Death has knocked on my door four times and I’m still here……

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Death has knocked on my door four times and I’m still here. I was working as an executive at one of the largest banks in the country. Myself and many other women who were also executives gathered our teams together to provide a women’s power conference at the Omni Hotel on California Street in San Francisco, California.  Women came from near and far and went from one booth to another exchanging resources and ideas. Our guest list of speakers included Iyanla Vanzant and Dr. Rose. Many beautiful colors flowed through the room. There were sisters covered in hijab conversing with sisters dressed in designs from Tory Burch. Self employed mothers giving advice to those who were looking to begin a business of there own. It was a vibration, synergy in the air that I had never felt before.

The main event was due to begin in fifteen minutes and I began conversing with the daughter of the founder of Marcus Bookstores, one of the oldest black book stores in the bay area. She had a aura around her that read tranquility. She was thin in build and her hair consisted of salt and pepper locks that streamed down her back.  In speaking to her I grew excited about her vast understanding of the universe.  She spoke of planets yet to be discovered and the beauty and power we carry as negus’s and kentake’s. She was anointed with knowledge. I thanked her and began escorting our guest into the main ballroom.

As we stood Iyanla entered the room as “living my life likes it golden” by Jill Scott began to play. The words of the song seemed to resonate with each step that she took toward the podium .

All of the speakers shared their wisdom and enlightened the hearts of of all who were present that day. After thanking all of our guest, myself and the eight other executives sat down for a celebratory lunch at the steak house inside the hotel.  I had another event I had to attend that evening and steak was on the menu. I ordered a roasted chicken sandwich. After ordering our food the senior executive vice president thanked everyone for there participation in a successful event.  While we ate our meal we shared stories of success and failures of running highly productive sales team.

I was having such a great time and didn’t want to leave but knew I only had a few hours to prepare for the next event. I excused myself and walked through the lobby of the hotel to valet and handed my ticket to the attendant to retrieve my car.  When my car arrived the valet handed me my keys, I gave him a tip and I headed to the bay bridge.

As I drove down battery street to bush, I noticed my throat began to itch. There was some construction going on at the stop light. I attributed my itchy throat to whatever particles may have been floating in the air and I closed my sunroof. By the time I got onto the bay bridge my lip,eyes and throat seemed to be swelling rapidly. I recognized these symptoms and thought to myself, “I’m fucked I just got on the bay bridge and I’m having an allergic reaction”. Peanut butter had been my kryptonite since birth. I panicked and I hit the pedal. I kept saying to myself I have to make it to the nearest hospital.  A voice said “Kaiser,Broadway,Oakland”, it was approximately ten miles away from where I was located on the bridge. I kept driving as fast as I could weaving in and out of traffic. Praying, please no traffic, it’s Saturday, please no traffic, I can’t die on the bay bridge, my son is only two. When I exited the freeway it seemed as if from the middle of my fore head a movie projector took over my vision and became my eyes. It was my compass and directed me the rest of the way to the emergency room. What was strange was that I knew when to stop at a red lights and how close in proximity I was with the cars in front of me. I kept praying, please, I have to see my babies smile one more time.

When I approached the emergency room I was guided into the ambulance entrance of the hospital. I jumped out of the car and ran into the emergency room. I was met by a male nurse who asked,” who drove you here”, I said “I did” he responded “impossible”. The only thing I could see was his eyes that appeared on my projector. He had laid me on a gurney and ran me into a empty room. A new doctor or nurse seemed to join the team every few seconds. One person began attaching white patches to my chest and I felt several shots being injected into my thigh. I was passing out and then waking back up. I could only see images of white moving around me and I yelled out “I’m dying, help me”.  I’m traveling in and out of existence and it feels like a deep sleep interrupted. All I want at this moment is to hear my babies voices.

The hospital had gone through my cell phone and contacted a good friend of mine who called my fiancee.  When I woke up the next day my doctor explained to me that if I had arrived to the emergency room two minutes later, I would of died. I had suffered from a severe case of anaphylactic shock. My organs were beginning to shut down from the swelling within. The doctors left the room and my good friend Anita arrived.  When she reached my bed she looks at my face and screams  “damnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”, I asked for a mirror and she responded, “I don’t even have one girl”. Later that day my fiancee tells me that my face was distorted beyond recognition from the swelling.  My doctor had me stay in the hospital an additional day to make sure I didn’t have a relapse.

On my way home from the hospital it seemed as if the tree’s were greener than I remember. I looked at my fiancee and said thank you, he had been by my side, holding my hand from the time I came out of the emergency room. I took time to peer through the sun roof and appreciate the presence of angels dancing on fluffy white clouds enveloped between the blue sky. When I heard my kids laughing in the back seat of the car. I tear up, for this moment is pure bliss.

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