I Am THAT Sick. 

“Do you feel like you have quality of life?” was something asked by my palliative care nurse yesterday. Honestly, who could call this tube and machine attached to me “quality?”

I have been writing for almost five years about living with a terminal disease that is masked by this perceived normal, if you will, and the absolute frustration of everyday ignorance when it comes to people respecting and believing your reality. We are made out to be drama queens, negative, “too much”, and just about any other word humans would like to use as a buffer for their level of comfort. It’s an isolating feeling to know you are surrounded by people who will slap a prayer on a Facebook status, but will indirectly do what they can to keep your “suckage” far away from their steady life. It’s a dull feeling to know that you live among people who are contributing to the lack of early diagnosis problem by once again thinking you are just being dramatic, or negative. Patients literally die because they are told consistently that nothing is wrong.

Late January, death was on my mind quite frequently. My “end of life” wishes, and how they might find me in my home. I was having tachycardic episodes just even trying to pet Rocco, and found myself laying in the floor more often than not trying to calm my breathing, and move past that suffocating feeling. I knew what was coming; my invisible illness was working its way out.

After an almost two-week hospital stay, countless mental breakdowns, bruised arms, bruised hands, new nurse friends, and “mixing classes”- I walked away with a tube in my chest attached to a little machine. I never realized how many v-necks I own, or tops that lace up until I noticed a little white patch peeking out in the mirror. I have attempted to walk across my living room countless times before feeling a little tug reminding me that I am permanently bonded to this anchor. I forgot to enjoy just seeing my necklace resting against my bare chest, or how amazing my weird habit of rubbing my collar bones felt in which now my right one has a tube stretched over it.


Quite shockingly, the amount of “I didn’t know you were THIS sick” messages I received is more sickening than my heart failure in itself. I guess people really do want this justifiable evidence that you are in fact suffering which I guess seems understandable, but; while they see tubing they still don’t see the bills pile up for the expensive maintenance that is required to keep you alive. While they see your pump now they still don’t see you spending enormous amounts of time mixing your medication just right so you don’t accidentally kill yourself. While they see grumpy Facebook updates they don’t feel the mind numbing reality of laying in bed, throwing up, running to the bathroom every five seconds, and doing what you can to manage your pain level. While they see your spotty red rash along with your chest they don’t see your mini hospital that is quickly swallowing your cute home.

Congrats. You have your physical evidence. I am sick. My body is now reflecting its insides – and you know what? Despite whether Pulmonary Hypertension was visible to you or not, it has been this way for seven years – since day one of my diagnosis. It has always been this level of life altering since the moment they told me I did not have a good chance at a quality of life for long. It has been this horrible since the first echocardiogram when I was eighteen, or finding out I could never carry my own child. Open your eyes, listen to people, and gain some perspective on what sick means. The thought, and fact that you are stuck inside of a body that cannot carry you across the finish line, and that will cost you millions of dollars is realistic. You are allowed to feel this way; do not minimize your pain for others comfort.

While I realize I am NOT my disease, I find myself enveloped within it quite frequently. Instead of fighting it, I am making friends with it whether you can conveniently see that or not.

-haley.

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Stay Gold.

Don’t meet others expectations for you. Don’t expect anyone’s understanding towards your suffering, and do not apologize for your pain. Do set your own goals, and meet your own expectations for yourself despite what society wants for “you.” Do feel your pain, acknowledge it, and do not hide your suffering. Stay Gold to what you are, what you feel, and what you do. Stay Gold to what you need, and what you want. Stay Gold to all those little things that appear shattered and broken in your mind, but so delicately and warmly reflect you.

Stay Gold to you.

-haley.

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Awareness IS Power.

I guess you could call me a realistic type of person; for those of us who say that we often border the “negative” side to life. We are hushed, scolded, and covered up while others keep talking about their blessed life, and glare at humans who have an outcry. That’s fine, and all well for you, but my voice and my passion does not exist without a drive…and what drives me are the faults I have been born into. It’s okay to say that. I have a very faulty life. What makes it okay to say that? Well, it’s very hard to keep endless anger and pain locked inside of yourself. My organs are heavy from a daily battle against themselves, and quite frankly, I refuse to let them swim in a secret pain so that others may continuously live a life of comfort.

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The world is in a very weird, and groundbreaking place – can we all agree on that? I think because of the power of social media, life experiences, and just plain intelligence that people (and definitely our kids) are coming in tune with an “awareness.” They get political issues, social issues, climate issues, personal issues, drug issues, racial issues…all of the ugliness delivered to their LED screens, or experience this in their daily life. I feel that America’s new generations are creating a voice for themselves on racial issues, political issues, women’s rights, and yes even healthcare issues because they want to see change. All of the not-so-comforting news that the world has tried to lock away in some secret closet is finally exploding because of the want for change, and awareness. While having your head in the sand might sound lovely, appreciating and trying to help others pain is more rewarding. With awareness I feel it creates intelligent, cultured people who will connect to others easily and form a genuine respect for another persons’ life. A fabulous example of this? Humans of New York. Hearing the struggles behind ordinary faces in turn creates a sea of emotion in us, and a connection to our fellow beings.

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I will not hide my anger, or pain for your comfort. Yes, I will try to be positive while being realistic. I want America to see what such young/ordinary looking people with an invisible illness do daily just to breathe. I want everyone to open their eyes, and mind to what a person really feels with a terminal illness – not just what books and movies let you think. I want the world to see how much companies from movie industries to insurance companies are profiting off of sick beings – including children. I want people to be aware.

Awareness is knowledge. Awareness is power. Awareness is respect. Awareness can change anything.

-haley.

 

Hear what I’m currently jamming to under “song of the week” 🙂

Close the Fucking Curtain.

Yes, I tend to be a closed off person. And yes, most of the time I can’t be found because I’m tucked away with Rocco. I can only handle so much person to person time, and long for the moments I come home to only a little black cat. With that being said, I feel like it’s somewhat a great time to be alive (eeehhh?!) for introverts because thanks to companies like Buzzfeed, we can now scroll through posts that point out the hilarity in our non social-ness making us feel just a tad bit better about our habits.

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While I’ve always enjoyed my introverted side, I at one point had no problem being an extrovert. I was on stage in pageants (yikes) competed all over the place in dance, and performed many many recitals. The stage was actually quite comfortable. However, this whole disease process has yet again altered my mind and spirit in ways that I didn’t know it could reach.

I have a problem expressing myself because I feel like I have been passed around (quite literally) for many medical professionals, counselors, advocates, and doctors to see. My life has been summed up into “patient info”, test results, numbers, and expected outcomes. Anyone who ever wanted to know me could sit in on meetings that they have after doctors speak with me, and try to discuss with their team what my next life decision could/should be.

On top of my medical life story, I have doctors in my uterus watching carefully to make sure I don’t pro-create. God forbid I act humanly, one slip up, and it’s over. It gets better this time – not only are my doctors going to have to hear about this, but America too! We have all these lovelies protesting at abortion clinics calling people a whore, slut, or sinner. One slip up, and could I even have access to a safe abortion in America anymore?

Besides my medical background, and uterus issues, I also have people shaving my crotch before surgeries just in case they need access to my femoral artery. I have people moving my breasts out-of-the-way to stick EKG cords all over my body so they know exactly what’s happening inside of me too. I have pharmacies demanding pregnancy tests (which is a federal law) before I can get a refill on my new medication. When you add-on all the questions from innocent bystanders all I am left with at this point is the thought of escape. The thought of just not knowing anyone, or anyone knowing me for just one minute.

I feel exposed. I feel naked. I feel like an experiment. I feel like I have no human rights sometimes, and that I am just a body that everyone keeps poking at. So, please excuse me when I don’t update. Please don’t mind when I’m quiet, when I don’t answer, or yes, when I close my measly fucking curtain door.

-haley.

It’s Not Fair.

My life has been a series of a whole lot of struggles, especially lately. Life will never hesitate to jump out of the bushes, and knock you to the ground. From dealing with my health, jobs, stressful life decisions, and Rocco’s health you could definitely say I’m exhausted.

When I first adopted Rocco I had just been diagnosed. I had nothing to do, was forced not to work, or go to school, so therefore I decided to bring home a very small barely six-week old kitten. He was hard work from day one: he had fleas, he couldn’t receive any flea treatments because he was too young, he had to have baths, and he also had to be bottle fed. When he slept I slept, and when he was awake he was needing to be fed, and supervised (he wasn’t allowed to walk around because the other cats didn’t need fleas – also he was too small.) For being on bed rest, I was a very busy new “cat mom.” I cried by the end of that first week because I was so exhausted taking care of this super young cat. I noticed though the more he grew that the harder his abdomen got. He was this tiny little cat with this very distended bulging belly.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetRocco was diagnosed with Asthma a little over a year later. He has an oversized heart, and lots of fluid in his lungs which causes him to start coughing in which then he literally starts drowning in his own body. My dad and I have spent hundreds of dollars on appointments, equipement, medication and beyond that have spent hours with Rocco trying to keep him breathing. Our other cats were kind of ignored because of this – and we’ve exhausted and ignored our own needs because of the love we have for Rocco.

Rocco is my kid, and he is my best friend. Moving away by myself he of course came with me, and I’ve clung to him even more than before. He is my companion, he is who I come home to at night, and he is who needs me and loves me unconditionally. Our relationship has definitely changed after moving away though. I never spend too many hours away from my home, when I drive to the nearest town for groceries I time it just right, and feel excited/panicky on the drive back because I know Rocco is waiting…even though he is probably asleep and could care less. After I come home from work, he purrs, and is glued to me. When I leave town, he comes with me. And at three this morning while he gasped for air, I cried and clung to him almost yelling at him that he couldn’t leave me yet. That’s when it hit me; how ridiculously co-dependent I am on Rocco.

It’s honestly not fair that he was put into my life with such a malfunctioning set of lungs. It’s not fair how attached we’ve become with always a threatening gloom hanging over us that one of these days his lungs will not keep going. However like I’ve said before, I’m glad he ended up with a mom who also has shitty lungs, and knew how to take care of him while others would’ve had given up on him long ago. I hope my Rocco will stay with me a little longer. His purrs, furs, grumpy attitudes, cuddles, and talkative days are what I need.

I love him so much. It really just isn’t fair. That’s all.

-haley.

Textbook Breakdown Part 2: Diagnosis.

So, yesterday we covered what Pulmonary Hypertension is in itself. Now today we’re moving onto how we find PH, and who has it. If you missed yesterdays post, then click here to share or read it.

So, since Pulmonary Hypertension is happening in the lungs itself affecting the heart and internal organs, it’s not affecting much of what happens on the outside of this person. In fact, most Pulmonary Hypertension patients are young; kids, babies, teenagers, young adults, you name it. Anyone could be born with Pulmonary Hypertension. Basically, Pulmonary Hypertension hides behind a mask of youth, or “normal.”

Someone may be born with Pulmonary Hypertension, and take years to finally show it. They could be like me, attending public school, participating in physical activities, then one day feel a very unusual and horrid pain all over, and lose consciousness. Most people would either ignore it, or think they had an asthma attack. Even if this young patient was attended to by medical care in a hospital, or doctors office they would never do an EKG (checking heart rhythms) an oxygen test, or chest x-ray…why? Because why in the world would we check a very young person’s heart when they just got tired, and collapsed? When people ask why we collapsed, we tend to only be able to answer that we couldn’t breathe. People generalize those symptoms down into something like asthma. PH doesn’t have a disease appearance because it’s all internal therefore just about every person does not take the person’s symptoms seriously. A PH patient begins to think they might be crazy, are out of shape, and need to learn to keep up. Maybe they’re told that they have an anxiety disorder, or something. Basically, it is very very very rare for anyone to listen to someone suffering from PH because they can’t “see it.”

So what happens after being ignored for so long? The pressure in the heart, and lungs begins to mount and the patient begins to get worse. Not being able to walk, fainting with any physical exertion, and the downfall of their quality of life. Yes, this will even happen to kids. Pulmonary Hypertension patients can die at any time for a variety of things; blood clots, an arteries bursting, their heart rhythm becoming too chaotic, and finally their heart just stopping. If a PH patient is not taken seriously by medical professionals in time, their chances of dying increase every day.

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So what happens when a patient is actually taken seriously, and what does it take for a doctor to find PH? An EKG, and a simple oxygen saturation test should at least show some concern with a weird rhythm presenting a conduction delay, or showing the right side of the heart is working too hard. The oxygen levels should also be low. A chest x-ray, or echo should show that the heart is over sized which a normal physician would immediately want a heart catheterization done. A heart catheterization is where they insert a catheter in the femoral artery (or a vein in the neck) and move it all the way into the heart. From there using fluoroscopy (a moving xray) they can view the actual heart itself to make sure it was formed right. Then they can measure the pressures, and actually see how the heart is pumping so they get an idea of what is wrong. If the heart is formed normally, but is still working so hard to the point of failure then that tells the doctor that the pressure is coming from the lungs…Pulmonary Hypertension.

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At this point the doctor would finish the surgery, and would contact the closest Pulmonary Hypertension Specialist, or Pulmonologist to start treating the patient immediately. Depending on how high pressures are, and what shape the patient’s organs are in, the doctor would now notify the family of the terminal diagnosis, and then the patient with a very grim life expectancy.

What now? Tomorrow we will dive into treatment.

-haley.

Take A Stand.

I’m so sick of the world right now. I’m so done with all the racist war shit that people keep throwing fire on rather than helping. Also, I’m sick of women being attacked. If you are a woman, and a PH patient, you should definitely be re-thinking how you vote, what you support, and you need to take action.

A lot of people are surprised to find out I’m Pro-choice. As if I’m some inspirational girl who supposedly is now an evil queen because I support “killing babies.” Yea, um, you’re ignorant. You see, I just don’t think it’s anyone else’s decision what I do with my life. What color my hair is, where I work, who I talk to, what car I buy, and most importantly when I will have children. “Well you decided to have kids the minute you conceive.” Not exactly, sister Christian. Lots of people like to participate in the act of sex before they ever think of having kids. Like getting married, celebrating that with your loved one, then years later finally deciding that you are “ready” to have a kid. What makes these women so different?

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You know, in a medical setting we can never force someone to do what they do not want to do. I didn’t want to be on blood thinners, and despite my then cardiologist trying to bully me into doing so, I chose not to then fired him. When I was first diagnosed, I had to release everything and give consent that they could even tell my parents what was going on because I was eighteen. Usually, you get such high respect in the medical field of what can and cannot be done to you, and if you don’t then legal trouble will follow. But why do we lose such respect when someone doesn’t agree with our life decision? After all, isn’t this medical?

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Something we are not really familiar with until we get into a bad situation is called Body Autonomy; ones right or control over their own body and it must not be infringed upon. For example, only you can decide to be an organ donor in which you and only you have to fill out paperwork saying to do so. A doctor can’t just walk up to you and say, “I like the way some of your organs are functioning. Since you are probably going to die today, we’ll be taking those after you are gone.” Would you be furious? Yes. Because it is your body. Even after a person has died they cannot just take the organs they need because a dead body still has body autonomy…a dead fucking body still has a right until proper consent is given.

You see, women should be able to decide what they want to do with their body despite what you think. Since when did you feel the need to control everyone’s decisions when you probably couldn’t decide what to wear this morning? What’s scary is the outlaw of abortion if all these psychotic religious nutbags get their way. Women who have Pulmonary Hypertension cannot carry a child due to the eighty-five percent mortality rate. Most just collapse and die from heart failure around seven months into it. On top of that, was the fetus ever getting enough oxygen the whole time? Probably not. So now we just lost a mother, and a child. Prevention? Women with Pulmonary Hypertension already have a risk of blood clotting, stroke, and heart attack. Birth control is a very unsafe, and deadly “option.”

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Why, why, why would you take away someone’s right? Why does a dead body have more control over their body than a woman? Who would ever think that this is okay? If you don’t agree with life decisions then keep on your side of the fence, and love others despite what psychotic outbursts you think you need to be having. I’m tired of “freedom” just being an advertisement for America rather than the truth; after all, what kind of freedom are we progressing into?

-haley.

Look Beyond the Medication.

The other day I couldn’t help but see a negative comment from a struggling person that is dealing with PH in their life, or someone else’s. It read along the lines of, “PH already has you, and it will kill you” and yada yada yada. Does anyone think that this person kinda sounds like Peter Van Houten from Fault? Yea…

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Besides just being caught up in our bodies that fail us, we are caught up in medicine. A medical way of thinking, being by the book, and paying attention to statistics. We get sooo caught up in our outward images, and what we are being told all the time that we never strengthen ourselves inside out. We’re so used to adopting this “weak” lifestyle and image. People ask me why I’m at peace, or why I have a good attitude about seventy-five percent of the time, and it’s because I preach preach preach on mind over matter, and on spirituality. I’m not perfect, and there are definitely sucky days. Overall the spirit will always dominate the body. Our body will sometimes get its way, but that doesn’t mean we have to be miserable.

The more I immerse myself in my native studies, the more I discover exactly how amazing it is. Native American culture is good about stepping back, and appreciating things a lot of people dont…like the earth for example. 😉 But seriously, it’s awesome. When digging the other day I happened across this man comparing Western medicine with Native Spirituality in which he said The idea of wholeness is paramount in understanding Native-American perception of disability. Unlike many cultures that shun people with disabilities, Native Americans honor and respect them. They believe that a person weak in body is often blessed by the Creator as being especially strong in mind and spirit. By reducing our emphasis on the physical, which promotes our view of separation from our fellow man and all that is, a greater sense of connection with the whole is created, the ultimate source of strength.” -Laurance Johnston

Honor Song good sir!!!! Yes yes yes. The differences in how people view themselves, and other people greatly affects their life. How people choose to live, how to seek and find their true selves, their gifts, and cleansing their spirit greatly will affect their life. Another great example of how we are taught to think versus what we should be doing is proven by Kenneth Bear Hawk Cohen; Western Medicine – “How can I destroy my disease?” Native American Medicine – “What can the disease teach the patient? Is there a message or story in the disease?”

jingleFun Fact: The Jingle Dress (as pictured above) is a healing dress. It originates from the Ojibwe nation in which a girl was sick. Her father prayed to the Creator, offering tobacco, and seeking a vision. That night he dreamed of a dress with rolled up tobacco snuff lids, and a certain dance. He constructed the dress for his daughter, made her dance, and she recovered. To this day the Jingle is a competitive dance in Pow-Wows, and a lot of women will dance for those who need to be healed who still follow their traditions associated with the dress. Love love love it, as it is a powerful dance.

I’m not saying you need to start wearing feathers, and attending Pow-Wows (actually you should) but maybe this will give you a different perception, and outlook on your health. Summing someone up into a disease that we define as “it has you, and will kill you” is such an insult to our Creator. He made such beautiful things, including you; like you. Not just your body, but you.

-haley.

Medicated Lungs and a Healing Heart.

There are two versions of Haley Ann; Calm, forgiving and accepting Haley, or as I like to call the other side of myself, Hurricane Haley. When my insurance company notified me that my copay for the medication that lets me keep breathing is two thousand and three hundred dollars for a ninety day supply, I really thought we were going to have to rebuild the house; Hurricane Haley was an understatement. At this point, I really shouldn’t be shocked. Healthcare is an over rated, over priced and screwed system that is basically unrealistic, but they know they can nail us anyways because healthcare is necessary. If you have insurance, don’t have insurance, Medicaid, whatever…we’re fucked. Lets just admit it.

Asking a twenty-two year old to pay two grand for a medication makes me laugh. Seriously, lets just start designing my headstone now because I refuse to pay that much. Yea, these companies are brilliant for saving my life, they deserve their part, but I also intend to live my life. Not just to devote my life to my medication that also gives me red patches, swelling, and migraines. I have dreams, like living in New Mexico, buying a new car, moving out, and maybe just maybe attaining a college education. But nah, I’ll just devote my life to my medication…no. Yea, I’m mad that the medication I actually have to have is that expensive, and most people were surprised to find out that if I didn’t find some way to pay for it then I didn’t care. “But Haley, this will heal you!” Yea…it makes my lungs feel better; but Adcirca will never heal me, or make me happy.

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As I have sported on my shirt many many many times before, and repeated myself, it’s an act of Mind Over Matter. Despite how many times you want to deny that, its true. Your medication can only go so far, because scientifically it’s programmed to do such. It doesn’t care about your mood that day, your goals, your loves, or dreams. Its pumped into your body, and does its job until another dosage is necessary. My medication improved my life, and yea kinda saved my life, but I had to save my own life with a different kind of healing. My medication was doing the best job it possibly could, and I still wanted to die for a long time, so I refused to take it. See? Your mind is in control. Patients; it really is all in your head. You are not crazy, your disease is not some “illusion” but if you cannot keep yourself emotionally and mentally happy, and at peace your body will not follow. It has to work together.

I got mad about my two thousand dollar copay, and for a moment actually worried. But I know that I heal myself in a completely different way. I know that dancing for my creator, thanking him for the food he provided, the new life, the four winds (ridiculous Texas winds) that he gave us to maintain all four seasons, and the beautiful animals and nature is healing to me. I know he listens to not only the drumming, and the rattling on the dance floor, but my prayers as well thanking him for allowing me to physically do these dances with people I love despite the aching in my body I feel towards the end. Yes, my body hurts, my heart works harder than it should, and my lungs want to cave in; but I am thrilled. I know you all have different ways of feeling spiritually satisfied, and alive; well then act on it, and actually live within it. I am healed spiritually, and will depend on my medication to do its part; but my soul will lead the way.

-haley.

@haleyann92

Song of the Week is Thirteen by Big Star. My heart just needs to process it. Check it out under the tab!

Its the Kind of Tired Sleep Can’t Fix.

Well, Its November. I’m kind of in shock because yesterday it was July. Well that’s what it felt like. Anyways, November brings not only Native American Heritage month, but Pulmonary Hypertension Awareness month as well. I guess I will be speaking my mind quite a bit on these topics. 😉

Judgmental; having or displaying an excessively critical point of view.

Each time I’ve been a tad heated this week, I’ve realized it all falls back to this main source. Judgement; my biggest pet peeve. I hate being judged for obvious reasons. Its crude, insensible, it leads to bigger problems, and it really does show the most truest quality in that person. Most of the time people get to the point of blowing it off, but I’m Haley, and I want to make a fuss.

Eleven years ago, I stumbled around a middle school gym in the worst pain of my very short life. The girls, being middle school girls, glared at me along with the gym teacher who loved her “basketball” girls. She would glare across at me as if I was refusing to keep up out of laziness, but I was literally gasping. I felt it; those uncomfortable vibes itching down my back, and into my nerves. She, along with everyone else in that hour of school were judging me. I felt fat, out-of-place, stupid, and that was the first year I’ve ever encountered suicidal thoughts. I told myself right there that I, and my body were not enough. I was eleven years old.

In high school I would stumble up stairs, and again clutch my chest to endure the worst pain my body could evoke. Girls I was attempting to keep up with would stand there, roll their eyes and say, “hurry up.” They would mock that they had to wait on Haley, “Haley’s dying” and again I was not enough. I could not comprehend why the stairs tired me, and that they freely ran up them. People didn’t understand why my hair was long, why I didn’t wear makeup, why I didn’t listen to music of this era, and really they just didn’t know me at all. They didn’t bother to understand me, they just wanted to make remarks. You see, we all think this ends in high school, but it doesn’t. I was a seventeen year old, more dead than I had ever been alive. My mind, along with my body wanted to be dead.

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At eighteen when they told me I was on death’s doorstep, I literally felt nothing. For seven years people told me, “She’s fat, lazy, its exercise-induced asthma, she’s weird, it’s just asthma, you have a chest infection…” blah blah blah. It was judgement; the literal definition. People’s doubts, critical thinking, lack of compassion, and stupidity had me almost dead at eighteen. My heart was killing itself.

I, by a miracle have made it to four years. Through surgeries, painful rehabilitation, excruciating treatments, body changes I thought I would never have to endure along with medical bills. When I make it to eight years I’ll be considered a long-term survivor. I still get glares; I try to power through dancing, something I actually love and people think I’m exaggerating when I mention that I could die. No, I actually can. My oxygen drops extremely low, and I’m in tachycardia at least once a day. I’m required to wear tubes up my nose which I try not to do because I feel as though I look stupid. I see your glares, I feel your vibes as I voice my opinons, and try to find my way through incredibly difficult emotions and self hate. I know I’m being judged as some dramatic college student, but if you laid on the surgery table awake, saw your own beating heart glowing on a screen, and endured the pain of this vital organ shutting the rest of your body down, you would think twice.

I hate judgement. Its caused death, discomfort, suicidal thoughts, actions, and it’s just not love. It’s the opposite of the religion you probably preach, and its unpleasant. I don’t care about mistakes people have made or continue to make. But is it too much to ask that we progress into the future with only love for people? Trying to understand, and comprehend them? Is that too much to ask for these days? I guess so. Thats all I have to say about that, because I’m tired; so tired of this subject.

Support Awareness, support learning about people, and support loving them as well. Thats all.

-haley.