Free Everybody's Got Something by Robin Roberts, Veronica Chambers Page A

when I was sitting across from the president of the United States? It was when Emily held up a large note card that read: LIPSTICK ON TEETH . I’m not joking. In fact, she framed the card and has it hanging in her office.
     
    There was so much ahead of me in my health journey, but I’ll always remember that spring 2012 as being the kind of roller-coaster ride where I ricocheted between screams of joy and cries of fear. I was diagnosed with MDS on the very same day that Good Morning America became the number one morning show for the first time in 852 weeks. I met with Dr. Doom and Gloom on the very same day the president of the United States invited me to the White House for an announcement that made history. I’ve always been a person who is focused and present. It’s part of my athlete DNA. You’ll never score, literally or metaphorically, if you’re mentally making your to-do list while you’re supposed to be lining up to take your shot. But that spring, when the highs were so high and the lows were so low, I learned even more the importance of being in the moment. As I sat across from the president, I tried to let myself feel all the goodness and the grace of my position, how lucky I am to do what I do for a living and how much my hard work in the field has paid off. When we reached number one, I tried to let the sweetness of the moment sink in. For over a decade, I had gotten up at 3:45 a.m., headed to the studio and given our beloved viewers and our talented team—both in front of the camera and behind the scenes—everything I had, and it had paid off. We were number one. As much as I could, I let myself feel it.
    * * *
    I remember getting a call from one of my GMA senior producers, Kris Sebastian, just after my interview with the president. She said: “Do you have any idea how big you are right now? How big this story is?” I was so much in the moment when I was doing the story. I was the one sitting there across from the president of the United States when he uttered those historic words. But once it was over, all I wanted to do was get home to Momma.
    Dorothy had already taken a lot of time off from work and had gone back to Mississippi. Once I got home, I would have to manage caring for Mom, for the rest of her visit to New York, by myself. I know that a lot of you have done this juggle: managing your own health issues while at the same time managing the care of an elderly parent.
    When I walked into my apartment after getting home from D.C., Mom was scooting around my apartment in her power chair. I was mentally and physically exhausted from the day’s events. I told Mom that I needed a moment just to catch my breath. I went into my bedroom to change into my sweats and then I heard a terrifying crash. I went running to Mom’s room and was so relieved to see that Momma was not hurt. The damage, as I quickly surveyed the room, was minimal. The end table was overturned, and the glass lamp that once sat on it was shattered into a gazillion pieces all over the floor. The cord of Mom’s power chair got tangled with the leg of the end table. Mom was leaning down in her chair, trying to pick up pieces of glass.
    “It’s okay, Momma,” I whispered. “I’ll clean it up.”
    I softly implored her to go in the living room while I picked up the slivers and fragments.
    What I saw in the living room breaks my heart to this day. Mom was slumped in her chair like a scolded child. Her head hanging down, she said, “I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t do anything right. I’m destroying your beautiful home, I should just leave.” All I could do was hug and tell her how much I loved her. I wasn’t mad—how could I be? But she didn’t seem to believe me.
    My mind flashed back to parallel moments in my childhood. My mom had so many beautiful things that she had collected during my father’s travels with the Air Force. As the wife of an enlisted officer, we never had a lot of money, but she scrimped and saved and