Bitter Pill

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I asked my hematologist if there was anything that I could do about me losing my hair. You see, I knew it was a side effect of Coumadin, but at 30, I was not quite prepared to be the spitting image of my father; which is to say, my hair receding further and further back first, covered by the comb over and then, teased just got thinner and thinner; until, it was starting to spin into a salt and pepper speckled horse shoe singular like thread, and my fear was it would continue this way until all of my femininity was wiped away. 

My doctor looked at me, wall eyed, ready for a fight, triggered by my question. He fired back, 
     “It’s a lifesaving drug!”
I nodded timidly and say, 
     “I know. I just want to know if I should just start wearing wigs.” 
I smile a little to ease the tension, and he releases the grip from my metaphorical shoulders, and tells me all my options, but I did my research already. I just needed confirmation. My hair is not growing back. 

Can we just take a minute to recognize the doctors who day in and day out work tirelessly to save lives only for someone to willingly choose to die for their vanity. I could imagine how many conversations he had just like mine being a Hematologist/Oncologist, and how much it would burn the insides of his soul like molten bubbling tar to know a drug could save a patient, and they chose to die for their beauty, for frivolity. I felt incredibly kindred to him in that moment. Trauma recognizes trauma. We forget doctors even though they hold scalpels; they too have scars. 

But in that moment, I could not find the words to explain my hair, that frivolity, while I deemed it not worth dying for, it certainly was worth living for. The moment I came out of the hospital after almost dying from my blood clot, the wind whipped my hair. My baby nephews, when I held them up to my shoulder, they used to pull on my brown chestnut ringlets. I’ve had men nuzzle into my neck and whisper secrets into my ear as they tug on my ponytail. As I aged and my gray hairs were coming in, I actually loved how the sun gleamed over my hair. My grays sparkled like diamonds in the ground! I will never know what it’s like to go full granny haired white.

So yes at 30, the life-saving drug is a hard pill to swallow; I swallow it. I will swallow it every day of my life. Hopefully, it will be a long one. Hopefully, I will learn to love my body in all states of being glorious main, thin tail, horseshoe, shaved head, cue ball, wig, weave, scarf, topper, hat and my personal favorite messy bun it’s a lifestyle don’t you know!

By Hyacinth Hale

Noah

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Noah, the last righteous man on Earth, what must you have seen? How evil the world must have been! 
When God told you the plan to drown the world in pure sorrow, what were your thoughts? We only know your faith and obedience, the animals two by two, those clean seven by seven, all the wood and lumber, the pounding, and gathering of supplies. It must have taken years of labor and community ostracization.

Tell me as you built the ark, did you plead with God not to open the flood gates? Did you plead with the people to change their evil ways, to turn back to God, or did you accept their fate? Did you take pleasure in knowing wicked men would finally receive judgement for their deeds? As you gathered all the animals and your family, and the heavens broke open, and the ark lifted, did you have your doubts? Were you ever scared of what was to come? Of the new world that rested on your shoulders?

Did you ever lose faith in God, even for a moment, in the ark after watching the entire world drown, after the forty days and nights of rain, after the constant sea sickness of you and the animals, the foul stench, the delirium of cabin fever, the constant bickering between you and your family? Did your humanity ever get the best of you? When you kept sending birds out, did you feel defeated? Did you believe your eyes when you saw the dove bring back the olive branch?

When you saw the mountain, did you think it a mirage? A trick of the mind at sea? Was it lonely forging a new world on a tip of a mountain? Everyone in the world, we are your seed, your offspring, that you’ve sewn from Mount Ararat scattered in the wind in all corners and crevices of the Earth, some good, some righteous, some bad, a few downright evil, mostly ruling the rest of us, and yet I cannot imagine how wicked the world must have been for God still to destroy the world in its human infancy. I cannot fathom a more wicked world than the one I live in. ’m not sure if humans got better, or if our hearts are still just as wicked, but I do know God’s heart changed, and showed mercy.

Rainbows bring happiness to me their color spectrum peering through the clouds showing hope, promise, like warm colorful beams of better days, but do rainbows make you feel uneasy? A double-edged sword gleaming of peace and destruction? When a storm came in, did you still pray for God not to destroy the world? A trauma response of what you went through. When do the trauma responses stop? When does peace come in? Is that why the sky is riddled with rainbows? One promise is not enough, one rainbow is not enough, we as humans, need constant reassurance of God’s promise? I know I do.

You saved the world, you preserved humanity, conserved nature, watched the world drown, and dead bodies float, the rain came, the boat rocked, and your body shivered and shook, you didn’t do it alone, you had your family perhaps your saving grace, perhaps your backbone to keep you standing, looking upward at the heavens waiting for the rain to come, waiting for God to fulfill His promises in your life, to use you to do impossible tasks, to use you to save us from our wicked desires, one righteous man stood and obeyed to save humanity from the tip of a mountain.

By Hyacinth Hale

*1 Poem Inspired by Genesis Chapters 6-10 of the NIV Bible


To Be Great

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When I was a little girl, I dreamed of someone seeing how great I was and plucking me out of obscurity. After many heartbreak attention seeking look at what I can do's, I realize it does not matter how much talent you have. In order to be great, you have to work harder than everyone else, be dedicated more than everyone else, and that still may not be enough.