That One Sick Girl

I am supposed to be working on my open letter series, but I see a problem that needs more attention right now, so I'm changing up what I was going to write about next. This is an open letter to Americans. To all citizens:  I'm not usually one to care much for politics. I see the corruption, and I turn my head because, frankly, I don't know what to do with it. That being said, what is happening in America today needs to be addressed. From my perspective, we are no longer a nation united. We are a nation divided, and that fact saddens me immensely. Since when has it been okay to disown someone based on who they voted for? How did it come to this? Fear. Fear is a powerful emotion. I realize that. But it shouldn't control our understanding that everyone has a different opinion, and everyone sees life from a different perspective. If we are so much against discrimination that we vote one way based on that, then how can we think it okay to discriminate against other

So, when I looked through my blog posts the other day, I noticed that I have never done a series. In that moment, an idea occurred to me to change that, and I want to see how it goes. However, I will ask that you bare with me through this series as I am a college student, and I function on very little sleep. I will get to it when I get to it and that is that. Here is my idea: I want to write a series of open letters to people or groups of people who have impacted my life in some way, whether good or bad. I am constantly learning new lessons through my experiences with people, and I would love the chance to sort through my thoughts and write them down.  The first letter is to prayer warriors.   I run into you everyday, whether its at school or somewhere else entirely. I smile, and you smile back,.. and you see me.  You are the person who prays a simple flash prayer and talks to God in a moment of time. You are the person who writes requests on your hands so that you reme

When I started this blog three years ago I never expected it to turn into what it has. I was, quite honestly, merely looking for a way to let out all of the pent up anger I had lurking inside of me. I was so frustrated with my becoming sicker than I ever imagined I could be, and I wanted to let it go. To put it plainly, I was done. I chose to start writing because it has always been good therapy for me. It allows me to passionately express my inner most thoughts and intentions in a healthy way. In a sense, writing is, to me, what running is for a runner (shout out to my buddy Noah Camp!). It calms me and allows my soul to rest. It is second nature. All of that being said, I had certain expectations when I sat down to write my first blog post. As I previously mentioned, I expected to find rest. I expected to lose my bad attitude. I even expected to gain new perspective. However, I did not expect to completely surrender my writing to what God had to say through me. This blog has be

When looking for a title for any given post, I really have to think about the main thing that I want to share with you as my readers. I know that this title suggests that I might be talking only to those who have a chronic illness like myself, but that isn't the case. Sure, the idea for this train of thought may have spurred from my life experiences, but I wouldn't be a very good thinker (I've been accused of thinking too much way too many times to count...) or a very good writer if I didn't over analyse and expand on the initial thought.  Here is what I've come up with. Take it or leave it, but I think you should take it... (If it was appropriate to use emojis in blog posts, I'd SO have a winky face here.) Also, I promise I'll get to the point eventually. I'm 20 years old, I look 15, and I feel 80. This is the thought that has been running through my head for the last several months as the summer wore on. I work in child care when home from

I get it. I really do. I'm a teenage girl who can't hold down food. I must have an eating disorder, right? Wrong. For you to completely disregard anything I tell you based on your made up notions about me is absolutely disgusting to me. I am your patient, and I have done nothing but prove to you over and over that I am not faking my illness. Honestly, I don't see how I could fake the extensive medical history that I have. If you had ever listened to a word I said, you would know that this has been going on since I was a small child. This has gone on for far too long. You've been in charge of my care during every inpatient stay for the last three years. When does it end? I'm really tired of your games. I don't need your snide comments, and I really don't need the self-hate that fills my head every time I've been around you. Did you realize that you make me feel like I am crazy? I literally spend two weeks undoing what you did in just one week lo

It has been a while since I have shared my story, and given that it is Feeding Tube Awareness Week, I feel like now is the time to do so.  I'm not really sure how or where to start, so bear with me. As a baby, I was pretty puky to say the least.  My mom tells me stories about how I would vomit any time I would eat, and all the doctors would say is that all babies did that.  Of course, my mom didn't really believe that all babies projectile vomited every time they ate, but she was nineteen and just kept hearing that I was fine... she didn't know what else to do. Jump forward a year or two. While I was a toddler, maybe one or two, it was anything red.  If my mom even gave me a red apple I would throw it back up.  Then at three, it was always, "mommy my tummy hurts."  Every. Single. Day. That's when she first started taking me to doctors. Lets jump forward in time again. I'm in school now, and I'm always sick.  I remember missing countless field

Wow... I am almost lost for words when I think about all of the love and support being shown to me by complete strangers. Let me just say, I can definitely feel your prayers being lifted up to our Lord in Heaven, and, little by little, He is taking away my fears. As far as my health goes, I'm still in pretty bad shape. I drove back to college last night, and the pain in my hips and lower back is definitely worsened today. I'm hoping that will get better with time and rest.. We have yet to hear about my biopsy results, so I have no new news as far as treatment options and the official diagnosis of Behcet's Disease, but I'm hoping those results will come sooner rather than later. When they do come, the plan is to start a drug known as Remicade. This drug has to be infused, so I will most likely need a new central line put in, but, frankly, I'm okay with that because my veins are so tired. The simple act of drawing blood often takes 13+ sticks with no success. I am r

Admitting to fear has been difficult, but healing, in many, many ways.  It's come to a point in this crazy life of mine, where I have to completely rely on my faith in God. I just can't do it on my own anymore, and that is okay. I have been flaring for several months, and it's finally come to a point where I feel as if all I want to do is cry. I'm afraid for myself. I'm afraid for my life My pain is at an all time high, and I continue to gain new symptoms pretty regularly.  It's exhausting. In May I started getting vasculitis in all of my IV sites which caused blood clots.  I then needed to wear compression garments for several months. In addition, the new symptoms have brought forth a very frightening new diagnosis.  I must admit, though the diagnosis isn't yet official, I was almost brought to my knees in terror when I realized the seriousness with which things are headed.  We are 98% sure that my biopsy results will come back saying exactl