Call me the Grinch, but for people with PANS, the holidays aren’t necessarily “the most wonderful time of the year.” For me, the season brings back painful memories of when I was sicker. Plus, symptoms can be more pronounced when contrasted with holiday activities, family gatherings, and Christmas parties.
As I approach final exams this week, I’ve been thinking back to three years ago, when my life changed forever, on December 17th, 2012.
At the time, I was seventeen and in my senior year of high school. I was excelling academically, and people told me I’d have a promising career. I was popular with lots of friends. I felt such a sense of freedom in being an “adult” by learning to drive. I thought the possibilities for my future were endless.
But in an afternoon, my whole world collapsed.
I’ll never forget when I ran my first half-marathon in May.
While some people might remember the elation of achieving such a momentous feat, what I remember most was the pit in my stomach whenever I saw a mile marker—all I could think about was how many more I had left and how impossible it seemed that I would finish.
But I made it to the end.
