I've learned that being the center of my care team doesn't mean I have to do it all alone — it means I get to lead the conversation about my body and my healing.
Help and healing are possible. It starts with one act of surrender and one conversation with someone you trust.
On the inside, my spirit was broken into pieces | On the outside, I masked it, very well | With a hyper cheerful personality | Faked my way through | But, I saw the light one day
I wrote a poem for my mother's service, which I called "A Mother's Love." On the tenth anniversary of her death, I wrote a Eulogy for a class project, and I have included both pieces as a tribute to my mother's life.
I felt very bad. I lacked even tears to cry. I only said one thing, "Be strong, Caro." And that was when my journey started...
The day started out like any other day. My daughter, Deondra Mae, was in the hospital again with pneumonia.
When I look back over my life, it has been filled with many roadblocks, bad choices, deaths, and adversities--yet, somehow, someway, I have always found the strength to carry on.
I would go to my clinic hiding my face and the day before visiting the clinic I didn't sleep. I kept on thinking how will I do tomorrow?? Who will I meet there?
This is not just a story about illness— it's about intuition. The terrifying silence of being dismissed. And the sacred roar of deciding to save yourself.
Sharing my stories and giving courage to others like me who can relate to some of my struggles and victories is a way I can give back to a community that has literally saved my life.