Columns

“Is this what I’m going to do forever?” I asked my dad. We were waiting outside a lab that hadn’t received the necessary fax to draw my blood, even though we had called and confirmed with my doctor’s office hours before. I had emailed my primary doctor earlier in the…

When I was in high school, an informational book about cystic fibrosis made its way to me. As I read through it, I found a section on mental health. It stated something along the lines of, “Although CF carries a lot of emotional baggage, depression is not a common comorbidity.”…

To the doctors who didn’t listen to me: You were wrong. I remember the time I arrived in the ER six years ago, a place I mostly refuse to go, and you said, “Go home. You have vertigo.” You were a female, which I thought would work in my favor.

I remember what it felt like to get fired for being sick: that pit in the middle of my belly that caused my mouth to go dry, my voice to shake, and my face to flush with shame. Sitting around a table with multiple bosses, I couldn’t believe what I…

I should’ve died years ago, but I’m too damn competitive. A doctor said I’d cross my high school graduation stage in a wheelchair, toting supplemental oxygen. “Challenge accepted,” I thought. Weeks later, I walked with my head held high and unobstructed by oxygen tubing. When I lost my mind due…

In my last column, I addressed feelings I had about being unable to perform at the same professional caliber as my peers. One of the ways I have mentally adapted is realizing this: The “five-year plan” wasn’t created for the chronically ill. This “five-year” concept, a popular long-term…

A pandemic meets a life-changing medication. It sounds like the beginning of a modern love story. Last year, a film came out about two teenagers with CF who fall in love. If you’ve been even tangentially near the CF community, you’re probably familiar with it. To reclaim…

I am having trouble sleeping. Everywhere we look, it feels like the world is on fire (both figuratively and literally). And if it’s not in flames due to human negligence or greed, it’s certainly engulfed in political firefights. And the worst kind of political opinion is political opinion that isn’t…

I had imagined that everything would move at light speed once I got the call for my lung transplant. Instead, it was a peaceful wait of about 23 hours in the hospital. I pondered what I wanted my “last” meal to be (strawberry yogurt, nachos, rice), tried to be present…

My last column, a letter to my younger self, was written before the pandemic. When the world first began to realize the havoc wreaked by COVID-19, I predicted I would be reading and writing more than ever. The converse ended up being true. Writing (my consolation) and reading…