Gave a Life, Lost a Life

Gave a Life, Lost a Life

Rehomore Romello Lee Spivey

“Until the lion writes his own story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter.”

-African proverb The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017, this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds, expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising, illustrating and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie, and positive self-projection to author new life narratives.

Since January 2017, ConTextos has collaborated with the Cook County Sheriff ’s Office to implement Authors Circle in Division X of Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narrative about violence and peace-building, and help author a hopeful future for these young men, their families and our collective communities.

In collaboration with

Gave a Life, Lost a Life Rehomore Romello Lee Spivey

2010, in a season I can no longer recollect, my mother was constantly being hospitalized.

She was dishonest with the family about her health problems. So my Aunt Mary, my mother’s youngest sister, organized a family gathering to announce that my mother had a leak in her kidney. If she didn’t refrain from drinking, one day she would need a transplant. Often enough we find that when people grow into habits and ways, it’s hard for them to change, or they refuse to put forth the effort all together. This happened to be such a case. So it was inevitable.

My mother needed a kidney transplant.

One by one, each family member offered to be her donor. However, not one member successfully matched my mother. I wasn’t present at the time, out of town attending to other affairs. When I returned I visited the University of Chicago Hospital. After some tests were run, finally a match had been made! The Doctor called and requested an immediate audience.

A rush of relief flowed through me when I was told I was a match. I was overjoyed to help my mother. I was eager to get it over with, because I knew she was tired of going through all of this. I was tired of seeing her go through it, too.

I’ll never forget that day when the decisions were made. When we got to the hospital, they were asking me all sorts of questions.

“Have you ever drank before?”

“Yes.”

“I think you’re lying to me.”

“So you said you do drink? Where and when?”

“I was 20 when I started drinking.”

“Do you work out?”

“No, I just get out of the car.”

“You’re in wonderful shape.”

My mother always said that my being a father at a young age helped me, because I didn’t smoke or drink. I wanted to be a good father figure to my kid. I didn’t know this would help in different ways, too.

The head doctor came out and she asked, “Is it OK if I send the image of your kidney to another specialist?”

“Why do y’all need to send them to somebody for?”

She said there’s nothing wrong. In 15 years she hadn’t seen kidneys like that. They were perfect. She had to send then out to see which one to take.

After finding out I was a match, my mama changed her mind. When they told her all the meds she would need to take, she decided to do dialysis instead. She went to dialysis for a while and we all got tired of that. It was her decision.

I took her. My auntie would sit with her on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Melissa had to go up there sometimes. Once she went up to tell a nurse that my Mom didn’t like it because she didn’t know how to stick her. When that nurse used a needle, my Mom’s arm would swell up.

Then they switched her doctor to UIC. Although we had to go through the process all over again, at UIC it was better. The doctors were better at explaining what was necessary to make this a success. I had gotten different messages. University of Chicago hospital told me I had to lose weight and UIC said I had to gain weight. The doctors at UIC were better at explaining the why.

The doctors at UIC gave me a list of things that I had to do to keep myself in shape. Sharon, who was my boo at the time, brought me everything on the list every month: 10 cases of Gatorade, 5-6 cases of bottled water. She bought everything on her LINK card. Sharon was great person with a good heart. She had ways that truly showed her loyalty.

When it was time to go, we had separate therapists. She had hers and I had my own. My therapist was cool. Let me know they were there just for me and if I wanted out, I had the right. Can’t nobody make me do something that I don’t want to do. In every meeting they let me know that up front. My therapist told me if I didn’t want to do it, she would give me a medical reason and nobody would have to know.

I’m like, “People really do that?”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised how many kids don’t want to do it.”

I feel like this. There are only two choices in this situation: Give her a kidney or Go to a funeral.

I’d rather give her a kidney. I took it to Facebook and posed a question to see what people would do and say. What I learned was that there was a lot of people who would let their Mom die before they give up their own life.

That’s so fucked up. That’s why I know God got me on everything and never lets me down.

The day is here.

Tuesday, April 15, 2013, 5:15am and I am on my way to UIC— me, my mom, and Carmo.

Carmo kept asking me about taking care of me when I get out and I told her I’m good, she can still go out of town. She had a trip booked to Miami and I didn’t want her to have to miss it. Besides, this was a simple procedure. Well, at least I thought it was going to be.

Every night I was in the hospital Reneta would come at night so she ain’t have to see nobody else or deal with all the bullshit. KB, Melissa and my Auntie Mary had the daytime on lock.

Tamika, Debbie and Carmo’s aunt came and checked on me as well. I had been in the hospital for two days when the nurse fucked up my phone.

She was changing my sheets after I told her there was no need because they had already been changed, but she decided to anyway. My phone which was on the bed hit the floor. As soon as it hit the floor I knew it was time for me to go.

I went to my mom’s house because she lived on the first floor and she was going to be in the hospital for a few more days. Reneta was there taking care of me. I was talking shit so she hit me with a bag of shoes and clothes. She thought the clothes came from a chick. It hurt so bad I couldn’t cry out or talk. They say the best time to get you back is when you down.

That’s exactly what she did.

I recovered for 5 months and there was physical pain. It was different. I took meds at 7am and would need to come back in the house an hour later for more painkillers. I felt OK, but different.

One day at 7:30am I received a call from my cousin Rico asking me to come get him from the Emergency Room. I told him that I couldn’t because I was scheduled to appear in court that morning. I asked what had happened. He replied with that goofy ass laugh of his and said he would tell me later. “Call me when you’re out of court,” he said.

Leaving court I received a second call from Rico, requesting that I take him to pick up some money from his mother. “Let me eat, Cuzo, and I’m on the way,” I told him.

However he called me back moments later, stating that a friend of the family, Pops, would take him. “Git up with me when you pop out.”

I dozed off. A call woke me up. I looked at my phone screen and recognized Mae’s number.

Mae is the mother of a young lady I was dating, named Sharon. When I answered, Sharon was obviously shook up.

“Homer! Your cousin laying in the street in the front of his house dead!”

The words struck me like lightning.

“What!?”

I jumped up, ran out the house, got in my van and drove from 83rd to 51st. When I arrived the scene was horrific. My cousin was just laying there.

I had just spoken with Rico 45 minutes ago.

Now he was covered in blood and gone forever.

Rico was my big brother. We talked every day. When I came outside I would go to see him and talk shit. I was fucked up about this. Sometimes I wanted to kill myself, because one of my brothers was not never coming back.

I will never see him until I get to the next life.

I ain’t have Dogus to tell me everything was going to be OK. He looked up and Rico got killed. I’m still fucked up to this day about it.

I just take it one day at a time. My family took a big loss, but God keeps me going for my kids.

I had to be strong for my family. They were losing it. He had just left his Mom’s house. You get a call and 10-20 minutes later he is gone.

He’s dead.

Shit don’t add up.

I don’t like talking about it.

It hurts too much.

I’ve lost friends and it hurt. Losing him fucked me up.

I never erased his number from my phone. I never let his number go. After he died, I used to call his voicemail to hear his voice.

I still haven’t got over losing him. I have learned to take life one day at a time.

Hey, my name is Rehomore Romello Lee Spivey and I gave my Mom a kidney.

Not long after I lost my brother.

I gave life and lost a life.

Rehomore I am from Loc City 51 and 53 Wood From nothing and something.

I am from a house that isn’t there anymore Shooting, killing, crying.

I am from the Spivey family I’m the 6th of 17 grandkids.

I’m from love and care From Robert and Fammaie Mae. I’m from the city of Chicago From no kids to 8 kids now.