Life in the Grey – a Column by Bailey Anne Vincent

There are a lot of things I haven’t done. Things the internet says I should. I’ve never announced a pregnancy to overjoyed family members. Instead, I was a junior in college and scared out of my mind. I’d always wanted to be a mom, but I found myself crying on…

“There’s no other way to paint it. I’m in pain. That’s my life. And no one can help me.” That was what I texted my husband after the third day of injustice from my biliary system. For the past few weeks, I’d deluded myself into thinking that what I…

At night I lie awake and I worry about you. I worry if you’ll drive home safely that night. If the ache in your chest is really a ticking time bomb, rather than a proton pump inhibitor problem known by most. I worry because I love, and I love…

My tattoos hold more stories than my scars. In a way, my tattoos are my scars — they’re just the ones I chose. After almost every major medical hurdle, I’ve decompressed through ink. It’s a way of choosing the needles that hurt me, instead of having them forced upon me.

I share a lot online. I share medical ups and downs whenever possible. I share the audiogram roller coaster of going Deaf. I share the ebb and flow of motherhood. I share the stormy tides of body politics in a world that doesn’t take kindly to stomas and scars. It’s…

I am going to explain what it’s like being in this body. But before you read this, you need to know it’s not because I have a “woe is me!” attitude or want condolences or pity. I am lucky to have this body. This body is lucky to have me.

It sucks being sick. This is a fact. But, contrary to popular belief, being sick doesn’t make you a better person. This is also a fact. CF friends are once in a lifetime. (Photo by Bailey Anne Vincent) I can be the most hyperbolic person ever. I…

This is an apology you don’t know I’m writing. The first thing I texted you today was “Nope.” It was in reply to what you texted me at 9:07 a.m.: “Have you seen an ENT yet?” You were gone before I opened my eyes, as our schedule so often trends,…

I am not a whole and complete person. All you have to do is look at my medical chart to know that this is a fact. I have a different doctor for every part of me. I am not an “I” or a “me” — I am the parts of…

Asking for help. It sounds so easy, doesn’t it? In the dance world, however, it’s almost impossible. In the world of healthcare, surprisingly, it’s just as difficult. Years ago, when I was dancing in a small company in Washington, D.C., I expressed worry over a potential injury and asked for…