December 2011 will be a month that will live on, in the historical archives of the former Ms. Independence. In Part I of The Quality of Compassion, she/I came clean about her/my former intractability in learning to accept help in a time of need. What is that saying about “teaching an old dog new tricks”? It is possible. This wannabe pup had another “trick” (teachable moment), thrust upon her.

In early December 2011, when stores were gearing up for big time sales, kids were writing to Santa, and parents were calculating the budget, I was fighting almost intractable pain. I had no health insurance, so I did what any uninsured person would do – I tried to ignore the pain, hoping it would go away. It did not. I had looked into purchasing individual health insurance and was confronted by the reality that paying for such insurance meant paying at least half of my rent in premiums, and living in my car, or continuing to pay the rent. I have to say that by Divine providence, I confided in a friend at church, and she told me about a county hospital that takes folks in my condition. Thank you, Manijeh. Donna, another friend from church, promptly drove me to that hospital on the following day.

I entered the facility with some trepidation. The former Ms. Independence had always had the necessary insurance and had never been treated in a county facility. My preconceived notion of care at such a facility, was that I would take a number and told to “move it along.” I was wrong. The professionalism, courtesy, caring and compassion at Olive View-UCLA Medical Center, began with the admissions person, who checked me in. It continued with the doctors, technicians, nurses and nursing assistants who tested me for most of that day. One type of exam was so painful, that when the doctor returned to do a third test, I gave her my deal: kill me first, then do the test. She promised me to try her best not to hurt me too much. For the most part she kept her word.

It also helped that there was an intern with very aesthetically pleasing facial features, who held my hand and tried to comfort me. I told him: “Don’t take this the wrong, way, but you are one good-looking dude!” I was on a roll. I asked him if he knew that he could make a lot more money playing a doctor on television. To his credit, he did not call security, but had a good laugh. No, I was not trying to pick him up. I could have been at least his older sister (in my imagination). My God-given sense of humor was kicking in, even in that type of circumstance.

The serious business continued. The doctors met in conference, while I waited in the assigned hospital room, for them to arrive at their findings. The doctor returned and I found out that my test results were to be analyzed for a very serious disease. I was not surprised. I was already beginning to suspect. After she left the room, I said a prayer to God and promised Him that I was not going to fret, but leave everything in His hands. The former Ms. Independence was continuing to learn upon Whom she should rely. I was to return to the hospital the following week, to learn my fate.

Twice during that week, I cheated – I fretted. I apologized to God. I returned to the hospital to find out the verdict. It was as I suspected. I now had something in common with John Wayne, my mother and countless others. I was not even fazed when the doctor delivered the news. I listened to the plan of action. Surgery was first up. My only wish was that I would not have to spend Christmas Day in the hospital. I did not want “Jingle Bells,” replaced by hospital bells. Days later, I received my wish. I was to report to the hospital on December 26, 2011 to receive blood transfusions before surgery the following day. Whew! I would get to go to church on Christmas Day, December 25, bedecked in my red outfit, feeling ill or not! I should not have forgotten to place Kleenex in my purse. I needed it, after all the prayers that were sent up for me, especially by Toyin. I felt enveloped in love and ready to face the knife.

Am I the first person in history who went into the hospital for surgery, and could not give an account of what happened? I had envisioned being in the surgical unit, waiting and experiencing the anesthesia being applied, dreaming dreams of floating in air, and subconsciously being able to witness at least part of the proceedings. None of that happened. One minute I was in the pre-op room being given instructions, and something to ingest. The next, I was in the hospital room, wide awake and wondering if anything had happened. I like that type of surgery! I was so alert, I called Donna to report that I was out of surgery – I think. She expected me to sound groggy and out of it.

So I was now out of surgery. Surely, I would be allowed to rest and recuperate, maybe not move from the hospital bed for another week, having staff at my beck and call. No. The very next morning, I was instructed to begin walking. To my surprise, I could. In the next few days, I learned that maybe the brain is not the most important organ in the body. I began to learn why the abdomen is considered the “core” of the body and the bowels have a mind of their own! Similar to a baby learning to walk, I went through a process where certain organs in the abdomen had to learn to “walk” again, and were determined to show me who is boss! While sitting on an earthly “throne,” I said many a prayer to God on His Heavenly Throne. He answered.  I was released to a skilled nursing facility, Verdugo Vista Healthcare Center, where I continued to make progress, and was discharged from there after three weeks. Approximately one month after this major surgery, I was out in the land of the well, although still recuperating, because I was making such good progress. Pain, although reducing, is still a too present companion

My December holiday season may have been interrupted, but while everyone else had to wait until today for Valentine’s Day, mine came extremely early, in January. Family, friends and medical staff members showed me enough love and caring to fill a hot air balloon! The staff members, at the skilled nursing facility, as did the staff at the hospital, were determined that I would recover my health, and gave me round the clock care. I probably would need to devote another article to those folks who really earn their pay, and who are often under and unappreciated. Family and friends, including those of my church family, showed me philia (brotherly love), that left me overwhelmed and speechless. I am grateful. I know that I will probably forever struggle with that fiercely independent streak, but I have come a long way.

One recent tangible sign that the walls, of Jericho, dangerous independence, are crumbling, is when my friend Carolyn H. persuaded me to hop, actually crawl into a SmartKart in a Target store. What? Yours truly riding around in a cart for the “disabled”? Yes. Reality kicked in. I got in that cart and proceeded to try not to run over other shoppers. I think that those carts are a scaled down version of an Indy 500 racing car!

This former Ms. Independence has had a hard life, from birth to now, with interludes of peace, love, no want, and no pain. But, pain and separation have been a part of her life, sometimes too much, in her estimation. However, don’t cry for me. In looking back, I realize that God, of course, knew the travails to come, and He assembled a “team” of angels who have made it their duty to care for me. I now realize that the one constant in my life, has been love, familial and philia on earth, and God’s love from above. God is in charge of my life, but I do believe that I owe a great debt to Olive View, Verdugo Vista, my family, my church family and my friends. Thank you all.

Happy Valentine’s Day from Ms. Christmas!