Days We counted time in days after my surgery. The first few were a blur. “How many days was I asleep?” I wondered. I was lucky. Thursday night, I went into the operating room. Friday night, I got off the ventilator. (Courtesy of Kathleen Sheffer)…
Brad and I met because he commented on my blog, wherefore I visited his blog and read this piece in which he laments not connecting with a deaf classmate before he lost his own hearing.
“I’m fine.” Even though I know it’s a lie, sometimes it’s easiest for me to give this response when people ask, “How are you?” Why am I so accustomed to saying this even when I feel far from it? The reality is…
The paper crinkled beneath me as I sat on the edge of the exam room table while waiting for my pulmonary doctor. I was at the hospital for my quarterly appointment to do a few tests and check my health status. I felt…
My beginner’s driving permit expired this summer. Even though it is no longer valid, I still carry it around with me in my wallet. It serves as a sort of memento, a sacred artifact to remind me that I am 29 and still can’t drive. I…
“It’s all in your head.” I wish medical professionals knew just how damaging this comment is to someone with a chronic medical condition. These words can make those of us with chronic illness question our judgment of symptoms. It leaves us feeling angry and forces us…
Trusting myself enough to know when something is “off” with my body has been one of the hardest things about managing a chronic illness. Paying attention to how our bodies feel is physically and mentally exhausting. While figuring out our new normal, we…
Life expectancy is on my mind. Maybe it is because we are in the new year. Maybe it is my impending doctor’s appointments and tests that will update me on the progress I’ve made in my PHight with pulmonary hypertension (PH). Maybe it is because life is fragile…
On early morning drives to Stanford Medical Center, I blast upbeat songs and belt out inaccurate lyrics, my shih tzu giving confused looks from the passenger seat. I’m waking my lungs up in preparation for a 7:30 a.m. pulmonary function test (PFT).
I found myself on Tinder a few weeks ago, after swearing to my friends and family that I would never date again. Truthfully, I felt like I made an account as anthropological research. As a recovering hopeless romantic, the idea of swiping through a bunch of…
“People like this are the reason we have to wait around for a spot!” In that moment, as I was being publicly attacked for my use of the valet service at the hospital, I felt so much anger and sadness. I was…
On Jan. 2, 2014, I stayed in bed for the third day in a row. I cried, slept, researched ways to die, and starved myself. Late that evening, frustrated and hysterical, I disconnected my life-sustaining continuous intravenous medication in front of my exasperated mother,…
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