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She also has had enough legal worries this year. Having violated the terms of her visa by staying beyond 2000 and getting a job, she could technically be deported. But ironically, because she was working illegally at the World Trade Center on the morning of Sept. 11, she is protected from deportation. The U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service has said it will not target illegals who were victims of the attacks. Genelle still must legalize her residency so she can travel freely--she and Roger had to postpone a trip to Trinidad and an expenses-paid honeymoon to the U.S. Virgin Islands--but Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's office is on the case.
Other matters loom larger. To an outsider who comes over to her place on a sunny day and watches her flip channels, Genelle seems listless, even depressed. She cancels plans often, saying she is tired or busy. Genelle explains that her new faith has freed her of earthly concerns that used to preoccupy her. "There's a million changes in me," she says. "I used to be this fun person, laughing, going out. Now I spend most of my time talking about the Bible, giving the glory to God. Before, I worried so much--about money, about looking good. Now I'm walking around with a limp, and I have these scars. And I don't worry about that; it's not important."
Yet Genelle may be ignoring not just her scars but the wounds beneath. She spent a month in Bellevue Hospital Center after Sept. 11, and during her stay, doctors discovered signs of cervical cancer and a heart condition. What would have overwhelmed an ordinary patient barely fazed her. "I let the Lord lead me," she says. "He's my doctor. I saw the cardio doctor recently, and he was like, 'Oh, you have to take your medication [atenolol, to lower blood pressure]. You really must promise me you'll take it.' I was smiling. He said, 'You think of this as a joke?' I said, 'No, but I've been off it for, like, four months.' I told him the Lord knows what he's doing."
It would be presumptuous to tell someone touched by a miracle that she shouldn't count on God again. (And indeed, a recent biopsy showed no cervical cancer.) But Genelle may be using her faith as a curtain, one she can draw across a roomful of unfinished business. "I think she hasn't dealt with the tragedy, the trauma she went through," says her cousin Gail. "She wants to block it out."
Gail and her sister Lauren have been worried about Genelle for several months. They believe that after Sept. 11, Genelle rushed to change her relationships with Jesus and with Roger before she had fully healed inside. They don't know if she really wants to belong to a conservative evangelical church. And even though Gail was maid of honor and Lauren was a bridesmaid at Genelle's wedding, the cousins think that Roger can be too controlling of Genelle--and that she isn't assertive enough.
On top of everything else, reporters keep calling and reminding Genelle that her very existence is newsworthy. Time-consuming TV appearances--she has done Oprah, British TV and CNN--have distracted her, the cousins say. "People need to see the real Judy, not 'Genelle,' and the media need to stop portraying her as this amazing, perfect survivor," says Gail. "What she needs is time for peace and reflection."