Bailey Anne Vincent,  —

I am writing this from my bedroom — trapped. Like a character in a movie. Or Jim Gaffigan when he talks about being outnumbered. This is my SOS letter to you, The Column Reader, saying: “Send carrier pigeons. Send string cheese snacks. Send Supernanny. Send help.” I am…

I just had surgery again, and now more people will follow me. I don’t want to write about the surgery (again) because it’s the same one I had a few months ago. Even so, a few months from now, when I’m no longer bemoaning my moaning or showing…

This is what I need. I’m going to tell you instead of my doctors, because that’s the life of a chronic patient. Even though I will tell my team, and I adore them, their hands are tied, because I am not a whole person. Instead, I am chunks and pieces,…

“I am sick of being a woman,” I say far too often. “Especially a sick one.” Maybe you’ve read this before. I’ve probably written it. But it begs repeating. It’s hard seeking healthcare as a woman because our concerns are quick to be dismissed, our symptoms swept under the rug.

Chadwick Boseman is dead, and I’m going to write about it. He has been dead for seven months now, so this isn’t breaking news. Even so, I remember exactly when it happened. It was the same day my Aunt Joyce died, and I remember thinking how strange it…

I am staring at a blank page trying to figure out what to write, and all I want to say is: “I’m so stressed.” I want to tell you about all the crazy pressures and stressors I’m under because it’s all I can think about. How can I write anything…

Because we just honored Rare Disease Day on Feb. 28, I’d like to share what it’s like living with one. Having a rare disease means strangers telling you what your rare disease means, even though they’ve never lived or worked with it themselves. It means existing with stereotypes…

“I am so happy right now,” I say to my partner as we set off on a drive on an ordinary Sunday. I haven’t said this much in the last year, although I’ve tried. “This moment is brought to you by No Pain,” I joke in that commercial voice we…

It’s 10:25 a.m. and all I’ve had is coffee. Last week, I wrote about my struggles with cystic fibrosis-related digestive damage and my increasingly fragile colon (which is not a colon anymore, but a small intestine and an inch of rectum pretending to be a colon), and I keep…

I went to bed hungry last night, and I woke up scared of food. This is my new reality. Although this is an old-new one I’ve lived (and lived to forget) time and again, I still don’t have it mastered. Years ago, I couldn’t eat more than mashed potatoes and…