The Beginning

In her late twenties she finally had the life that she had dreamed about. Financial and occupational security, a sporty car, an insane wardrobe, AND she was engaged to an equally attractive banker. Being in the same industry, they never missed an event and travelled incessantly. He had a young son, from a previous marriage, who lived with his mother in Germany, so even the thought of co-parenting wasn’t too stressful. The young couple planned their lives together and couldn’t be happier.

As they ironed out the details of a wedding ceremony that would bring together his Virgin Island family with her Jamaican family, it was poised to be an amazing event. If nothing else, it would give them the privacy and independence they sought. For most Caribbean families, it was completely expected that everyone lived in one home until they were able to purchase their own home. So many single adults still lived with their parents and even newly married couples would live in the same home as their in-laws until they were financially sound enough to move out.

Their marriage would give them freedom to live their lives exactly as they saw fit.

The thoughts of freedom, though, soon could not overshadow something that was seemingly awry.

Being from Jamaica and moving to south Florida the hot temperature was a constant, but for some reason it started to get less comfortable. As most twenty-somethings would do, she blew it off and adjusted her workout schedule to avoid being outside when the sun was at it’s hottest. That worked for awhile, then one day she went for a bike ride and found herself unable to pedal back. Unsure of what was happening she sat down and waited. About an hour later her brother, filled with worry, came looking for her along the bike path and carried her home.

What had been gentle prodding before became a direct order: “Go to the Dr.”

It ended up being her best and worst day.