The Beginning

This journey is going to have ups and downs—good days and bad days, moments of strength, moments of sadness, anger, and disruption. There will be incidents that shake you and systems that fail you, especially when care and compassion are most needed. I’m learning that healing isn’t just physical; it’s emotional, environmental, and deeply connected to how we are treated when we are most vulnerable.

I entered the hospital on October 31st, 2025 Halloween. I arrived around five in the morning, only to be told my procedure had been pushed back to eleven. So I waited. I sat. I did nothing but sit with my thoughts and my nerves. When it was finally time, they called me back. I turned to my mom it was just me and her. I told her I loved her. She was able to walk me to the back, and she watched me go. That moment mattered more than I can explain.

I was prepared for surgery to remove multiple hernias, along with getting the sleeve to prevent them from returning. I was out before I knew it. I don’t even know how long I was gone. When I woke up in my room, I spoke to my mom, and that’s when I learned what she experienced while I was under.

No one gave her updates. No one checked in. No one explained what was happening. Eventually, she used her phone to call the main hospital line, reached the floor I was on, and was told, “We don’t have time to talk to you right now. We’re trying to save your daughter’s life.” Then they hung up on her.

That was strike one.

You put a mother an only parent to an only child in a position of fear and helplessness, with no information and no reassurance. The way she was treated affected me. It affected my spirit. It affected my recovery. Care does not end when the patient goes under anesthesia. How families are treated matters.

That was only the beginning. Sitting in cold rooms. Minimal staff presence. Everything reduced to pushing a button and waiting. This all happened on check-in day alone.

I share this not to complain, but to document. To tell the truth. To push for better. I am grateful to have access to medical care. I am grateful for the resources that allowed me to have this surgery. I don’t take that lightly. But gratitude does not mean silence. Appreciation does not cancel accountability.

Systems don’t improve unless someone is willing to say, this part is broken.

I will continue to add to this journey as it unfolds. This is my story, told my way, through my lens. And if sharing it helps push compassion, communication, and humanity back into spaces where people are healing—then using my voice is part of my recovery.