by Mikaela Rossman Clark
There are firsts in life that you always remember. Your first kiss. First pet. First roller coaster ride. The first time you hop on a plane for an epic adventure.
by Mikaela Rossman Clark
There are firsts in life that you always remember. Your first kiss. First pet. First roller coaster ride. The first time you hop on a plane for an epic adventure.
The doctor came in and confirmed what the tech shouldn’t have shared, but did. We didn’t know what “it” was, but he thought “it” needed further investigation. And so, that night when my parents came home from work I had to let them know that “it” was in me, and “it” was coming out. They didn’t even know I’d skipped work.
What followed over the next three years was a blurry series of doctors’ visits, surgeries, treatments, hospitalizations, rehabilitations, rinse, and repeat. I worried about a lot of things. I worried whether I would live. I worried whether anybody would love me enough to take me on as a lifelong liability. I wondered if I would be able to have children. I wondered if I’d be able to play sports or travel.
But I was lucky. The one thing I didn’t have to worry about was whether I’d be surrounded by people who would support me through it. I had friends and family cooking when I could eat (and enticing me to eat with incredible cookies–my weakness!). I had people lined up to drive me to appointments and to come visit me when I spent weeks hospitalized. I had friends willing to dress me and drive me around just so I could see the outside even when I wasn’t strong enough to go for a walk. I had family doing my laundry and finding clothes that were comfortable enough to wear when nothing felt right. I was fortunate to have insurance to reduce the bills, and savings to make up for the rest.
When I look back at that dark time in my life–those memories are the light. While my medical teams did what that had to do to get me well, the people who stepped in to make sure my basic needs were met were truly my lifesavers.
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