I love all things “new.” New day, new week, new month, new season, new year. For me, its a time to reset, renew, restart, repent, redo. The Word of God says, his mercies are NEW each morning. How comforting is it for those who believe, to know that God’s mercy is new each morning, and that his love endures forever. Perhaps, its why I love beginnings.

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (Lamentations 3:22-23). 

Last night, I could not sleep– tossed and turned all night. Again, my heart was heavy.

Perhaps, its because I could not get my mind off of Dalonnie, his mother, Joi, and his children. The devil robbed my grand-daughter of knowing her father.

Perhaps, ringing in the New Year once again by myself was a reminder, that I am by myself again.

Perhaps, its the hurt I feel about my the Christmas Eve text a loved one sent that hurt to the core.

Perhaps, I’m still unpacking the pain that I held on to for over 30 years.

Perhaps, its the worry I carry for my youngest son.

Perhaps, its perhaps.

In December 2019, I sold my beautiful house that was built from the ground up and moved to a similar house right around the corner. It may sound foolish to get attached to materialistic items in the grand scheme of life, but it resembled a lot for me. There was a time in my life when I didn’t even think I would become a home owner. God, has brought me so far along. I remember staying in a DV shelter, sleeping on the couches of my friend’s house when I was a teenager– folks rolling over on me– that part. (It appears to be a pattern. Another story, another time.) I did do some things right. I was receiving counseling throughout.

In 2020. I was immersed into COVID work and did not have time to grieve my marriage ending. I was too busy with working endlessly during the pandemic, and trying not to disturb my son’s environment more than I already did. He’s always had behavior issues since he was a preschooler. (That’s another story). My genius was not thriving in a typical school environment. I was also parenting from a place of trauma with a lot of fear I carried from an earlier experience with one of my other son’s. I’ve come so far! I recall listening to Christian music/Gospel was too painful for me. That’s how far I’ve come. Those who know me, know I love my Gospel. In the summer of 2020, I struggled with suicidal idealization thoughts and was overwhelmed with feelings. I did not want to be here anymore. The anguish was indescribable, so much so that I yearned for my mother. All those years, I disassociated myself and my anger was suppressed.

In 2021. I moved again. I also traveled back and forth from California to Florida. When I moved, I felt like my outlook was changing for the better. During this time, I had to get rid of even more stuff that I collected over the years.

In 2022, I became more intentional about pursuing my healing. This was in effort to not let the pain consume me.

In 2023, I am struggling with a personal physical disability that causes chronic intense pain.

I do not understand death. it’s so excruciatingly painful. The grief comes in unexpected waves by surprise. It rocks me and is indescribable. My heart aches, and can’t even grapple with the depths of it. I hate gun violence— violence of any sort! I hate murder. I can make sense of natural illness, body deterioration, natural causes— but never senseless violence.

I can never be okay with the violence of black on black crime. Generations of stolen fathers. Generations of fatherless children. Generations of widows.

Although, my grand daughter has her Papa, he will never replace her father. Her uncles will never replace her father. My daughter will forever not have the support of Joi’s father. I can never be ok with this. I feel like my family was robbed of something invaluable and irreplaceable. I’m angry. I’m so saddened. It’s so heart breaking. I grieve for my granddaughter, and his family.

God is righteous, just and faithful. He hates violence. Sons, please be careful about the women you let in your life. Seek God’s wisdom! Hearken to your mother’s voice.

Dalonnie loved his children. He came to our house for refuge. We took him in. I seen him as a son. He needed guidance and direction. He was not violent. He was caring. He was humble. He acknowledged Charity’s efforts and her parenting. He loved Joi. Unfortunately, he was a victim of his environment. He trusted the wrong person.

Sons, be careful! Hearken to wisdom. Trust your instinct.

bible.com/bible/1/gen.50.20.KJV

bible.com/bible/1/2co.5.17.KJV

I visited Kaiser Permanente hospital on Morse Avenue in Sacramento, California on Thursday, January 27, 2022. I was experiencing chest pains, shortness of breath, light headed, high pulse rate, fatigue, and radiating pain from upper back around to my right arm. My son drove me to the hospital and rolled me into the emergency room and pushed me to the nurse counter. Its where I sat for at least 15 minutes, even though another staff member told the RN I was experiencing chest pain and shortness of breath. As the pain intensified and I realized I was not being evaluated, I tapped on the window next to me, barely able to even speak. I just didn’t feel like I had any strength. I finally got the nurse’s attention.

He proceeded to talk down to me, in a disrespectful and demeaning way, and snapped at me by saying, “I can’t just stop what I’m doing with my other patient to see you.” Other words were said, that made me feel humiliated, but I didn’t have any strength to advocate for myself. My son could not stay because of the COVID policies. At that moment, I felt like a victim. I couldn’t believe I was experiencing such behavior from medical staff in the situation that I was in. I felt my issue was life threatening.

He put me on a pulse reader, and only then did they begin to care for me, and then requested an EKG. His tone only changed then, but it was all too late. I immediately felt my blood pressure and pulse rising even higher at the type of treatment I received.

Several minutes later they took me back to get an EKG. I was lying there for another 15 minutes, before someone hooked up an EKG. Again, I didn’t have the strength to request help or find out the status. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and needed a pillow to elevate my head. The nursing staff were chatting up, talking about dates, life, etc all while I thought I was dying. It definitely was not a place for healing to occur. I thought, if I could say something, I would say I am not interested in hearing about your dating life. I am dying here..people. I mention this because it was a distraction to timely care. The nurse who was putting the sticky tabs and preparing for my EKG, was talking and distracted. Let’s just say, she could certainly improve on her multi-tasking skills.

After my EKG was finally done, they took me around to a chair to sit in and wait for care. I overheard they were supposed to put me in a room. I told them I didn’t feel comfortable walking because I thought I was going to lose consciousness and felt dizzy. They made me feel as if I didn’t deserve a wheelchair. Someone asked me, “can’t you walk?” I said, “I don’t feel comfortable walking because I feel unsteady.” So, only then did they get me a chair and wheel me to another seat. The nurses drew blood to test and see if I was having an actual heart attack. The nurse drawing my labs also had a nasty attitude. It was obvious by her eye roll when I asked for a blanket because I was freezing. She looked at me as if, I had the audacity to ask for a blanket.

Next, I got a chest x-ray. And that was another degrading experience. The way the RN placed the IV in my arm, was uncomfortable, but also to the point that I could not bend my arm. The x-ray tech is telling me to take my shirt and bra off. I asked for help, and she said, “you can’t do it yourself?” I said, I wouldn’t have to ask if you allowed at least one family member to be in, and proceeded to explain the way the IV was placed, it was painful if I attempted to bend my arm. I needed to be able to bend my arm to wrap around to undo my bra and pull my shirt off. Mind you, I was not steady and felt my balance off. She reluctantly helped me.

I writing this post to shed light on the way I and another man were treated on this day at the Kaiser on Morse hospital. My treatment was nothing compared to what I will share next. Every time I share or think about this event, it literally makes me sick.

There was this older man, whose home language is Punjabi. There was a language barrier; but you don’t need to be interpreter to know he was in dire emergency need. This man was gasping for air and vomiting blood. The care he received was something I would expect to see in a movie, not in United States, nor a prison health care system, or a communist country. For at a minimum, this man was seeking help, crying, “doctor, doctor, can’t breathe, doctor!” He was begging to be helped and not one person came to his aid. They gave him a vomit bag and was mad because he dropped the bag a couple of times. He was literally grunting, wrenching, and dropped his bag all while holding his stomach. The grimace on his face, the sounds he made made me think, I was going to witness him die in front of me. I immediately began to pray for him, asking God to breathe air into his lungs, and to spare him.

He dropped his bag a couple of times, and there were two nurses standing near him, but not helping him. One did hand him a bag and started cleaning up the vomit, but the other nurse was vicious. She started scolding him- several times over the course of 30 minutes. She yelled at him, “stop dropping your bag. You’re making a mess. Hold your bag!” He would cry out, “doctor..doctor…” And she would again, scold him and say, “we hear you already. Stop asking for the doctor.”

Eventually, at some point they moved him to the bed. He laid there continuing to grunt. No oxygen was given- nothing. They then start to ask him what happened. Apparently, he was hit in a vehicle accident. The doctor says, let’s get a translator. After, all this time they decided to call for an interpreter. Meanwhile this man, someones father, grandparent, sibling is struggling to breathe.

I am calling for the personnel who did not assist him to be terminated. No human being should be disregarded, ignored, humiliated, and left to suffer without timely medical intervention. I seen the doctor before him, and he was gasping and vomiting blood. It was obvious he was in excruciating pain.

She should be terminated from employment immediately. I don’t know what pledge she recited during her pinning ceremony, but she should revisit that and offer amends for all the people she has harmed by creating mistrust for the health care field. Her behavior/actions should be immediately investigated.

As I blog about this, I am reliving that traumatic night. I felt helpless for this poor man. I was afraid to speak up for him. I barely had the strength to even speak up for myself. I know my God is a God that heals and hears prayers. I can only hope that he survived. I can also only hope the day my brother was brought in from the ambulance on June 17, 2021, to Kaiser (the same hospital), that they did not ignore his dire need for medical intervention. He died in the Kaiser hospital emergency room.

On a side note, I recognize not all humans behave like she did or the nurse that checked me in, and that most first responders don’t have the same character. However, these type of behaviors must be addressed and stopped immediately. It is one of the reasons why people do not trust the health care system. Please change COVID policies so that families can advocate for their loved ones.

In honor of American Heart Health Month and Black History Month as we still fight to pursue heath justice and equity for all!