An article I wrote is up on The Mighty today. Below is a clip of the article. Please feel free to read more at the source.
"The day that I was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension, a doctor waltzed into the room and announced that I had five, maybe 10 years left to live. He had spoken to my parents first about the news. I looked over at my parents to gauge their reaction. Was this really happening? My mama said very strongly, “It will be OK, because we have hope, and we will get through this.” The doctor seemed almost angry by what my mama said. He nearly cut her off to say, “This isn’t cancer. Hope won’t help you.” That was pretty much the end of the conversation. Well… actually, it wasn’t.
I was going to leave this part out, but it didn’t feel authentic. After what the doctor said I threatened to end my life. If hope couldn’t help me… if there was no hope for me, how could I possibly face each day? I was instructed to go have more blood work and go home after my parents convinced the doctor I would be safer at home with them than at their ward. It was a few days before Christmas. None of this felt like the movies."
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