Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)

By L. Darlene

"Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)" is an epistolary novel documenting a 37-day journey through the author’s life, wherein she faced her father’s swiftly declining health due to an aggressive cancer that surgery (a Glossectomy that partially removed his tongue) failed to eradicate. The father/daughter relationship was further complicated because she hadn’t seen him in eight years, and he had been absent all of her adult life. Her relationships with her mentally-challenged, narcissistic, and toxic mother, as well as with her vodka-swilling ex-husband, reared their ugly heads as her father lost his battle with cancer. The author’s emotions could not remain compartmentalized any longer, and her belief system in herself, and in God, gets tested. "Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)" is filled with raw emotion, honesty, self-reflection, humor, music, and Scripture, and is the follow-up to the author’s first book entitled "Thirty-Seven Days and One Life (A Memoir)".

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329587649

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Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)

Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)

Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)

Copyright © 2015 by L. Darlene

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, photocopied, recorded, or transmitted in any form, or by any electronic or mechanical means (including storage and retrieval systems, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of L. Darlene.

Some names have been altered to protect the privacy of the individuals and/or organizations.

Marketing Image, photography, proofreading, and editing by L. Darlene.

After A While © 1971 by Veronica A. Shoffstall.

Second Edition: November 2015

ISBN: 978-1-329-58764-9

Printed in the United States of America

In a world where

you can be anything…

BE YOURSELF!

JANUARY 2, 2015

I had an emotional breakdown today. As I was preparing my breakfast, another flood of emotions welled up inside of me, and I cried a good cry. I became overwhelmed by such sadness over how, and for how long, my father suffered before going Home to be with our Lord, and it hurt knowing that he must have been frightened towards the end because he knew that he was dying. Then my brain switched over, and I thanked God for giving me time with him during his final days. I keep telling myself that it’s okay for me to be feeling whatever I’m feeling, because I’ve never felt it before – I need to experience this grief! I’m giving myself a pass, and I’m glad that I’m grieving alone. I don’t think that people really mean what they say when they tell you call me if you need to talk and/or if you need anything because, in all honesty, who wants to deal with a woman who’s making breakfast one minute, and sobbing the next? I know that Jesus will be my strength throughout this mourning period, and that I’m seeing only one set of footprints in the sand. And, as long as my brain eventually switches over to understanding and remembering that, and giving God thanks and praise, I’ll be fine.

Still, I can’t stop thinking about my father today, and the tears and sobbing are coming when I least expect them to. As much as I want to forget his face as he lay in his bed dying from the cancer overtaking his body and his brain, I’m compelled to keep looking at the picture that I took of him when I was at his bedside. (I took a picture of death on my father’s face! Who does that?!). I also can’t help reading a note that he mailed to me just the day before his surgery; a surgery that was extremely invasive, but one that we hoped would rid his body of this demonic cancer. As with anything that I don’t have knowledge of, I researched the procedure (a Glossectomy, which is the partial removal of the tongue), and read as much as I could about what it entailed, the success rate, the after-effects, and the quality of life that could be had post-surgery. I also found a blog by survivors who were living for years post-surgery, and being able to read their opinions and stories gave me great comfort and faith regarding my father’s recovery.

I don’t post much on Facebook, and I use it primarily to glean information about what’s being done with my Nana. My relatives are on Facebook every day, and they comment on and Like every post, even if it’s just a picture of someone’s food who wrote look what I had for dinner tonight, FB fam! I’m always amused when that elicits 20+ comments, and twice the Likes! On July 27, 2014, I posted my father’s cancer diagnosis on Facebook (without his or my mother’s knowledge), because I felt that people in my family who knew and loved him would want to know that (a) his cancer had returned, and that (b) he was having a very extreme surgery on August 8th to hopefully eradicate his cancer. I posted the medical information as well so that they, too, could have an understanding of what he was facing, and I emphasized that post-surgery he would not be able to speak. I included his contact information (phone and mailing address) in case any one of the ten or so people who knew him personally could call or write him if they chose to. The only thing that I asked for was that they all stand in agreement with me for my father’s healing, and I also asked them to please pray for him.

When my father and I spoke the day before his surgery, I asked if anyone from the family had reached out to him, and he said that Aunt A had. Only Aunt A? I asked. Yes, he said. I dropped the subject, but my family’s apathy towards my father’s situation was not lost on me. He said that he wanted to send me some money, and that he knew that I needed some. He was right (don’t I always?), but I told him to not send me anything, and that I would be fine. He insisted, and then said that he wouldn’t have much need for money in the future anyway. On August 13th, I received an envelope from him dated August 7th, and inside was a check for $50 dollars. I hurt for him because I knew that the money was a huge sacrifice for him. There was also a short note, which read:

I love you. By the time you get this note, I will no longer be able to speak, so from now on you will have to write me, or let your mom know what to tell me. I hope and pray that God will look out for me. I hope that those few dollar will help you in some way. Love you. Dad

Dad.

FATHER GOD, PLEASE HELP ME! Please heal my broken heart! Please bring me the comfort that I so desperately need during this painful and challenging time in my life! I know that my father is with You, and that his soul is free; still, I’m struggling with all of my emotions concerning him – both pre- and post-death – and I need the Holy Spirit to minister to me. And, I know that no matter the state of my relationship with my mother, I will feel ten times the pain and anguish if she dies before me. I’m hurting so much! I’m trying to hold on, but being alone through all of this hurts beyond anything that I’ve experienced before. Please help me! Please.

My hands, legs, and feet are so swollen today, and the inflammation is painful. I look and feel like the Michelin Man! And, it seems that my eyesight has deteriorated somewhat over the past few months – I was able to see the time clearly on the cable box that’s across the room in my bedroom, but it has become blurry now. Is that going to be the offset to the blessing of immersing myself in my gift of writing? I pray not.

I’ve been out of my vitamins and supplements for quite some time due to the cost. Eating organically and trying to maintain good health costs money, boys and girls! Still, I’d rather plunk down what cash I have on supplements and organics, as opposed to doctor’s visits and prescription drugs whose side effects alone can kill you! When you have a stroke or die from the prescribed drugs, I suppose that the medical issue that you’re taking those pills for won’t be an issue any longer, right?

My back has been trying to go out for several weeks now. My joints are becoming more brittle, and my right shoulder, knees, and my hips are clearly showing signs of deterioration. I can’t take a step or reach for something without being subjected to the constant loud and audible pops, creaks, pain, and discomfort that indicate that these areas of my body are in decline. Because of the pain that I feel in my right shoulder, I can’t reach out or down with my right arm unless I support it with my left hand, and my right shoulder also creaks and locks up during the day. My hip bones pop, and my left knee feels out of joint so I have to stop to lock it into place several times over the course of a day. I’m massaging my right hand, wrist, and forearm constantly because of the tingling sensations running through them. I really hear the music that my body is playing, and I wish that I could turn the music off. I haven’t seen my Rheumatologist in several months, but I have an appointment to see him on January 9th.

MY VOW: This will not be my life again in this New Year!!! I will not continue to allow the devil (and his minions) to steal any more time from me! IT’S ENOUGH! Do you hear me, satan?!?! I’m coming for you, and my only desire is to kill you! I’m progressing, getting closer to God, and I’m getting stronger mentally. I know you’re scared of me, which is why you’re attacking me non-stop. My mind has been changed, and therefore my life will change. I need to suit up!

10 Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. 11 Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. 12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. 13 Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. 14 Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; 15 And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; 16 Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. 17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God: 18 Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints; (Ephesians 6:10-18, KJV, emphasis mine)

And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God. Romans 12:2, KJV, emphasis mine)

I’m starting my Vision Board today. If I can see the future that I so desire in front of me in a tangible way, maybe that will help my God-sized dreams, hopes, and desires to come to pass. Hey, Oprah and Steve Harvey have said that having a vision board is essential in their lives, and if it works for them, I don’t feel any shame behind emulating what two mega-successful people have done. If God so blessed them, as well as Tyler (Perry), Ellen (DeGeneres), and others like them, He can do it for me!

A song for me: "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" by whom else?! She’s my girl-crush!!!

My world it moves so fast today,

The past it seems so far away,

And life squeezes so tight that I can’t breathe,

And every time I try to be,

What someone else has thought of me,

So caught up, I wasn’t able to achieve.

CHORUS:

But deep in my heart,

The answer it was in me.

And I made up my mind,

To define my own destiny.

I look at my environment,

And wonder where the fire went,

What happened to everything we used to be?

I hear so many cry for help,

Searching outside of themselves,

Now I know that His strength is within me.

INSANITY

It’s approaching 7:00 p.m. on the evening of January 2, 2015, and I’ve decided that I must continue writing! I can’t explain it – as much as I now know that the writing process is going to deplete me emotionally and physically, it seems to be my newfound way to help me to keep my head, and heart, from exploding! Life, and death, reared their heads over the holidays, and they both took an immense spiritual, emotional, and physical toll on me as 2014 came to a close. In my first book, I mentioned that one of my favorite movies is "The Birdcage. There’s a scene in which Robin Williams is in panic-mode during a family dinner, and he describes his emotions by saying: It’s like riding a psychotic horse toward a burning stable!" Yeah, my life has been kinda like that lately. But, I know that as I continue to shine a light on my life and how I’m feeling (no matter what I’m feeling), the enemy of darkness will have less of a hold on me. There has been some progress!

So, as I’m in the process of re-editing my first book, "Thirty-Seven Days and One Life (A Memoir) – which turned out to be a 400+ page beast! – I will begin writing my second book which I’ve entitled Another Thirty-(Seven) Days (The Aftermath)". (I suppose that you know that already if you’re reading this!) It will give you a glimpse into my life – my diary – from November 27, 2014 (Thanksgiving) through the end of today, January 2, 2015. And, to add another layer to it (because, it is INSANITY, after all), I’m going to write the book in seven days, and I’ll stop as 7:00 p.m. on January 9th sneaks up on me. I’ve discovered that when I’m in the writing zone, time flies.

Pray for me, boys and girls, because I am obviously certifiable!!!

NOVEMBER 27, 2014 (Thanksgiving!)

I spent Thanksgiving morning with my Nana at her nursing home, and she didn’t believe that it was Thanksgiving! I proved it to her by turning on the annual Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade from New York, and when she saw that what I said was true, she started to cry. She asked why didn’t anyone tell me that it was Thanksgiving? I told her that they probably forgot what day it was themselves. In essence, I lied (as I always do these days to try to protect her from being hurt by the truth), which she apparently realized because she then said that this is how people treat you when you get old. No one tells you anything! I distracted her by making her focus on the parade with all of the floats and revelers. Her eyes lit up when she saw the Macy’s building, and she began to tell me all about 34th Street and how she used to shop there. It was nice to hear her reminisce a little. It then started to snow lightly, and she was full of glee about seeing that. I held her as Santa Claus made his appearance to close the parade, and we laughed our forced laughs together. The smiles on both of our faces belied the pain in our hearts, and several times during my visit I had to lie again by telling her that the people that she loves somehow forgot to tell her what day it was.

When the parade was over, the dog show that always comes on made us chuckle, especially when that breed of dog that looks like a mop trotted out! Do you clean a dog that looks like a mop with a mop? Hilarious!

But, I kept wondering why my Nana would not be sitting at her daughter’s table on a day specified for being with family and friends. Of course, I wasn’t expecting or even hoping for an invite to Aunt A’s table, plus I’m used to spending holidays and special occasions alone. But, I’m not too proud to confess how painful that feels, and I wanted to protect my Nana from feeling hurt like that. I barely had gas in my car to come visit with her, so I couldn’t even take her to dinner. It’s times like this when the consequences of my poor decision-making and misplaced trust regarding my finances over the years smacks me in my face, and my consequences prevent me from doing the things that I want to do for others. She shouldn’t have to sit at a table with people who are practically strangers when she has family living within a few miles away. I hate being broke! Doesn’t everyone?

Remember, boys and girls, it’s NOT money that’s the root of all evil, but THE LOVE OF money that’s the root of all evil. Money is a necessary tool in this world, and, if used properly, it can bless and uplift people in every area of their lives. On this Thanksgiving Day, all I wanted to do with money was to take my Nana to dinner in order to make her feel special and wanted… kinda like how I wanted to feel.

I am a member of a Mercedes Benz SLK owner’s blog, and there was an e-mail awaiting me when I got home. Within the e-mail was a link to what appeared to be an inexpensive fix for one of the many problems that I have had with my car since early 2012, and so many other SLK owners have had the same problem. These cars are known to have roof problems, some of which are caused by hydraulic fluid leaking into the headliners (which ultimately droop), there are cylinders in the roof and trunk that come into play as well, and eventually the roof stops operating. My real understanding of the issue is limited, but all I knew was that I had a convertible that didn’t convert; a drop top that didn’t drop! But, what really jumped out at me in this e-mail was that the member stated that the part that could fix the problem – an O ring – cost only $20 or so.

Of course, the dealerships are asking upwards of $2,000 to perform this roof repair, and so I was eager to forward the e-mail with the link to a young man who had replaced my spark plugs just days ago on November 23rd. He’s a college student who lives in a dorm community just ten minutes from me, and I actually met him through the same SLK blog. I didn’t expect a response – it was Thanksgiving, after all – but his dad, who assisted him with the spark plugs replacement, replied. He said that his son had never done this roof repair before, so it was déjà vu all over again because before his son replaced my spark plugs he had never done that repair before either! He said that the link that I forwarded was so informative that he felt confident that his son could do a little more research, and then could be successful in fixing my roof. With confidence like that coming from his father, how could his son not do what he put his mind to?!

We made plans to meet on Sunday, December 14th, with the time to be determined. The date was very timely because my ex-husband, Elvin (the Puerto Rican), was coming to visit me on December 15th for five days, and I thought that having a drop-top (that actually dropped) would be a fun touch for showing him around Florida.

ELVIN (The Puerto Rican)

After I moved to Tampa in February 2012, Elvin began calling me periodically. But truthfully, our communications were mainly via text, because once he dipped his toe into the cell phone world (it took him some time to get one), he jumped right in with both thumbs and became a texting expert. It’s mind-boggling to me how easily he took to this new way of communicating, but what really stood out was how diminished his communication became. At 48 years old (he’s now 50), his texts came across like he was a teenager – the abbreviations like ur for your, da for the, and the lack of punctuation, spacing, and grammar surprised me because one of the things that I always liked about him when we were married was his command of the English language, and how well he communicated in both English and Spanish. But, now he was communicating in the way that most of the world did, and since I’m a lover of the written word, reading his texts always made me cringe. He said to me recently that you’re the only Black person that I know that speaks proper English! Proper English?! What’s that? It’s like when I was a kid, and was accused (and, it was an accusation) by kids and Aunt A of trying to talk good English or trying to be White. Shouldn’t they have accused me of trying to speak good English? Anyway, I thanked him, because I’m no longer insulted by comments like that (like I used to be), even if I feel that the statement is/was meant to be an insult (which I didn’t think that it was from him). I know