chemo, we would lose her. Susan asked me to try to convince Gemmia that it would be best for her to go.

  I went into the bathroom, where I could talk. Then I revealed the real issue. I didn’t have the money to get Gemmia to New York or to pay for the treatment. Before I could stop myself, the nightmare of my financial reality spilled out. I didn’t have time to be ashamed. Susan listened silently before she responded, “If you can convince her to come, I will take care of it. I have seen what this man can do and he is good.”

  I motioned Yawfah aside and told her what my friend had said and what she wanted us to do. Yawfah was all for it. Transportation was our biggest concern, as Gemmia might have been too weak to take the long drive. We were also worried about taking her on an airplane, although the flight was only 45 minutes. We decided to let Gemmia decide, once she had agreed to go. Yawfah sent me to the store for more grapes. She would talk to Gemmia.

  By the time I returned, the deal was done. Bright and early the next morning, Susan sent a limo and a driver to Gemmia’s home. He was to take us to New York. Gemmia, Yawfah, Lydia, and I piled into the car as if we were going to a ball. When we arrived at the doctor’s office, all of her treatments and her herbal teas had been paid for. In order to make sure she kept up her treatments, we had been provided with a suite in a private hotel. It was a blessing beyond anything I could have imagined.

  We decided that Lydia and I would return to Maryland to take care of the children and Yawfah would stay in New York with Gemmia. I talked to them twice a day, once before they went to treatments and once when they returned. The good news is that the acupuncture treatments helped Gemmia sleep. The bad news is that the pain woke her up. The nights were really rough on Gemmia, on Yawfah, and on me. By the third day, I could not stop crying. I felt awful for leaving Gemmia in New York. Sure, she loved Yawfah, and Yawfah comforted her in ways Gemmia would not allow me to, but I was her mother. I felt I should be with her. By the fifth day, Gemmia couldn’t keep anything in her stomach, and Dr. Nyuen said she was dehydrated. He suggested that we take her home for the weekend, take her to her oncologist, ask him to give her IV fluids, and bring her back on Monday.

  Danni bought two plane tickets because I barely had gas money to get to the airport. I realized on the way there that my entire body was trembling and I could not make it stop. It didn’t help that once I arrived at the airport, the police officers kept chasing me away from the pick-up area. It was a cold December day, and I did not want Gemmia to spend one minute longer than necessary out of doors. I saw Yawfah first. She was pretty hard to miss in her huge, beautiful gele head wrap. At first I didn’t see Gemmia. Then I noticed the airport escort pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair was my Gemmia, my precious jewel. Her skeletal frame was swallowed up by her ski jacket. Her face was so small and sunken, her knit cap almost covered her eyes. This could not be the woman I left in New York five days ago! When she saw me, she smiled and attempted to wave her hand. I fell to my knees, put my head in her lap and wept. Once again, I knew. I knew but I could not, would not accept it. I just wouldn’t!

  We took her directly to the hospital. Her oncologist had called and given the orders for her to be placed on an IV. But she was in terrible pain, and the doctor had forgotten to leave orders for pain medication. I called Dr. Mussenden. After about two hours of agony, Gemmia was resting peacefully. I, on the other hand, was losing my mind. As she slept, I inspected her body. What I saw has been etched into my mind, and I am sure it will remain there until I take my last breath.

  The tumor had tripled in size and was now hanging out of her body. She looked like a skeleton with a thin layer of flesh, beautiful brown sagging flesh. Every bone in her body protruded through her flesh; every rib, every vertebra, her knuckle joints—every single bone was exposing itself through her skin. The final straw was that she was wearing a diaper. There was nothing Yawfah could say about it other than Gemmia didn’t always have the strength to make it into the bathroom. Yawfah and I just stared and hung onto one another. We didn’t realize that Gemmia had opened her eyes and was staring at us stari
ng at her.

  “Are you two doing some kind of spell, or are you in deep meditation?”

  Walking was out of the question, so I carried her in my arms to the car. As I was lowering her into the seat, I banged her head on the roof of the car. Gemmia said she would never let me forget it. Over the course of the next week, she did not. I had to carry her to the car again on Monday morning to take her to the doctor’s office. He told me that he was going to stop her treatments. He suggested that I find hospice care for her. My body somehow found itself plastered to the wall outside of the office while he went back into the room and told Gemmia. I wheeled her out of his office, down to the car, where I made sure not to hit her head. She remained silent all the way home. I carried her upstairs and put her in the bed. The moment her butt cheeks hit the sheets she said:

  “That m—— f——! He pumped my body full of that s——, and now he wants to discard me. He really thinks I am going to die, but I refuse to do that! I refuse to leave my daughter, and I refuse to let this thing win!”

  Her voice was so strong I almost believed her. She reached for the telephone and called Yawfah. They talked for hours, creating a plan of action. When she hung up, she told me that Yawfah was glad she wasn’t going to do any more chemo. She gave me the list of things that Yawfah had prescribed and asked me to run her a bath. Bathing was one of the things she did every day, three or four times a day, because the warm water helped her muscles. I did as I was told. I ran the bath and then carried her into the bathroom. She put herself in the tub, and that was a good sign. Now, all I needed to do was find the money to purchase all of the new things she was going to need.