I was diagnosed with terminal cancer in November, but didn't realize that it was a terminal diagnosis
until February when I started thinking that the information being fed to me wasn't making sense
when I noticed multiple doctors contradicting themselves, stumbling over words, and ultimately, I
found documentation that extremely significant information about my health status was being
deliberately withheld from me. These past 8 months have nearly destroyed me psychologically. I'm
having an extremely difficult time finding any sense of inner peace. I'm feel tormented nearly
every moment of everyday. I'm unable to find peace even when I'm asleep. I've never experienced
nightmares like these of late ever in my life. The only common theme that the nightmare seem to
have is that I feel frightened or in danger from start to finish, but there doesn't seem to be any
clear, identifiable source of the danger.
I think that my experience with those corrupt and unethical doctors and hospital administrators
has left me a woman who is suddenly terrified of the entire world, of humanity itself. I sometimes
even feel out of touch with my own humanity. This cancer experience was absolutely the MOST
dehumanized I have ever been made to feel. And I grew up as one of the very few black families in
a very aggressively racist predominantly white town in the mountains of Western Pennsylvania. So
people have tried my entire life to make me question my worth. I used to feel that I came out of that
town stronger because of it. As hard as they tried to make me feel worthless or less-than, I was still
able to hold onto my joy. I was always able to like myself and enjoy my own company by reminding
myself that their opinion of me was not my concern because they had no real power over me unless
I gave power to their hate by allowing it to damage me. It was just words, mean looks, bullying. And
at the end of the day, the only power they had would be what I gave them were I to allow myself be
diminished by the words and disdain of people who (I'd often remind myself, like a mantra almost)
were insignificant and irrelevant to my life story. MY life story. I wouldn't let them turn my story into
something dark. I wanted my story to be full of adventure and unique experiences with lots and lots
of interesting and unique characters. Very few Indiana Townies are interesting, nor unique. I would
just leave there chapter out, I told myself. I refuse to believe that this town is a true representation
of the world, or even the state for that matter! So I stayed strong until I thought I'd bust. Well, in
a way I did "bust", I guess lol. I ran away to New Orleans when I was 16, made up a fake name and
identity, and lived in the Covenant House (a homeless shelter for kids under 21) for three months.
Honestly, my only motivation for doing something so outrageous was a genuine desire to 'test my
survival skills'. And, I know that people still think that I had simply lost my mind, or got in a fight
with my parents. But nope. I wanted to jump start the opening chapter of my life story. I craved new
experiences, craved conversations with unique people of different cultures and lifestyles, craved
a life worth living! A life truly LIVED and savored. I managed to live at least a small portion of
that grand dream, thankfully. I've lived in New Orleans, Pittsburgh, Brooklyn (ahh.. the beautiful
nostalgia of those Brooklyn years. They're definitely a contender for favorite experience. They
were early on though, chapters 3 and 4, I'd say :), briefly in the Bronx (definitely not my favorite
background scenery. And definitely not exactly a gold mine of intriguing characters either, in my
opinion. Although, I only lived there for three months, so I didn't really give it a chance I guess), then
I moved back to where my Mother had moved to when I was 15, Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I moved
back there with the intention of finishing my college degree and then picking a new city the moment
I graduated. I ended up getting restless sooner than expected and applied my credits towards an
Associate's Degree in December of 2002. My degree was in Paralegal Studies so I decided to get my
feet wet by signing up with a couple Legal-Temp agencies in Philly. I had already submitted several
resumes and had interviewed with an agency about a week prior to my graduation date. Then... came...
destiny. Lol In the form of the handsome shy-guy that sat in front of me in Bio 2 in High School. My
sister had taken me to a dance club (I've NEVER been a partier, but she told me it made her sad that
my idea of celebrating my graduation was to sleep until noon for a week straight lol. It was heavenly
though...) to 'celebrate' my graduation. Her insistence on 'celebrating' my degree that night was
driven by my little sister's beautiful, loving, loyal, and protective spirit. She was genuinely more
excited and happy for me than I was lol. I mean, I WAS definitely excited about the freedom that degree finally granted me, but Nessa has rooted for me my whole life, my biggest cheerleader and
closest confidant. I'd definitely be a much shittier person without her as a little sister. My parents
tried for over two years to get pregnant after I was born because my father was an orphan and only
ever had his big sister. My Aunt Mary was his world, his anchor, his mother, his savior. He insisted
that I have a sibling. My mother wasn't one to get pregnant easily, so when she finally did, man were
we ever a sickeningly happy little family lol. (It helped that we still hadn't left San Francisco at that
point. Back then, NOBODY was saying hip-hip-hooray for the arrival of a black child born to a pretty
little white woman, as I quickly learned again and again once we moved to my Dad's hometown of
Indiana.) But for her first year on earth, she was MY beautiful baby sister. The best gift my parents
ever gave me! (Years down the road, I would remind her of her being my present from Mom and Dad
lol. You know, when she'd start acting too big for her britches... )
Anyway, sorry, I have a tendency to be overly wordy. I should have written a warning statement in
the header : *Warning: proceed with caution. You are about experience a writing style that may cause
dizziness and/or disorientation*
I'll sum it up as quickly as possible from here on. My sister played match maker that night for me and
the guy from Bio 2. We went on our first date on Christmas Eve 2002, just 9 days after that degree
had finally granted me freedom. But somehow, even as unromantic as I've always been, I already
knew that he was the man I would eventually marry. So I continued working as a Dispatcher (the
degree at least helped me get a raise), accepted his adorable marriage proposal in September of 2003,
and basically just did the whole 'young love' thing. In Lancaster....eh... You can't have everything I
guess lol. But when we married in June 2005, it was in the aftermath of a betrayal. He used to work
2nd shift with a bunch of other 20-somethings and they took their drinking seriously! Albeit, they
did have stressful jobs at the juvenile detention center. Essentially they were 'CO's' responsible for
controlling violent offenders who weren't much younger than themselves. Jabreel came home injured
more than once after having to "restraint hold" a kid who was the size of a grown man. So he drank
to much, told himself he'd earned the right I guess, slowly stopped realizing how special I was, and
ended up in a messy affair with his ex-girlfriend who also worked at the detention center. She was
definitely not content being his mistress though. Far from it. She became obsessed with me. I'm
assuming that she pressed for a relationship, and he wanted to try and save our marriage because he
didn't love her. In my observation, she was just a human incarnation of those stiff drinks he'd slam
with his buddies after a hard day. She tricked him into thinking it was just casual for her too. But the
true feelings of both of them would be exposed in an emotional explosion that was first sparked by
his guilty conscience leading him to tearfully confess his philandering. Being the overly dramatic and
emotional 20-something that I was, I insisted her call her in front of me and tell her it's over and to
stay away from our relationship. "Amber's the one I love, Christina. I'm sorry if I made you feel used.
It was a mistake and now I need to work on my relationship with Amber."...
Well... let me tell you, I was completely unprepared for that level of crazy! Wow. I used to consider
myself crazy, but this girl must have taken meticulous notes while watching Fatal Attraction for the
89th time... She called my house constantly, during hours that she knew Jabreel'd be at work because
she knew his work schedule being that she worked in the same building. When I'd pick up she'd say the
filthiest things, going into great detail describing the sex acts she and my husband had supposedly
engaged in. When I didn't react with the shock and weeping she had been aiming for, she'd attack
me personally, even though she didn't even know me. She'd tell me that "Jabreel told me I'm so much
sexier than you and that you don't know what your doing in bed. You're boring. And those "crusty-ass
moles on your face are gross". Damn, you're ugly!" I'd like to mention that the "crusty-ass moles" she
was referring to, I prefer to call 'beauty marks' and they were the first thing Jabreel complimented
me on that night at the dance club. But in High School it was pretty much common knowledge that
I was a virgin. I always thought that giving your body to a man puts you at risk of falling in love
as a result of some false sense of emotional attachment, and the only thing I cared about in high
school was freedom. So many of my classmates were planning their LIVES around the KID they
called their "man" and seemed in a constant state of anguish, self-doubt and jealousy that they had
essentially been dissolved into that boy. They'd allow, even WANT, themselves to be devoured by him. HIS priorities, HIS interests, even his...his... spawn!! (Sometimes crass language is the best way to
paint the portrait lol sorry) Anyway, point is, staying a virgin was something I was proud of because I
knew that it was the safest way to ensure I would get to have adventures away from this boring town
one day and maybe have interesting conversations with women who hadn't been devoured before
they had even had a chance to know themselves. Girls like Christina, their sense-of-self was only as
strong as their current relationship with a man.
So Christina was quite skilled in her attempt to make me feel ugly and weird. I was proud to be the
high school virgin, but she tried to convince me that her sexual prowess made her superior to me.
And I had always liked my moles, they made my face more unique I thought. Christina must have
instinctively sensed that I wasn't embarrassed by my moles, so they became a favorite target of
hers as well. She was a partier (still is actually) who went out to bars and clubs very regularly. She'd
usually go alone because her only girlfriends were her older cousins, and she tell anyone willing to
listen to stories about drama and sex (which is everyone in a town this boring) all about how stupid I
was and how she can take my man anytime she wants him. She tell people that Jabreel had said the
type of things that in the 20 years I've known him he has never spoken about and especially not in the
language she claimed he had. Jabreel never says a harsh word about ANYONE. Not even assholes who
deserve it. It's just not in his nature. And regardless of his reckless behavior back then, I still never
doubted that Jabreel truly loved me and had always been very protective of me. His penis, on the
other hand? That bastard did not give a shit about protecting my heart...
So, finally, in September of 2006 I moved back to where I was born, San Francisco . That city has
a soul, a heartbeat, a palpable personality! And for me, at that moment in my life, that city saved
my life. My migraines went away. The magical Bay breeze filled my lungs and almost instantly I felt
like Amber again for the first time in years. I thought I had ruined her, that she'd be different from
now on. Damaged, deformed, scarred for life. But day by day, my magical city of birth restored me,
handed me back my spirit, then the moist bay breeze brushed my hair back from my left ear, kissed
my tear-stained cheek, then whispered, "be more careful with your spirit, or it'll fly back to me again.
You have to love it in a way that makes it feel free. That's the spirit of San Francisco inside you, you
know. You have to be true to it, nurture it, and it'll always keep you connected to the magic of San Francisco...
© A.C. Magwood