Wendy Williams says she passed her competency tests with “flying colors.”
One day after being rushed to a New York hospital, the former daytime television host spoke with Rosanna Scotto on a live segment of “Good Day New York” on Tuesday to discuss the outcome of her competency tests.
Wendy Williams, the iconic figure who entertained audiences for years, revealed that she not only passed her competency tests but did so with “flying colors.” This affirmation came as a sigh of relief to many who have followed her journey. It appears, despite the medical challenges she has faced, her determination remains steadfast.
“Everybody knows factually that Wendy is not incapacitated,” Ginalisa Monterrosa, one of her caretakers, spoke with firm conviction during the live segment.
On the morning of her heroic chat, she appeared on “The Breakfast Club,” sharing her heartfelt plea for independent medical evaluation. She recalled, “The police showed up. I’m exhausted. I wanted to go to the hospital to talk to the doctor.” A palpable sense of exhaustion mingled with a fierce will to regain autonomy surged through her words.
Monterroso emphasized their relentless pursuit of progress concerning Wendy’s guardianship, initiated back in May 2022. She described the waiting game, stating, “We were pretty stuck at one point waiting for the lawyers to break through and get some type of trial.” The journey has undoubtedly been challenging, testing the limits of advocacy and resilience.
In the midst of navigating these delicate waters, Monterroso recalled attempting to convince the police to help. “I pleaded with the police as if Wendy was my child. ‘Please you need to get her off this floor. She is confined.’” Such testimony uncovers the layers of concern and protective instincts from those close to Wendy.
In her conversations with law enforcement, Wendy asserted, “I am not incapacitated as I’ve been accused [of].” Her frustration resonates deeply—living in a place labeled as a “memory unit” while retaining a sharp awareness of her situation creates an unsettling irony. “The people who live there don’t remember anything, unlike me. Why am I here? What is going on? It’s a cry for help,” she shared poignantly.
When the officers arrived at her current residence, Wendy felt a shiver of anxiety. The worry weighed heavily. Monterroso, attentive to Wendy’s needs, encouraged her to request a transfer to the hospital, voicing her fears of mistreatment in the facility to the medical staff. “It was a hard time,” she said. Together, they persisted until Wendy secured her rightful evaluation.
Upon her arrival at the hospital, Wendy recalled, “When I got to the hospital, I got checked in. They checked me for heart palpitations and did all kinds of scans.” The experience served as a turning point, spotlighting the fine line between care and control.
Amid the hospital proceedings, though, differences arose between Wendy’s guardian and attorney over the evaluations’ direction. This tension only deepened the narrative of an individual striving for independence within a framework constructed to protect her.
After navigating the legal labyrinth, Wendy faced two competency tests, both of which she passed immeasurably. “EMS responded and transported a 60-year-old female to an area hospital for evaluation,” a statement read. In a twist of fate, prior to this evaluation, a handwritten note had fluttered from her window: “Help! Wendy!!”
Earlier this year, Wendy vehemently denied any cognitive impairment, comparing her existence under guardianship to imprisonment. “I am not cognitively impaired, but I feel like I am in prison,” she proclaimed during her January interview with “The Breakfast Club.” Her vulnerability echoed through the space, revealing a woman ensnared in a system meant to safeguard yet feeling reflective and caught amidst those who need such care far more than she does.
“I’m in this place with people who are in their 90s and their 80s and their 70s…There’s something wrong with these people here on this floor. I am clearly not.” Her observations wander through her circumstances, seeking clarity in chaos. Each day, the keys remain out of reach, inaccessible and daunting. “Excuse me, doctor, can you tell me what this pill is for?” carries the weight of yearning for agency—an echo of her former life.
In February 2024, the unsettling news broke of Wendy’s diagnosis with progressive aphasia and frontotemporal dementia, taking the public by surprise, yet her spirit continues to shine through. As she takes each step forward, the hope for her autonomy glimmers. Her story revolves not just around passing tests, but the fight for her voice—a voice that deserves to be heard, loud and clear.
