After she was beaten and raped in the military, Marian Hood said, she had to rethink everything about her life.
There no longer would be a military career. So she began working as a secretary for a car dealer. Hood married and divorced twice. She had two daughters by her first husband, and two by her second. Her only son had heart problems and died as an infant.
When her second husband became violent, the 5-foot-3, 116-pound Hood fought back and broke his nose. “I told the police I would do whatever it took” to protect her and her daughters, she said.
In 1992, she snapped again. Out with a group of girlfriends before a wedding, she walked out of a club to avoid a man who had been pressuring her to dance. He followed her outside. She said she pulled out a straight razor and cut him. “I blanked out,” Hood recalled later. “People came out and pulled me off.”
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She was charged with attempted manslaughter. Her attorney cited her military history as reason for the attack, Hood said, and she avoided jail in a plea agreement that included counseling.
That counseling changed her life.
“That was my awakening period,” Hood said. “I didn’t know who I was. Didn’t know why I was so angry.”
Now 34, she lives with her daughters, ages 4, 7, 9 and 14, in government housing in South Boston. She relies on myriad medications.
“I was kicked so bad, my spine is like an ‘S,”‘ she said of the beating she suffered during her rape.
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Diagnosed in 1998 with cervical cancer that has spread to her intestines, she undergoes chemotherapy every week. It burns her skin, makes her so sick at times that she throws up all day. “What keeps me going are those four kids.
“I wonder why things happened. I would have been a different person. A lot was taken from me.”
In December 2002, the Department of Veterans Affairs awarded Hood disability payments based on her having post-traumatic stress disorder. On Aug. 28, she received notice that she is losing Medicaid benefits because her income exceeds the limit by $82 a month.
She underwent surgery on her back the week before. Now she is panicked that mounting medical bills will dash her plans. She had hoped to buy her sister a business and a house in her hometown of Columbus, Ga., so her sister could take care of Hood’s children after she is gone.
“I’m not afraid of death. The only thing I worry about is my babies. Not being able to hug them or comfort them. … But I’m tired of fighting.”
She wants to complete a book of poetry before she dies. “That will be my legacy.”
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