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Chapter 1
Don't Do It

By Begin Again

The old elevator groaned and sighed as it lumbered up the cold, drafty shaft. The Teenage Health Support Clinic was on the fifth floor. Posters about safe sex, planned parenthood, and birth control covered the once light green walls. Sable's eyes were closed, but her mind kept replaying the moment she'd told Kenny she didn't want to do it, but then melted under his passionate kisses and did it.
 
That fateful night was eight weeks ago. Now, Kenny and his family had moved away, school finals were over, and three home pregnancy tests had assured Sable she was alone and pregnant.
 
Last week, she'd given it her best effort to be grown up, though she hadn't the slightest idea of what that meant except she needed to see a doctor. She ruled out telling her mother because she didn't want the lecture, so she'd gone to the building by herself. She'd stood across the street for the longest time, staring up toward the windows on the fifth floor. Occasionally, she saw another teenage girl pulled down the sidewalk by an angry older woman, probably her mother. The last girl rushed from the building, crying so hard she bumped into a man entering the building.
 
The stranger's harsh "Grow up" was like a slap in Sable's face even though he hadn't been talking to her. She shivered, pulled her jacket tighter, and shook her head. " I don't want to do it." Once the words crossed her lips, Sable had walked away without looking back.

************
 
Last night, she'd discovered Kenny's phone was disconnected when she tried to call him. Reality came crashing in. Trembling, she'd found her mom, and through a flood of tears, she confessed her ugly secret. Of course, the expected lecture came, but then her mom understood how affected her daughter was by the event and tried to console her. That conversation put the two of them in the elevator headed to the fifth floor.
 
Sable hesitated as the doors opened, but her mom took her hand. "Come on. Nothing's going to happen. It's just an examination and a lot of conversation."
 
Sable planted her feet like a stubborn mule and tugged against her mom's grip. "I don't want to do it, Mom. I can't."
 
"I'm sorry, Sable. You and Kenny played in the adult world, and he has left you to deal with the consequences. Here is where we start." Sable's tear-stained eyes met her mom's. She was relieved her mom wasn't yelling, but she still didn't want to do it.

 
*************

It had been thirty-one weeks, three days, and ten hours since that first appointment. Sable sat on the front porch, sipping lemonade and slowly drawing circles across her stomach. In agreement with her mom and the clinic staff, Sable planned to put her baby up for adoption. She'd turned sixteen three weeks ago, in so many ways still a child herself. It had been a harsh lesson, but Sable had gotten through it. The journey was almost over. She was calm and ready.
 
Or so the young girl thought until a sharp pain ripped through her side. Sable's hands flew to her stomach, startled by the intensity of the pain. She could feel sudden dampness beneath her, and then her slacks were soaked. Her mother had given her enough books to read about giving birth that she knew it was time.
 
Her mom was dozing in the rocker beside her. Sable didn't know if she needed to tell her so soon, but she knew she wasn't ready to be alone. "Mom, wake up."
 
"I'm awake. Just resting my eyes,"
 
"I think it's time." Sable's voice quivered, and she gasped as another pain shot through her. "Mom, wake up."
 
"What's wrong?" Her mom didn't need an answer as she opened her eyes and glanced at her daughter. "Oh, dear. Guess the baby is coming."
 
Tears streamed down Sable's face. "I—I don't want to do it."
 
Her mom chuckled and patted Sable's shoulder. "Sorry, honey. You don't get a choice on this one."

********************
 
Hours later, an exhausted Sable gave birth to a six-pound, six-ounce bundle of joy, a baby girl with tufts of dark brown hair. She rested against Sable's chest peacefully. Sable touched her fingers one by one, amazed by her perfection.
 
"Mom, I don't want to do it." Crocodile tears streamed down Sable's face, and she lowered her head to kiss the top of her child's head.
 
Tears gathered in her mom's eyes as she smiled at her newborn granddaughter. "You don't want to do what, Sable? Do you want me to take her?"
 
Sable shook her head and sniffed. "I don't want anyone to take her. Please, don't let them. She belongs with us. I can't do it." Her eyes pleaded with her mom. "I don't want to do it."

 


Chapter 2
The Bottom Line

By Begin Again

Let me begin by stating this rant is solely coming from my heart and not directed at anyone. I'm venting because I know nowhere else to go.
 
The wheels of big business run this country and most of the world. They have the power to maneuver congress into passing or not passing laws that benefit their needs. They supply our land with products and technology, and we hope to share the benefits. And of course, they do it for the profits. The bigger their bottom line grows, the happier and greedier they are.
 
Even with her recommended Covid shots and precautions, Arianna contracted the virus. After many trips to the area emergency rooms and zoom conversations with her doctors, she could start the uphill climb and appeared to be rounding the top of the hill. The problem was another mountain was waiting for her.
 
 Her body succumbed to a rare side effect from the Covid virus. She has an autoimmune disease that only a handful of doctors have even seen or dealt with. Three times they sent her home because the doctors said they did not know how to treat her. Of course, her family immediately took her to another hospital with the same results.
 
A few days ago, she transferred to a major hospital in Chicago, and a team of doctors could diagnose the problem. Not only does this vibrant thirty-four-year-old woman struggle to breathe, but her legs have lost all strength, her arms are going numb, and her strength is seriously dwindling.
 
The hospital informed the family Arianna's insurance would not approve treatment until they further investigated because of the Covid factors and how they relate. The company said they would take it under advisement and let them know in about three or four weeks.
 
Unfortunately, the doctors don't believe she has that long to live. Family and friends spent two days calling hospitals, including the prestigious Mayo Clinic, and the response was the same. No one could take on her case without the money. Simply put, they each handed this girl a death sentence. Without the green in their coffers, nothing would be done.
 
No money, no hospital care. No treatment, no life. Covid has not only ravaged the pockets of our healthcare but has pulled the purse strings so tight and smothered any form of compassion. I understand that money is necessary to operate, but my heart tells me that all the people lying in the ICU don't have the money it takes to heal them, but dedicated doctors and nurses are treating them. So why single out Arianna's case?
 
I am not privy to the exact circumstances, but the family has raised between $15,000 to $20,000. The hospital's solution is to send Arianna home with breathing equipment and morphine and have her family transport her to and from the hospital for five days. Their mindset says this will eliminate the other medical charges. They can give the daily five-hour treatment to purify her blood and do whatever is necessary for five consecutive days, which is all the money will cover.
 
Hospitals are money machines. Once upon a time, we had doctors and hospitals who believed in saving lives first and worried about the bottom dollar later. My finger is not pointing at everyone involved in the medical field. I blame those who sit behind the desk and decide based on the bottom line and not on humanity. Build state-of-the-art buildings and display your latest innovative equipment and technology, but if only those who can afford it are privileged to use it, I pray for your souls on judgment day.
 
Thank you for reading my sad rant. With a heavy heart, I pray to God for a miracle. Please continue to pray for Arianna. Her son turns eighteen today, and I could not think of any better birthday present for him than to learn someone will help.
 
I am raising my eyes to the Lord and praying for our girl. Please join me. Thank you from Arianna, her family, my son, and myself.

 


Chapter 3
Scammed?

By Begin Again

A few weeks ago, a very close friend of my son was suffering from Covid. She was treated for about a week and then released from the hospital.
 
A few days later, she told my son that she was feeling sick again and that a horrible rash was spreading all across her body. She sent him pictures of her swollen face and the rash the following day. It wasn't a pretty sight.
 
She visited the emergency room on three or four separate days and was told they had no diagnosis except it seemed to be a reaction to the Covid virus. Each time, she was told to go home and rest as if it was the flu.
 
Instead of improving, her symptoms became much worse, and finally, the hospital admitted her. When the doctor could not give her a definite diagnosis, she was released. Her legs were going numb, and the scale of pain was increasing. Rotating from hospital to hospital wasn't alleviating any of the problems. Everyone agreed she had a problem, but no one knew the cure.
 
Finally, she transferred to a much larger hospital in Chicago, where she stayed for several days. Her family was told she had a rare auto-immune disease, which was most likely (but not guaranteed) to be caused by the Covid virus. The suggested treatment was astronomical, and her insurance balked at paying it. She was told they would take it under advisement and give her their decision in three or four weeks.
 
The doctors told her it was possible if the disease continued to escalate, she might not live that long. They also informed her family she would have to pay upfront or be discharged. Of course, she went home again.
 
Every day, my son was in contact with her family, hoping for a miracle. Her mother called and asked him to pray with her for a miracle. At that time, I, too, became emotionally involved with the family and my son's heartbreak.
 
When enough money was gathered for four of the necessary shots, she went back into the hospital to receive them, and then she was discharged again.
 
We were devastated by the photos and all the family information Matt received and had no reason to doubt the situation.
 
Matt was all in for his friend. Hundreds of people posted on his website, offering prayers for her recovery. He'd been posting daily updates that he received so that her followers (she's an up-coming actress) and Matt's (the movie producer) could know what was happening.
 
At the same time, the company editing his current project gave him the trailer. It's called God's Not Here. Of course, being the proud writer/producer that he is, he also released it on his website.
 
Suddenly, things changed. A live video was released (not by Matt) of his friend, screaming horrifically in pain. It was gut-wrenching to watch and horrifying.
 
Matt's first shock was the video. He couldn't believe she'd want people to see her in that state. His second shock was she was the one behind it, but most people who thought it was over-the-top were attacking Matt, accusing him of trying to hype his upcoming movie with her terrible situation.
 
He was confused, and he wanted her to know people thought he did it and were bashing him all over Facebook and on his website. He asked his "good friend" to have her family post that Matt had nothing to do with it, but he got a definite no.
 
That's where the half in-half out began. In the beginning, we were behind every word, supporting her and praying. Now, suddenly Matt was receiving horrible publicity regarding his movie, integrity, and loyalty to his friend.
 
He asked once again when two of his clients interested in his film told him they were going to reconsider because profiting from someone's problems to promote his business wasn't something they wanted to be involved in.
 
Once again, he begged his "good friend" to take the posts down or at least inform the public they were done by her request. When he received the second no, he was devastated. He knew she'd been very ill, but she was taking advantage of him. Her site was skyrocketing, and even a television station wanted to interview her. Matt decided to remove everything that pertained to her from his websites with a note that anyone wishing to continue to follow should go to the following sites. (His friend's IDMB and the website used for her followers.) He never accused or made any statements; he just removed himself from the situation.
 
Matt concluded that his "good friend" found more profit in gaining recognition than preserving their friendship during her illness. HE HAD BEEN SCAMMED.
 
Though she has been in the hospital again for seven days and then released, we have no way of knowing just how ill she was. It's so difficult to doubt a friend or to believe they would use you to better their career, but it had all the characteristics of a scam.
 
Now, one completed and two partial films are collecting dust on a shelf because Matt doesn't want to continue with them, knowing the scam. Of course, a part of him still wants to believe it was a misunderstanding. His heart is shattered, and his mind is spiraling.
 
Yesterday, he decided to move on. He started writing a different script with his old team encouraging him to do it. There is no way he could have ever foreseen that his "sweet friend" would use her illness and his friendship to further her own career, regardless of his expense.
 
I asked for prayers believing she needed them. And, of course, she was ill and did need them. But somewhere, her needs grew into a dark monster. I suppose she still needs our prayers for her illness and for forgiveness for hurting others for her benefit.
 
I decided to write this because I felt all of you had been deceived as well. People we trust and love are often the ones who hurt us the most. I do not wish her harm or failure in her career. Though I hope someday, she will understand the damage she did to her "good friend" and the trust she destroyed.
 
I know I am his mom, but I also know the kind of man he is and will always be. His faith is strong, and he believes he will overcome this, but I wonder how long it takes for his heart to mend.

 


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