“Choose one,” the masked man growled as I stood in the doorway, frozen in fear. “It’s either the painting or the pearls.”
I tried to get the words out, but the mere sight of the crowbar in his hands and the open window had already stolen my voice. I reached for my purse to find my phone, not daring to lose eye contact, but before I could call 911, he whisked out a lighter from his back pocket.
“You have five seconds to pick one or I’ll burn the whole place down instead.”
Continue reading “The Criminal No One Can Stop: When Illness Is a Crime Scene”
Five years ago today, I made a decision that would change my life: I published my first post on this blog.
I didn’t tell anyone—not even my best friend or my family. It was my little secret project that I never intended to keep up for more than a few months—and yet, here we are in 2019.
Back then, I was a castaway on a desert island of illness, tossing out that first post like a message in a bottle—I didn’t know if anyone would ever see it, but nonetheless I felt compelled to write. After all, it was one of the few things that brought me peace from the depression that was engulfing me.
Continue reading “My 5-Year Blogversary… And What Might Be Next”
“There’s no cure. No one knows if you’ll ever get better.”
The realities of my situation swirled in my mind as I tried to make sense out of what was happening. None of it was news, but somehow the word hit me harder than ever before:
“With the encephalomyelitis…” my doctor began at a recent check-up, but I have no idea what came after, because that word was all I could hear.
Continue reading “What It’s Like to Get an Incurable Diagnosis at 24: How I’m Coping with ME/CFS”
As someone with a chronic illness that was once misdiagnosed as a psychiatric disorder, but who also does have mental health issues, it’s a constant balancing act trying to understand my brain while convincing doctors that mental illness is only one of my problems.
For eight years, the conclusion was that I was sick because I was depressed. (Since when did depression cause visible joint inflammation?) Even as a kid, I knew better than to believe that.
I was only thirteen the first time a doctor misattributed my physical illness to my poor mental health, but I knew that I knew myself and my body better than a doctor who’d just met me:
“I’m not sick because I’m depressed,” I growled. “I’m depressed because I’m sick.”
Continue reading “What Mental Health Awareness Means When Chronically Ill”
After just one stride, I knew something wasn’t right. I’d always run through anything—be it sickness, rain, or depression—but today was different. Today, in the midst of training for my second half-marathon, my whole body felt like it was made of lead, and no matter how hard I tried I could barely pick up my legs.
I shuffled down the road for two miles before the frustration of a terrible performance got the best of me, and I dragged myself home, now dizzy from exhaustion. I went to bed in the hopes that I could sleep it off… Continue reading “The Plot Twist I Never Expected… And How I’ve Learned to Accept It”
Last month, after finishing my first semester of grad school, the dread of having to come back in January to do it all over again drowned out any sense of accomplishment. Although I liked my colleagues, the truth is that I was miserable so much of that fall. And until now, I didn’t know why.
Continue reading “Facing The What-If’s of Chronic Illness: Why Do Grad School While Sick?”
As I opened my eyes to the morning sunlight peeking through my blinds, for a feel blissful seconds, I forgot the many reasons I shouldn’t feel as calm as I did in that moment. But not a minute later, it all came rushing back, and my stomach did a somersault.
I rolled over and saw a missed call from my infusion pharmacy, and all at once I remembered the horrible quandary I’m in. I remembered the unfortunate events that led to it. And worst of all, I remembered that losing access to monthly IVIG treatments could mean I was on the verge of a relapse that would make me lose my mind. Continue reading “The Questions No One Should Have to Ask: Life on the Verge of Relapse”
“How’s grad school going?” my friend from home asked.
“I mean—I’m glad I’m trying it,” I stammered, going on about a few highlights.
“But do you like it?” she pressed.
The truth is that I’d been afraid to ask myself this very question, because I was afraid to learn the answer….
But first, how is grad school going?
Continue reading “How I Tackle Grad School with Cognitive Problems from PANS”