Paris in the Fall

It’s a funny thing living with a chronic illness. Curious folks want to know more about your disease but don’t know how to ask. Then when they do ask, it is prefaced with “but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” The person living with the illness isn’t sure how much to tell and rethinks if they should even tell because they don’t want people to feel badly for them. Sometimes, it’s a difficult scenario to navigate.

I'm an open book and I'll tell everything that you want to know. From my experience, lupus feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders and your head is light like a balloon. It feels as though any moment the balloon t is about to fly with a string attached. Just the thought of standing upright makes you exhausted and just to lift your hand to wipe your brow seems like the distance is a mile. Then twenty minutes later, a totally different feeling comes over you.

I don’t really talk about my lupus ordeal except to say “I have lupus.” The Social Worker at the Lupus Alliance, which is also where I work, came into my office one day and gave me some real things to think about. Mama D, as I call her, was concerned because she has never seen me sad, upset or angry. Her concern was very valid and she went on to and added that she was hoping that I wasn’t covering up what I went through or perhaps, not dealing with it all. That day, I totally appreciated her intervention because I’ve been struggling with those same feelings since I’ve returned to my right mind. She asked me the same questions that I had been asking myself. “Have you given yourself time to grieve?” “Have you owned your feelings?” The only thing that I could do was offer her the same answers that I had given myself. “Yes” and “yes”.

I’ve never shared this with anyone except my journal, Mama Jones and Brynna. On February 4, 2002, the day Dr. Mates called and said that I had discoid and systemic lupus, I was ecstatic about the challenge. I’ve always known that wasn’t wired correctly in my head but I am wired correctly enough to know that God’s grace won’t carry me anywhere where His grace won’t cover me. When I left my dermatologist that day in January of 2002, I walked through Henry Ford Hospital with a grin on my face and my fists balled up. I was ready for a fight in the supernatural. I wanted to see for myself if this God thang was real. The dermatologist had done a biopsy which means she took a skin sample from my face and placed it into a tube to be tested for lupus. She also had me do bloodwork to test for lupus. As she was slicing skin from my face, a single tear fell from my face. She asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. That’s when the Holy Spirit stepped in. “It’s a lot isn’t it?” she asked as she sewed up the spot over my eyebrow where she removed the sample. I just nodded slightly. Yes, it was a lot. I was a month removed from college graduation and had encouragement and the promises of all of the great things that were to come. But now I am laying on an exam table and a doctor is literally cutting flesh from my face. You can talk to me about life being fair a little bit later.

As I grew up my mom, aunts and uncles told me to mind my manners, treat people right and go to college. They don’t tell me about Equifax, TransUnion or incurable diseases. Damn them. That’s okay. They can’t protect me from everything. Some things I just have to find out on my own.

So picture me almost eight years ago, walking through the parking garage to my Cavalier knowing that God was going to do some things, was going to make some miracles using little old me. Oh honey, I talked real tough until those pains started setting in. Haha. Some days, I replay that scene in my head and chuckle to myself. God wants you to be hung-ho for Him but don’t get crazy. Don’t encourage devastating things to happen. As sure as you live and breathe, trouble will find you. As my mama (or maybe it was Marvin Gaye) has said you won’t get anywhere without any trouble.

Lupus ravaged my body soon after the diagnosis. I lost 30 pounds in the 28 days in February. My hair fell out on my pillow. My hands hurt so bad that I couldn’t turn the little thingy on the can opener to open a can of soup. Every joint in my body hurt from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. I went through it. All I had was my faith and your prayers.

I went to bible study one day and the pastor asked the congregation, “what is it that you would do if you were told you would die tomorrow?” I went home searched the Internet for flight attendant jobs. I had an interview and was offered a job all within one week of that church service. Due to my ignorance, I was told that it took folks years to become flight attendants. I mean, they literally interview for months to become flight attendants. Of course, that was the topic of many folks conversations. I forgot to tell folks that when they meet me, they meet the favor that is covering me. I packed up three large suitcases and went to Eagan, Minnesota for six weeks of training. Lupus had wrecked my hair so badly that I had invested in a wig that I wore to Eagan. I remember one day in training we had to slide down the emergency slide of the aircraft. I swear I saw groups of my fellow trainees taking bets on whether or not my wig was going to fly off. It didn’t. Thank goodness that stocking cap hugged my brain so tight.

So after the tight wigs, observation flights, friendships formed that I am proud to say that I still have, study groups, exams and lots of laughter, I was now a bona fide flight attendant. On my off days, I pimped the aviation system and travelled to all of the places that I read about. My non-swimming self jet skied in Nassau, saw the joy in my God-Mother’s eyes when I spat out ‘Madame, it’s the Eiffel Tower’ as we walked up the steps from the subway in Paris, was met by protestors at the hotel in Honolulu as I celebrated my 25th birthday and was driven around by the same guy that was initially arrested for kidnapping Natalie Holloway in Aruba. I wasn’t even 30 years old yet and had stories for days.

Even though being a flight attendant allowed me to the opportunity to poke around in the world, I was lacking something. Flying around wasn’t fun anymore and besides I had been everywhere that I wanted to go. I wanted something that was mine, mine, mine and decided to go back to Tallahassee and start an eyelash business. My mother looked at me sideways (as I am sure dozens of people did) and said, “Eyelashes? How are you going to support yourself doing eyelashes?” My answer didn’t go over well with her because she then said, “you are going to come back home disappointed and embarrassed.” Ouch ma, now that’s kinda rough. My reply? “Mom, grab that box for me and take it to the car.” For the record, that was the only time in my life that my mother has ever said anything against a dream that I had concocted. I have a wonderfully supportive mother and at that time she was just speaking out of fear. I didn’t take it personal at the time nor do I take it personal now. I was never a bad child but I am definitely a live-on-the-edge, pretty fearless adult. I’m surprised my mother’s health isn’t bad. I remember calling her at 2 a.m. one morning and telling her that I was going to get on a plane on the morning to run with the bulls. Her reply? “$@#%#$@%#$@T^$^@.! and don’t call me no more.” I mean, that could’ve easily been heart attack number 1. Then, a while later I told her that I was going to go sky diving. Her reply? “Well, you know what fool? Hell ain’t crowded yet.” That was her way of saying that she loved me. I just know it. But I put the sky diving on the back burner—for now.

Subconsciously, I think that’s why I don’t want to have any children. They say that your children give you double what you gave your own parents and I don’t want any part of that. I’ll be damn if my kid calls me and tells me that he is going to walk on glass or if I get a call from my daughter saying she a storm chaser. No ma’am. I can feel the unsupportive words forming on my tongue now and I haven’t even birthed a child into the world. It’s just a parent’s nature to want to protect their child. I understand that. With all that said, I come along. Good thing the stork dropped me off at a praying woman’s home. Any other woman wouldn’t have made it this far parenting me. Sometimes, I tease my mother that I’m the reason she trusts in God so much. “Lord, please don’t let that child ‘o mine bungee jump. I’m trusting in you God. Amen.” “Lord, please don’t let this child of mine decide to take piloting lessons. She don’t need to be driving no planes. I’m trusting you, Lord. Amen.” “Lord, it’s me, again. I’m trusting you not to let this crazy child of mine buy a motorcycle. What’s wrong with her Lord? Amen.”

Well, her prayer for my return from Tallahassee was answered...but not without any trouble. *Come back next week for the continuation. I need a snack now.*

Me in the P (Paris) representing the D (Detroit) in October 2006.