Pick your Poison

I have a friend who has a friend, just like you know a guy who knows a guy J, who has a story with too many similarities to mine to be anything but.

It’s a story of struggle and perserverance. A story that love concurs all. I will not elaborate.

About a year ago, I took my mother to visit a friend in hospital. Now my mother and I have always been very close. She’s actually the reason this girl is in law school today. Not because she said so, or she pays the fees! But because of who she is, and how she handles the struggle with grace. I got into into law school to make sure I made it easier for women like her, who struggle but aren’t quite so fortunate.

That is a story for another day.

Anyhow, so we checked into the hospital, visiting hours had just begun about five minutes before and when we got to her bed, she already had about three guests with her!

Anyhow, this pale woman lay on the bed against a backdrop of white sheets with a smile that radiated such warmth!

She was visibly weak but got up to give me a hug once mum introduced me as her little stick of cinnamon. Needless to say I was so impressed by the tightness of that hug that putting it to words would diminish its true value. She hugged me so tightly that I began to cry because she released all the tension in my spirit when it was I who was supposed to be releasing her tension!

The women chatted. Others came. We prayed. They left and others came in. Someone suggested that I could easily pass for her daughter. We laughed. When time came to leave I hugged my new mother and left with my other mother J

I made a visit to her house one random weekend and I called her on mother’s day. She is after all my mother! J I pray for her everyday and somehow I feel close to her because of what she’s been through.

Let’s call her Aunty G.

Aunty G is battling as we speak breast cancer. I speak to her as often as I can, but I do more praying than talking. A while back Uncle G left Aunty G.

She’s deep in the throngs of her battle, one that many lost on the way to remission and even though some days are tough, God’s tougher.

I remember how you reacted to Uncle G leaving. You had quite a few words for him. Ha! Kind of seems like the pot calling the kettle black now doesn’t it?

A long time ago, or rather what seems to be a long time ago, I wanted to end stigma for families dealing with some seriously big medical conditions in their families. They say a problem shared, is a problem half solved.

Medical conditions such as sickle-cell have no real support groups in place. Acting like it doesn’t exist  doesn’t solve anything. But it’s no one’s story to tell but those whose lives are directly affected by it.

A lot of people dealing with complicated medical conditions in their families don’t talk about them, and any information you’re likely to get is by virtue of your relationship with them. When they share their inner most fears and worries with you it’s not because they need you to solve it or broadcast it to the world. It’s simply because they need to sort out their thoughts and they’re using you as a sounding board, sharing their thoughts and feelings with you. In law we call it a priviledged occasion, and it is fiercely protected by law.

It’s a PRIVILEDGE. Do not abuse it.

Granted, it’s a fact that some of us deal with some pretty messed up stuff daily, but never abuse the trust that someone places in you. Trust is not given it’s earned and a lot of the times, when it’s gone. It’s gone.

If it’s not your story to tell, don’t tell it.

Telling it doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you a coward who cannot stand by anyone when they need you.

And as the Swahili say, malipo ni hapa, hapa duniani.

Kindest regards,

Cinnamon.

Xoxo