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This is my back. (Courtesy of Bailey Anne Vincent) My back is old. I’m not old … but my back is. Or at least that’s what my radiologist said after reviewing CT scans of a recent myelogram, in which serious degeneration raised cause for alarm. I…

Dear Chronically Ill Professional, You are enough. It’s easy to look around and compare yourself to your peers. Maybe you didn’t get that promotion because you were sitting in doctors’ appointments instead of working overtime. Perhaps you aren’t living that “hustle” lifestyle because you need to slow down and…

Privilege. Everywhere we look, we see the word privilege, and it’s hard not to feel attacked or defensive for what we feel we can’t control, right? Poor me and my white, thin, cisgender body. It really is so hard to be misunderstood! To be clear, that was sarcasm. And to…

I open my eyes, and the walls around me blur like a mirage. I whisper through my post-intubated raw throat: “Did it work?” My nurse replies: “No, they weren’t able to fix the problem.” Preliminary tears well up in my anesthesia-drunken stupor. She must be lying, I think…

I have never liked the term “chronic pain.” Or at least I never used to identify with it. To me, chronic pain was something hashtagged online for those who don’t know why their body is hurting or how to “handle it.” Chronic pain is for people who get reiki and…

Sometimes I want to give up. This is awful to say and even sillier to admit. But it’s something I’ve been repeating more and more lately. Someone recently asked me for “tips on staying mentally tough,” and I wanted to reply, “I’m not.” Not right now, anyway. I constantly feel…

When feeling hurt or sad, I find my escape in rereading the books of my youth. They divert my mind from my woes and remind me that at least I’m not facing Voldemort or a clandestine agency bent on pulverizing civilizations. While scanning for a read in my e-book library,…

In my previous life (pre-double-lung transplant) I was the bravest I’ve ever been. Before my transplant, the most important piece of my identity was bravery. I was brave in the face of death countless times. Post-transplant, my courage level has shifted into fear, anxiety, and reservation. How do we…

Wear a mask for me. The more I see friends post anti-mask passions as if they were a political statement, the more I wonder if they’ve ever met me. It’s not about me, right? Well, in this case, it is. The inability to wear a mask to protect someone like…

As a health writer, I hesitate to cover topics that don’t fit directly into my “brand” because it’s bad business. I’ve cared about human rights for as long as I’ve been a human, but “sticking to my lane” means medicine, motivation, and myopic magnifications of my own fragile frailty (physically…