Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [88]
I squeezed my eyes shut and could see the little piles of crap in my own mind. Rhonda’s crap had shown up in my life in a hundred ways. Not asking for what I wanted. Being afraid to tell people what I was really feeling. Not speaking up for myself if I thought it would make someone mad at me. People-pleasing and self-denial. Never feeling like I had done enough, or that I was good enough. Always needing someone else to determine my worth. Each of the little piles had a different shape and form, but at the core they were all the same. I was still looking for love. As far as Karen was concerned, I was afraid of losing what I thought was her love. It was a huge, gaping wound that I still had not healed.
When the telephone rang at seven o’clock in the morning, Rhonda thought it was Eddie. It was Nett. She was not feeling well and wanted Rhonda to go with her to the doctor.
“What’s the matter?” Rhonda asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve been up all night long. I get so cold. I’ve been vomiting, and I have diarrhea. I’m so weak, I can hardly stand up.”
“Let me take the kids to school and I’ll come get you.”
“Thank you, Ronnie,” Nett said. “I appreciate it.”
Nett was one of the few people Rhonda knew who always said thank you. She always said how grateful she was for the little gifts that Rhonda would bring her. It made Rhonda feel good to do things for Nett, like driving over in her beat-up old Chevy and taking Nett to the supermarket. The car was a family joke. It cost Rhonda exactly one hundred dollars. It was painted a color that Nett called “puke green.” And it had one brown door and an AM radio that worked. Rhonda would get dressed in her finest outfit, her ragged old mink coat that Grandma had handed down, and drive away in the worst-looking car on the block. The children thought it was hilarious, but on chilly winter days, the car always started.
Nett looked awful. When Rhonda saw her face, she told her, “You are the same color as the car.” Nett was always fragile, but now she was sweating, stooped, and very pale. Nett was admitted to the hospital that afternoon. Rhonda felt almost as bad as Nett looked. She stayed until Nett was situated in her room and hooked up to an IV. The possibility of losing Nett had not yet hit Rhonda.
The next six weeks were horrific. The doctors tested Nett for everything, but they could not find the cause of her debilitating illness. One week they thought she had a kidney ailment, the next week it was a rare form of anemia. Each week they tried a different medication, and frequently Nett would have a bad reaction. She had become so thin and weak she could barely lift her arms. Every morning, Rhonda would drop the kids off at school, visit Nett in the hospital, and then leave at lunchtime to attend classes. After school, she would go home, feed the children, and head back to the hospital.
She never knew in what condition she’d find Nett. Some days she was bloody from a blood test gone bad. Other days she would be in tears because no one had fed her or put her on the bedpan. Rhonda would bathe her, change the bed, comb her hair, and wait for her to fall asleep. She was spending an average of six to eight hours a day at the hospital.
Nett had been in the hospital four months on the day Rhonda visited and found a large group of nurses and interns standing outside of Nett’s room. She wanted to run down the corridor, but she was too shocked and afraid. The closer she got to the room, the weaker she felt. The crowd at the door parted to let her through. When she saw what was going on in the room, she almost