In July, 2008, I, Princess Rachella, Intrepid African American Girl International Journalism Consultant, pulled up stakes once again and headed to Nairobi, Kenya. Through my various adventures, I've concluded that if I get any MORE explosively fabulous in these prequel years to "THE BIG 5-0," I will have to register myself with the Pentagon as a thermonuclear incendiary device.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The Heart DOES Go On...........

So I’m winding down the homestretch of a 14 hour layover in London's Heathrow Airport, and I’ve just heard the most craptastic Muzak version of Celine Dion’s “The Heart Does Go On” ever committed to public airwaves. After that abomination, my teeth ache, and my ears are almost bleeding.

On the other hand, hearing that song reminded me that two years ago today, my sister Julie learned she had colon cancer. I’ll always remember the grim face of the young doctor who broke the news. He was slightly built with reddish blonde hair, and when he first came into Julie’s room at Hahnemann Hospital in Philadelphia, all he said was, “Mrs. Newell, where is your husband? I think he needs to be here.” Ron had stepped down the hall, probably for one of his life-sustaining Pepsis and a bag of Fritos, which is all he ever ate during Julie’s hospital stays. My gut lurched, and I wondered why my friendly banter wasn’t eliciting a smile, chuckle, or at least some slight cordial acknowledgement from the young whippersnapper doctor.

I’ve used this blog to chart several significant sea changes in my life, and I know I’ve proclaimed each one more profound than the last. But this time, I can truly say that the moment the words “Stage 3 colon cancer” left that doctor’s mouth, I experienced what was nothing less than an out-of-body experience. I vividly remember the puzzled disbelief on Julie’s face, and Ron’s stunned shock. I was sitting on the edge of the bed holding Julie’s hand, but somehow, I was also looking down on the entire scene. I remember having about a millisecond to stifle the wailing moan rumbling up my throat, and feeling more freezing cold to the bone than ever before in my life.

But at that same instant, some psychic tectonic plate shifted, and I also remember thinking, “I will not fall apart. I cannot fall apart. I have to be strong, for Julie.”

So I just crawled into bed beside her and held her while she cried. And I also told her that I’d be there for her, no matter what.

I’ve done a lot of gallivanting since March 12th, 2006. Been to Ethiopia and Nigeria and Uganda and Kenya and Brazil. God willing, I’ll continue to travel, see new places, meet new people, try to make a difference in the world. I’ll be in Abuja, Nigeria for 2 weeks starting tomorrow morning, and then on April 11th, I’ll spend 2 weeks in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Who knows what May will bring….maybe a return trip to Uganda….or a job working the drive thru at Chick-Fil-A. I mean, I don’t want to be presumptuous or anything.

Life is so unpredictable.

Still, no journey I’ll ever take for the rest of my life will compare with the path I walk
each day, trying to make a life for myself in a world without Julie. At some point daily, I find myself amazed that I’m still sane. I never thought I’d get to this place, emotionally.

So, even though some crappy elevator music has me about ready to blubber into my plate of already watery spaghetti carbonara, I’m grateful for the poignant reminder that the heart DOES go on.

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