Bailey Vincent,  —

Bailey is a Deaf 34-year-old with atypical cystic fibrosis. She has been a journalist, columnist, and novelist for almost two decades, but is also an altruist, feminist and narcissist who likes to ask for “fatty sushi” that’s not on the menu (it’s cream cheese, egg and avocado, respectively). She is artistic director of the body-positive dance company Company 360 in Virginia, as well as a professional dancer, choreographer, and homeschooling mother of two girls. As a formally misdiagnosed mutant, she hopes to raise awareness of atypical CFTR disease and help anyone who isn't genetically in the black or white feel less alone. For more on her activism or art, please see www.catchingbreaths.org.

Articles by Bailey Vincent

I Am Out of the Hospital and Can’t Write My Column

I don’t have anything to write. I don’t have anything to write because I don’t have anything left inside of me. I just got out of a stint in the hospital for a sinus-related exacerbation (among other things), and am currently on week two of home IV antibiotics. I’m tangoing…

I Want to Quit the Internet

I want to quit the internet. This is something I think about a lot. The more I share, the more I want nothing to do with it at all. Although I’m not on the YouTubes or the Facebooks, I continue to write on Instagram, in columns, and in print.

Confessions from the 10 Percent: Life Without Trikafta

I am one of the 10 percent. The 10 percent cannot take the new, groundbreaking medication that will hopefully help cystic fibrosis (CF) patients for years to come. Some people cannot benefit from Trikafta (elexacaftor/tezacaftor/ivacaftor) because they recently had a transplant. For others, like me and anomalous genotypes, Trikafta…

Temper Tantrums Aren’t on My To-do List

Today I had a meltdown. I don’t like to think of myself as someone who has “meltdowns,” but lately they are happening more and more. It started logically; I was feeling the familiar pains of pseudo-pancreatitis — the pale-poop, swollen-belly, mystery nuisance — which usually means I can’t eat.

Inspiration for Hire: Sick Candidates Only

At this time last week, I was crying. I was crying because I didn’t “want to let them down.” The potentially disappointed party in question was a new company within my professional dance company, aptly titled “Comebacks.” Initially, I wanted Comebacks to be the ultimate “comeback” for former…

What to Do When Everyone Dies

Two of my friends are dead. And I’m scared. Recently, I lost two friends on the same day. One was in love with a dear friend of mine — he has a milder form of cystic fibrosis, and they successfully loved and lived for years. The other I texted nearly…

Sick Food Diaries: A Day In the Life

9 a.m. I should be starting my day with the smoothie bowls that are stocked in my freezer. You can add gluten-free granola and honey to the pre-blended nutrients, but granola doesn’t sit well with me. I ate a protein bar and a banana on the morning of my…

Sorry Not Sorry That I’m Sick

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being sorry. Do you ever feel like all you do is apologize? It’s what I do best, and for that, I’m sorry. My friend Maria said something the other day that stopped me in my tracks: “Disabled and chronically ill people don’t need to…