How My Illness Has Made Me Grow Into Something Greater

I'm currently writing a scholarship essay on how I have grown as an individual throughout my last four years of high school. There are so many mixed emotions going through my head, as I think about the last four years of my life. I decided to sit down and re-read the blogposts I have written throughout these last few years. As I have started to look over these posts I am slowly beginning to process what I have been through over these last several years.

Having this blog has been one of the best decisions I've made in my life. I am very thankful for the person who encouraged me to pursue this avenue because I realize I have a story to tell. When I started my blog I didn't share the link with too many people. Only a handful of people, even knew the blog existed in the first place. I don't think my parents had the link for a while! For about a year and a half I kept like this, until one day I slowly started posting links onto Facebook. I shared a post that picked up quite a bit of attention, because of that, I allowed myself to become more vulnerable when it came to uncovering the truths I've kept secret.

I was only eleven when all of my health issues became increasingly prominent in my life. For the longest time we couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. By the time of my freshman year rolled around I had a feeding tube shoved up my nose. During my sophomore year, my entire digestive tract had shutdown and became clinically diagnosed with Mitochondrial Disease. My life was completely altered and everything I had shattered into a million and one pieces. Like a puzzle I had to learn how to pick up the pieces and put everything I had back together. As I began to put my life back in order, I also began to write more frequently. When I read those words I once wrote shows me how quickly I had to grow up. I had to make a decision as to, whether or not I was going to let the life I must live defeat me.

As you can tell I decided that the life that was forced upon me was something I could overcome. It took some time but I have found my happy place in writing. I'm no longer that scared fourteen year old girl anymore. Some how I found a voice even when I couldn't find the words to speak about how I felt. The essay I have written for the scholarship is down below. It took me a while but I found a way to share with the world that my life has taken so many twists and turns, and how I was able to grow out of my situation.


Essay below:

            I have never been able to fully comprehend why my body has chosen to stage a civil war. It has become an uphill battle in a war I will never be able to win. How can anyone win a war against his or her own body? When the war first started I was a scared fourteen-year-old little girl who went from a life of high school, soccer, and friends to a life of surgeries, pills, and doctors. Almost four years ago the fight for my life began and this fight has changed me in more ways than I could have ever imagined. My body might be growing weaker but this passion for advocacy and awareness is only growing stronger.

            My health declined in my freshman year of high school and I had a feeding tube placed because my body was no longer able to tolerate the food I ate. Imagine not being able to eat Thanksgiving dinner or even your own birthday cake… During this time I struggled greatly as I adapted to my new lifestyle. I was shy about my disease mainly because I felt that if nobody talked about it then maybe I could pretend like it didn’t even exist. It worked for a little while and I felt normal but as my health progressed things were no longer as easy to hide as they used to be.

            The doctors didn’t believe my condition would progress as it did with my brother, but it did. The war raged on in my body and it was time for another battle. For months I struggled both physically and emotionally. I was diagnosed with Mitochondrial Disease like my brother. Mitochondrial Disease is a degenerative condition that has no treatment or cure. I became scared thinking about the struggles my brother faces, knowing I too would be following that same line. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

            Prior to my diagnosis I spent many hours volunteering for a cure to save my brother, but it became different when it was myself. It became more personal, so I chose to become a voice for teenagers with chronic illnesses. I know what life is like for sick teenagers and when I noticed there wasn’t anyone who was speaking out on our behalf, I wanted to be that person.

            I started a blog (ChronicallyAwesome23.blogspot.com) to share my story during ninth grade. With this blog my friends began to understand the daily challenges of my life. At this time I also began speaking engagements, lobbied at the State House, and started spending time connecting with others teens like myself.

            Shortly thereafter in March of 2015, a post I had written for a special needs forum changed my life, when Huffington Post contacted me to be featured on their website. Since then I’ve written eight pieces for their website and have connected with other newspapers both international and domestic.

            When I first got sick I was closed off, but I’ve learned to be open and outgoing, as I’ve become comfortable with my illness. I want to continue my work with my advocacy efforts and hope to pursue my passion for a career in journalism to continue to share the stories of others and myself. If you asked me today who I was in ninth grade I don’t think I would be able to recognize myself. These last four years have changed me for the greater good and I couldn’t be any more proud of the person I have become.

The Color Green

            I used to hate the color green. As a child my favorite color was always blue or purple. To be honest, I thought green was an ugly color. However, my mind quickly changed when my brother was diagnosed with Mitochondrial Disease. The color green became a symbol for the fight to find a cure. I soon realized just how important a cure was for my brother. So I chose to set out to find a cure to save my little brother, but little did anyone know I would need that cure for myself as well.

There are some memories that are etched into your brain like an Etch A Sketch. However, unlike an Etch A Sketch you are unable to erase these memories. You can’t just shake the memories out of your brain and hope the page will be cleared away. Sadly, that’s not just how it works. On April 16^th, 2011 my life changed in one short moment and nothing has ever been the same since. This will be a day that is forever etched into my brain as a memory, but it’s certainly not a good one. No matter how hard I try I can’t get that day out of my head. Nothing has ever been the same; that day will always be written down as the worst day of my life.

On that Spring Saturday in April my youngest brother, Tyler had a seizure in my arms. I was only twelve. I remember screaming for help, thinking that this was all my fault, and the worst of it all was seeing my nine year old brother, Brycen see his brother being carried out the door seizing. Brycen had never seen Tyler’s first seizure, so this was all new for him. We didn’t even know if our brother would survive the night. He didn’t handle it well but I couldn’t say I did either. We both collapsed to the floor never letting go of each other. All he did was scream. All I did was cry. We were all alone. We laid there for what seemed like hours. I could hardly console him, much less myself.

Tyler survived the night, but he was unconscious laying in a bed in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. His little five-year-old body received a beating. Tyler turned blue within minutes of my parents rushing him out of the house. We didn’t call an ambulance because at the time of his first seizure it took well over an hour for an ambulance to reach our house. Tyler didn’t have that time. He began to turn blue within a matter of minutes after he had left our house. My parents were able to receive help at the fire station but that poor boy continued to seize. He spent over two hours seizing on that night. Tyler spent the next twenty-four hours unconscious, but he pulled through without any lasting effects from the seizure.

A picture of Tyler and I taken on New Years Eve 2010

            The next week Tyler was diagnosed with Mitochondrial Disease. Mitochondrial disease is a degenerative and terminal, genetic disorder. I cried. Our family knew a little boy with Mitochondrial Disease. His name was Zach and although Zach was only three he was so sick. He passed away two months after my brother was diagnosed.

Thereafter my life began to change even more. It happened so fast and I lost all control.  The perfect happy life I once had no longer existed. It was like my life was sucked up into a tornado, spit back out again, and shattered into a million and one pieces. I too became sick. The first time it happened, I had to stop eating all food. Yes, all food! Imagine living a life without Halloween candy, Christmas cookies, Easter eggs, and even your own birthday cake! I received a feeding tube. I got better, I was so thankful. I thought maybe this was it. I knew I could manage this. It was not even close to compare to what my brother goes through everyday. I was okay. I found my new normal, although life was anything but normal.

June 2012

Nine months after I put my life back together it shattered again. The catch was this time it would be so much worse. My feeding tube was no longer working. Everyone told me this would never happen! They never believed I would wind up in the same position as my brother has. I cried and cried. The strain mentally was almost as bad as it was physically. I knew what all this meant. I already knew what I would soon be facing, because I’ve seen my brother face this fight. I think that was the worst part, knowing what was before me. That little fifteen year old me was so scared.

September 2013

Just a few months later Mitochondrial Disease stormed its way into my life, again. However, this time it was pertaining to myself not my brother. It became official. The top pediatric specialist who treats one of my diseases told me I would never get better and even if I did I would still be very sick and rely on tubes to keep me alive. How can doctors tell a person there’s nothing they can do to make things okay again? Like dominos in a domino line my organs have started to fall down and fail one by one. Organs failing right in front of your eyes and there’s nothing you can do about it. No treatment, No radiation, No chance of remission, No surgery, No magic pill, and worst of all No cure.

So here I am two years later still breathing, still living, and still fighting. I’ve rebuilt my life to the best of my abilities. I have chosen to live my life just as any other person would because, just like you I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Maybe not today, but maybe five years from now what if the doctors were able to find a cure and they would be able to fix me? If they had a cure I would be able to have a whole future ahead of me and that’s a lot to think about.

February 2016

When I set out to find a cure to save my brother I never expected I would have all these opportunities available to help me do so. I’m still out there searching and fighting for a cure. It’s not only about my brother anymore. It’s about the child who is born every fifteen minutes who will develop Mitochondrial Disease by age ten, the child who lost their sister or brother to the disease, the parents who are struggling to find a diagnosis for their child, the mom who is unable to take care of her four children because she is too ill, the teenager who is fighting to make it through high school despite their illness, and anyone who is still pursuing their dreams even though their body is failing them.

The color green isn’t so bad anymore. It is now one of my favorite colors next to blue, of course. Mitochondrial disease has become a blessing and a curse. Without Mitochondrial Disease I would have never had some of these amazing experiences I’ve been gifted with, but I also see it as a curse as I see both mine and my brother’s bodies slowly shutdown on us. My life may not ever have a happy ending but it’s not about the happy ending it’s about the story and if you ask me I think it’s a damn good story.