Sometimes I feel as though I’ve done all I can do; other times I feel as though I haven’t done anything at all.
In late October/early November of 2014, I became extremely ill and had to be taken to the clinic. There, I was seen by a doctor, and while she was talking, I suddenly because very light headed. Then I had tunnel vision, and everything went black.
I woke up to find myself surrounded by people, all leaning over me, and laying down on the cold, harsh tile floor. I felt a pounding headache, where I had evidently hit my head when I fell of the exam table and crashed onto the floor. I had no recollection of how I had gotten there at the time; terrified, I began to sob. Around me the doctors pleaded “Don’t cry! You’re fine! Everything’s fine!” Instead of feeling reassured, I felt as though they were only trying to comfort themselves rather than me. No one knew what had happened; no one could come up with an explanation.
The paramedics were called and I was wheeled off into the ambulance, and taken to Mount Sanai Hospital. There they tested, poked, and prodded at me, desperate to find answers.
Of course, the results came up inconclusive. The only answer they could provide me was that I was dehydrated, even though I had been drinking my normal amount of fluids. While having and IV hooked up to my arm, I began to pass out again, with the same symptoms of light headedness and tunnel vision ensuing. Quickly, they reclined my body on the uncomfortable, stark white hospital bed, so that my blood could rush back to my heart and brain. Slowly I began to come-to again, still slightly dazed, frustrated, and terrified of what had just happened to me yet again.
Before that day, I have never passed out before. I had been close; many times coming out of a hot shower, running too much, standing too quickly, but never had I actually lost consciousness. I had been injured many times before, all form cheerleading my sophomore year in high school. I was a flier (of course), and had been thrown around carelessly and dropped many times. Within my first few weeks of joining the team, I had been dropped on my head two days in a row. From these experiences, I had gotten my first and second concussions all within the span of two days back-to-back. After this, I was continually dropped, and injured my back, neck, shoulders, tailbone, shins, as well as hips through the many traumatizing falls.
It’s hard, because you love something so much and you want to continue, but it happens to also be the thing that’s the worst for you. I wanted to blame my teammates and my coach for their negligence, and I did. At the time, I was so frustrated and needed to direct it to something, or someone. Now, I realize that I am to be blamed just as much, since I kept going back to something that I knew I needed to walk away from.
When the second season started, I was once again put in the same spot. I was dropped, once again, and had received yet another concussion. This happened a second time that season, and a third as well, though I didn’t say anything since I knew I would not be allowed to cheer or do any other sport again due to my growing number of concussions in such a short span of time. I had many more injuries and problems, and when off season rolled around in the spring, I was relieved to be done.
The next year for my junior year I tried out for the team again. I had made it on the varsity team, and decided that I would try to cheer again. Within the first two weeks, during a tumbling session I landed on my head again, and had to sit out for the rest of practice. I was so embarrassed of my failure, and of myself in general. The next day I showed up for practice bright and early. That practice was the most grueling, tortured, and unforgiving experience of my life. A coach had decided that I was the one to be picked on for the day, and continually threw brutalizing requests and comments at me. My teammates tried to cheer me up, telling me that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but it was still very hard for me that day.
After a few more intense practices not unlike that one, I was emotionally and physically drained, and classes hadn’t even started. I decided after a lot of thinking that I would quit; I just couldn’t take the torture anymore. That ended up being a blessing, and I was much happier with myself after.
Later that year I auditioned for the school’s musical to be a dancer. I had gotten in, and loved the experience. I did get injured again, though, and ended up on crutches for about a week, two weeks prior to the show. During the shows, I also had a set piece fall and hurt my foot, and I even got dropped practicing a basket toss during intermission for the show when they turned out the lights while I was still in the air.
Some of these experiences were told to my doctor in the ER, and they concerned her very much. In the end though, they came to the conclusion that I was just dehydrated, and should follow up with my doctor later and get some rest.
The next day I was taken to my primary care doctors office and they also did many tests on me and decided that dehydration was not the reason why I had been passing out. They tested me to see if I was pregnant or if I had been using drugs which I hadn’t and I was not pregnant because they had been burned before by a patient even though I told them many times that I was not. Of course the tests came up negative and they were still very confused. they had no answers for me so they just sent me home and told me to get some rest and drink lots of water.
Within the next two days I passed out again and then I was taken after another couple of days to the doctors once again. This time my parents drove me to Johns Hopkins medical center in Baltimore. Here I also began to pass out once again and then they filled me up with IV fluids. They tried to stand me up and once again I almost passed out they had to hold me up with on both arms as I was blacking out just so that they could get some test results from the monitors.
This event was absolutely terrifying painful and grueling and my parents were shocked and terrified at this instant change that had happened to me with in the past few minutes. After this they laid me back down and went back to the room to figure out what was wrong with me. when they came back they decided that I had pots or specifically I had dysautonomia. Dysautonomia has to do with the circulation of your blood and unfortunately for me my blood couldn’t circulate well whenever I change positions and would not reach my heart and brain as a normal person’s would. They told me to make a follow-up appointment with the cardiologist there and also with the neurologist due to all of my previous concussions.
The next few weeks I attended both of these appointments and they had given me medication and more insight to what was wrong with me. As it turns out along with my dysautonomia I also had chronic migraines due to family history but also due to the dysautonomia and possibly even my concussions as well.
When I was diagnosed with this I took a very hard, and so did my family. Once again sink into a deep depression after having been depressed all through my middle school life and I just got out of that hole when I came to high school and my sophomore year and now I’d fallen back into it. It was so hard trying to find a way out of the darkness and I just began to withdrawal from all my friends and family as I sat at home alone all day cleaning I was sick but honestly I really just couldn’t bear to walk into class and see everybody living their normal life well here I was struggling with such issues that nobody really had any answers or any ways to solve them. Nobody really and truly understood what was wrong with me not even myself. This made it very hard for me to connect with people even with whom were my closest friends from before.
I was no longer able to dance, one of my loves, and the only reason why I was really happy during the past months previously. Is also played a major role in my deep depression it was very hard for me to give up something that was my only reason to get up in the morning.
Eventually I came back out and I started to move again. I started to live again. Don’t ask me because honestly I cannot tell you how I was able to do it without any help from anyone but myself. But as the days went by I realize I was not OK I tried to believe that I was I acted as though everything was fine that I just had a little bit extra work to do than everyone else in their life but eventually came to realize that it was much much more than that. So many issues from before that I was trying to do with still have not closure from. Now with all this extra disorder shenanigans on top of it I couldn’t figure out what was going on and I begin to lose myself once again. Honestly I didn’t want to fight anymore. I was so done with everything, with everyone, and especially with myself.
Everyone always told me that I was mean, and honestly, I probably was. I was so upset with everything but the whole world that I probably didn’t even realize how much I affected other people with my frustration and anger and sadness. Sometimes I want to be alone, untouched, unbothered. Other times I’m lonely and I want love and affection. The rest of the time I’m numb unable to feel to care or to want to care to know is who or what is or isn’t surrounding me. The latter of these three emotions was honestly my only way to escape but is only way that I survived until now.
Feeling numb was my way to keep moving on in the world cannot take out my anger and frustration, my hatred upon anyone or everyone including myself. A lot of times people would say that I was cool that I couldn’t take a joke that I was too sensitive and I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal that it was just a joke. But honestly I took it hard I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t a big deal but it really did hurt me with every single word that someone spoke in the negative way towards me I died a little bit inside in the piece of me just kept being ripped out by those who walk past me and touch me I’m realizing what they’ve done to me.
People would even say that they hated me but truthfully they could never hate me more than I actually hated myself. I hate how I look, how I talk, how I feel, how I am. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to change it. I always try to, I mean, I honestly truly do try, but still it doesn’t work and I don’t understand how to be the person that I want to be. I was think imagine if world had no color. How plain or how beautiful would we all be? There still be pride prejudice discrimination or would the world be more excepting of one another?