I am a disabled 32-year-old single mother. I always wanted to go to college, but I had been sick with a mysterious illness since I was born. I was developmentally delayed and could not sit up or crawl and I had to have occupational therapy to be able to walk and run. I would also experience years of excruciating pain well into adulthood. Despite all of this, I was very bright and did will in school. I enrolled in a local University upon graduation. I faced years of adversity, because it seemed like I would get sick about halfway through any semester. I would complete each semester and then be forced to withdraw on the basis of medical leave. These experiences were very difficult for me, but I did not want to give up. This would prove especially true when, after having two children, I was forced to leave their father whose untreated mental illness was making him a dangerous person for my children to be around. Even leaving was a privilege, because had it not been for my parents love and concern for us we would have had to stay in that awful circumstance and who knows what could have happened. I count myself fortunate. Still, my parents are from a working class background, and with only so much child support available to us, I knew I had to create a better life for my children than watching mommy try to hold it together while pursuing odd jobs. I would try to go back to school a few more times, and I would acquire good grades, but I was still having to take medical leaves following the end of each semester. I decided to take another approach, and it took a lot of self-advocacy, but I finally found a diagnosis for myself. I ended up having Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder a disease known for causing Autism Spectrum Disorder, ADHD, heart conditions, and general wear and tear on the joints. Many people would have been devastated, but the medical team I worked with gave me renewed hope. It’s not easy having a rare condition, but I am lucky enough to have very good treatment plans in place Thanks to these incredible people, I even obtained my associate’s degree this past May. So, why does this drive me to do more? First, like any parent, my children need me to support them. Their father is mentally unstable and who knows how long he will be able to support them. I would never speak unwell of him, but I cannot rely on him to support us as his behavior becomes more inconsistent on a daily basis. Secondly, not everyone has gotten the opportunities I have received. Life may be hard, but some people never get their diagnosis. Finally, I am doing what I have always planned on doing. I am paving the road to medical school for myself; this is a dream come true! All of the reasons above leave me excited for the future. I used to feel like I was in a Grimm Fairy Tale, and it seems morbid that I will likely be the eldest student in my graduating class. Even so, I couldn't care less, because I am going to be one of the most dedicated as well. I end this essay with a quote by Lou Gehrig, who even at the end of his story, recounted the moments of serendipity scattered throughout his life and said, "…you have been reading about a bad break. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest [wo]man on the face of the Earth."

I have a special and complicated relationship with math. I was exactly 32 years old when I realized I could do it. Do you think I’m kidding? I’m really not! You see, my story began when I was in first grade, and I cried my eyes out when my math test was returned with an F and a “see me” on it. I don’t think it gets any more embarrassing than not knowing that 8+8= 16 or that 6 and 8 might be different numbers. I was always very intelligent and I maintained good grades for my active participation in class, but by 3rd grade I was angry with math. It was baffling to see my report cards have straight As and one persistent C- or the occasional D. I guess you know what class that was in. So, why do I love math after it betrayed me for less than thirty pieces of silver? The thing is, Math wasn’t the traitor. It was the education system that tells girls we’re not smart enough for math. It’s a staggering statistic built on a multitude of falsities —and the only time I have approved of “lying with statistics” was when they wrote a book about it. Is that enough math cliches for you? The point is, so many girls fall through the cracks and are never taught math because it’s a male discipline and when they are taught math it may amount to nothing if they happen to have a developmental or learning difference like I do. I was 32 when the math started adding up (There I go again!). It was shortly after a neuropsychological clinician told me that I had ADHD, and it was presenting like a learning disability. He told me once I was medicated that it would be highly unlikely that I was would still have mathematical reasoning problems. So, I put them to the test. I took my first ADHD tablet and waited curiously with a pen and paper in my hand. Suddenly, and I kid you not, my brain was at peace and tapped into my recollection of FOIL formulas. I aced every problem and I’ve been hooked on math ever since. So, why do I love math? Because math always sees the reality of the situation. There are no frills and no falsehoods. Not to mention: it can literally fly you to the moon.

My story is the epitome of how women have been underserved and under represented in health care. How many times can a male doctor tell a young lady they are treating that she’s just depressed and should try an antidepressant? Well, if memory serves, 29 is the correct number of antidepressants I was trialed on. I am not sure when they would have called it quits had I not done that myself and finally found a female practitioner who finally took me seriously. I won’t say her real name, but “Crissy” saved my life. I was at my wits end, and all those antidepressants, mood stabilizers, and antipsychotics were not making me well enough to function. I begged her to do something, and she answered me with a resounding yes. I still think about this wonderful woman all the time. She sent me to another wonderful human being who immediately knew I had Autism, ADHD, and generalized anxiety disorder. When I tell you that I had no idea ADHD medicine would transform my life in just one hour I really mean it. It was like the lights turned on. Those lights had not even so much as flickered since I was four years old. I still had aches and pains and had to do a bit more digging, but if it hadn’t been for Crissy…I wouldn’t even have a shovel to pierce the dirt with. In addition to my own experiences the reason I want to be a female doctor is because a female doctor changed my lonely stagnating life sentence to rely on the government and the kindness of others into a success story. She believed me when I said it wasn’t simply depression or even bipolar. She really believed that it was neither. Some day, I hope to believe someone who no one has listened to. I hate that we live in a world where that situation has to exist, but I am so happy to live in a world where it doesn’t have to persist. I want to be the change in the world I envision, and I am actively doing so. I have never cared that the odds are stacked against me. I’m a single mother to two children who came from a low socioeconomic background and who has not only developmental disabilities but also a connective tissue disorder. On top of it all, I hello to caregiver for my quadriplegic father and I am earning a triple certificate in allied health in early 2025. That’s not considering the fact that I am learning horseback riding, the cello, painting, and participating in choir and theatre. I don’t give up and my patients will have an unforgettable advocate. I think I am fairly talented, but I think the thing that outweighs any talent is perseverance and heart. Add that to my womanist philosophy, faith, and desire to build community in these trying times I think it would be a crime if I did NOT become a doctor. Here’s to hoping for many years of good listening skills!

I think being disabled gives me a uniquely compassionate outlook on life. I think that might be even more applicable considering all my illnesses were late diagnoses. I have been seeing doctors since I was 8 years old and even though many of them sympathized none of them could pinpoint anything severe. I was a very bright student from the very beginning of my school career. My parents would brag about me being at the top of my class and I always got rewarded for good grades. Still, I was very different from other children. I was developmentally delayed and I could not speak aloud from the anxiety it caused me. I was diagnosed with a heart murmur when I was four and I would always been in the doctors office with stomach aches, sprains, strong allergic responses that came out of no where, joint pain, and migraines that I thought would make my head explode. Other children were mean to me despite my reputation for being kind and well-behaved. I would cry all of the time and you think that would have hardened my heart, but it didn’t stop me from participating in community service and doing my best to be a good friend to the few I had. I used to be called naive, and I understand why people would believe that but I simply must give people the benefit of the doubt. It’s what I wanted for myself, after all. I would endure endless unproductive doctors appointments and even though I got good grades I felt myself slipping slower then molasses through the cracks of the education system. By college, everyone was sick of my excuses for missing class or for forgetting assignments, but how would anyone believe I needed 16 hours of sleep a day just to feel terrible? I remained silent, but I never stopped being kind. Finally, after 31 years of joking that the epitaph on my headstone would read, “I told you I was sick,” I received the kindness I had hoped would come to me. A doctor believed me. Before I knew it, I had a diagnosis that explained the other diagnoses I would receive along the way. I had a genetic syndrome, and I wasn’t crazy. Several evaluations followed and before I knew it I could function fairly well. I still face aches and pains and fatigue, but at least not I do not feel like I have to give up. I have earned an associates degree and am now pursuing both an undergraduate biomedical degree and a triple certificate in allied healthcare. There’s no time like the present and tomorrow is never promised, am I right? My life experiences have shaped me into a person who cannot give up. These experiences have made me kinder and more willing to listen to others. I don’t know about you, but if I wanted my doctor to have any particular set of character traits it would be those. Too bad my poor patients also have to endure my zany sense of humor in addition to my relentless need to help them up the ladder I once had to climb myself. My advice to anyone who meets me is to be careful what they wish for, because I won’t stop until everyone disabled person gets the same Cinderella glow-up story that I did.

I never wanted an easy life. I only wanted to get my foot in the door. Ever since I can remember I loved science. I spent so many hours on electronic toys that gave me insight about the cosmos to the point that the circuitry blew up and my parents would happily replace it with another educational toy. I used to think about being an astronaut and veg for chemistry kits. I dreamed up all sorts of wild invention. When I was eight years old, my STEM interests shifted when my grandfather became ill with cardiovascular disease and complications of black lung. His condition was dire and I watched my best buddy go from a strong fighter with a can-do attitude turn into a helpless little old man sobbing and saying he would be better off dead with each successive heart surgery. I thought my own heart would stop beating, and I’d pray at night that I could become a doctor fast enough to save him. Unfortunately, my grandfather would succumb to his illness on February 18, 2001. The skies were dark and dreary and my grandmother held me as we both mourned the loss of our family’s rock. It was then I knew that I had no choice but to be a doctor. I would study every day and prepare myself for a good college. I must have looked insane taking 12 very heavy medical texts out of the library every two weeks at only 13 years old. I couldn’t be stopped. Or so I thought. I would enter high school, and suddenly, my own body would experience symptoms that made me afraid for my life. My heart would beat excessively, my body grew weak, and I was sleeping up to 16 hours a day. I went to school and I went to sleep. Somehow, I still pulled high grades out of my hat. Then came college. I got accepted where I wanted to go and I was smart. I understood most of the material, but it grew unimaginably hard because I could not focus. I was constantly dizzy and tired and I felt like something had to be wrong. Aside from “maybe it’s fibromyalgia” or “your heart is a little too fast” there was no help. I was too young for medicine they’d always say. I went through this cycle of completing one semester of classes and then withdrawing from the school. It was devastating and I didn’t feel smart anymore. Still, I could not give up on myself or on my vow to my grandfather’s memory. For years, I continued to make little bits of progress at a time until what felt like a miracle happened. Someone listened to me. This doctor put me on heart medicine. Then she got me psychiatrically evaluated. It sounds crazy, but a lot of my fatigue was being caused by ADHD. I’ll never forget the day I was medicated and for the first time in my life I felt so alive and driven and clearheaded. This new outlook inspired me to self-advocate even more. This year, I found out I had a connective tissue disorder. That would hurt most people, but a diagnosis became my ticket to freedom. I graduated this year with an associate’s and now I’m thriving in my 4-year biology program while getting three allied health certificates. Like grandpa, I was strong even with tears rolling down my face. In a roundabout way, that coal miner helped saved this future doctor’s life. I’ll make you proud, Pap. I promise. May our wonky hearts always beat as one.

First of all, it my friends with mental health struggles that help me—not the other way around. Of course, I do my best to facilitate the growth of other and I believe there is still so much more I need to do. I try to accomplish this by following in my mom’s footsteps. You see, my mom has been on a lifelong journey to reach her dream of working in clinical mental health. She graduated at 62 with a Bachelor’s degree in social work and I’m told she has designed on getting her MSW and LCSW. The biggest thing a case manager mother taught me is, “Link! Them! To! Resources!” And, so, that’s what I do. I have knack for telling when someone is neurodivergent as I have AuDHD (Autism/ADHD). Either that or they tell me about five minutes into the conversation that they have one or the other or both. (I always giggle when I think of how we wear our hearts on our sleeves. I do the same.) The next manner of business is how they wish they could accomplish more despite that. I empathize, because I am a constantly evolving testament to the power of a good referral. I plan to use my studies to be an advocate for health issues in general and while I will most likely become a geneticist I will never forget that people rely on doctors to have a wealth of information and the ability to link them to the right specialist. I will not be one of those people who “doesn’t know” and, if I don’t, I will find out as soon as humanly possible. I believe in treating the whole person. I will make sure to keep a list of kind and highly intelligent specialists in hand. I will also consider the insurance needs of each patient and I will do my best to advocate to these psychiatrists, clinical m psychologists, therapists, and neuropsychologists on the patients’ behalf. When each patient is in my office I will remind them that there is no such thing as “crazy” and that I believe their problems are real. I will treat their pain and treat their trauma and the soul within them that experienced medical gaslighting. Everyone deserves and answer. I will be there to get it. I will do no harm. That is how I will be emotionally supportive in my labcoat.

I have been impacted by so many wonderful people from the LGBTQIA+ community, but I believe the most inspiring was Rosemary Ketchum. I say her name, because her identity and presence is no secret. She was the first openly transgendered woman to run for political office and win—right across from my hometown in the city of Wheeling, WV! My mom and I were in college at the same time she was, and I can still remember her musical performances and natural sense of leadership skills. Years later, the news would report all the way in California (where I had moved) that this amazing woman had made history. I love everything about Rosemary. Her confidence, her poise, and the fact that she reminds me of Princess Di in both looks and personality. Rosemary is a person who never gives up hope and she is a person who lives and breathes for our community. She ran for Mayor, and although I couldn’t vote for her in the town over, I was crossing my fingers and toes as I waited for the results. I was so worried that her heart would break into a thousand pieces, but she bounced back and went right on taking care of our city! Why is all of this impactful to me? It’s not because she’s famous or popular. It’s because she dared to be herself in a state that turned its back on the DNC and voted against Barack Obama. We have been a red state ever since, and it breaks my heart. Still, Rosemary did not give up on her dreams and ambitions and she had enough courage to run for council and she got in! How courageous is that? As a student who graduated from West Virginia Northern Community College just like Rosemary I feel like I have enormous stilettos to fill as a very shy bisexual gender-nonconforming woman. I crave Rosemary’s confidence, but I do not envy it because I am finding my own way in this world. I think that’s what a positive impact is. You don’t just hand someone a fish. You also teach them how to fish and that is what Rosemary did for me. In this trying time of political turmoil I plan to be the person who never gives up on the American dream for freedom for all of us—not just some of us. Just like Rosemary, I am an intersectional feminist and none of us are free until all of us are free! You can bet I will be calling all of my elected officials and voting at every election big or small. I will raise my voice and I will not chicken out. I will stand up for the LGBTQIA+ community, women, POCs, and the disabled. I don’t care how bad it gets—with Rosemary as inspiration I know that I can fight back and succeed even in the darkest of times.

My name is Cassandra Hulderman, and I am a 32-year-old single mother with two children, aged 7 and 9. I aspire to become a genetics specialist, a field that, while not directly related to occupational therapy (OT), plays a crucial role in the chain of care that helps individuals access OT services. Many people with genetic diseases, including those like my children and I have, require occupational therapy due to conditions such as hypermobility spectrum disorder (HSD). Both my children and I have experienced the challenges of joint hypermobility, which not only affects our physical abilities but is also associated with autism spectrum disorder. We struggle with various issues, such as mirroring movements and participating in everyday tasks that others often take for granted. Additionally, I had my own experience with OT after suffering a dog bite, which significantly impaired my ability to use my leg. “She might lose that leg, Mom,” the doctor had announced before I was wheeled in the OR. Fortunately, I came out with two. Still, I needed a “tiny walker” because I couldn’t walk on my own and I had a dropped foot. Thanks to occupational therapy, I regained the use of my leg and foot. My motivation to become a geneticist stems from my personal experiences with genetic illnesses. I am particularly interested in studying HSD and its related condition, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, to improve treatment options for these poorly understood disorders. My journey towards medicine began at a young age, inspired by my grandfather's long illness. I wanted to cure him, but sadly, he passed away when I was just 8 years old, shortly after we lost both of my uncles. This loss makes me wonder if they were also affected by some form of genetic disease. Ultimately, my goal is to help people, and I believe the best way to do that is by entering the medical field to learn more about rare genetic diseases. I want to refer patients to the appropriate professionals for comprehensive treatment, as these conditions often require a multidisciplinary approach, involving OT, physical therapy, speech and language pathology, cardiology, neurology, and more. As a future doctor, I hold the principle of "do no harm" in high regard. I recognize that while dermatology and family medicine are important fields, there are many practitioners in those areas. In contrast, there are only about 2,200 geneticists in the United States, and I feel a calling to help balance that disparity. In summary, my desire to become a doctor is driven by both personal experience and empathy for those around me. I feel destined to help and heal others, and I find great joy in learning about the complexities of genetics. I eagerly look forward to the day when my efforts will translate into meaningful impact in the lives of others.

Paying it forward means “giving back by honoring the generous spirit of another”. I have been helped by many people who have paid it forward. I think the kindest thing anyone has every done to pay it forward to me was being there to get my car out of impound. I was heartbroken, because I found out the city towed my car away because I wasn’t allowed to park in front of my own apartment. I have one car that is out of service and the same person helped me by giving me money to buy the stuff to work on it. I was ashamed to tell them that I couldn’t afford to get it out of the impound, but they told me it was no big deal and they helped me get it out and they also had it towed to a safe location. If they had not done that for me I would have lost my car and all of the money I had put into it. Thanks to their help, I was able to repair the car enough to get it running and sell it to a hobbyist mechanic (they knew it was not in perfect shape) so I could get a more reliable vehicle. I really needed a better car, because, this year, I had someone smash my other car as well and it was so unsafe. I have two small children and on top of all of this I had to quit my job, because I was emotionally devastated because I was told that they discovered what they believed to be more likely the metastasis from an advanced cancer that they could not yet locate. This person babysat my kids during the pet scan, biopsy, and naps I had to endure for my own sanity to remain intact. Nothing was too much to ask—and honestly—I never did ask. You could say paying it forward literally kept me and my children alive. I got a great relief a few months later when I was told that even though they had found a lesion on a precarious part of my rib cage that all of the tests had revealed it to be something more than likely benign and a few months of surveillance later they told me that it was, most definitely, benign. You can’t imagine how happy I was to tell my “angel” the good news. My kids and I celebrated, and I, too, have paid it forward. Several times. Even when times are tough I try to do my best to take care of others. My angel was part of the reason why. The other reason is because I want to show my kids how good it feels to pay it forward and how much we must focus on doing well so others can do well.

I plan to balance my education and commitment to my family doing the most important thing anyone can: asking for help when I need it. Although I am a single mother, I am very lucky to have two amazing parents who help me watch my children. We also live in an amazing community full of activities and experiences that support my two children’s well-being both academically and emotionally. Right now, both of my children are in school so it is easy for me to go to school as well. When their school and activities let out their grandma gets them off of the bus and brings them home. I am fortunate enough to be welcome to stay at my parent’s house, and that’s awesome. What’s even better is my incredible college saw the need for me to have a dorm due to my health concerns and waived my dorm fee. I do not live far away, but sometimes my health gets the better of me, and we live in a climate with a very icy winter so it was absolutely amazing that my college would do that for me. I spend 2-3 nights a week at my dorm (and more in winter), but I never forget about my kids and I often travel down the road when it is safe for me to do so. I have a private dorm with older students and professors next door so I am permitted to bring my kids and use the spare bed. We often play video games and watch TV. We also like to play uno, and I am home every weekend to spend the entire days with them. We like to go to the arcade or take day trips if finances permit it. I am also fortunate to have my family and my ex-husband’s financial help to support my children. I also take on seasonal and short term jobs and door dash when time permits. It’s not always easy making end meets, but we always survive. That’s what keeps me going. I want a better future for my kids, and I want to be independent. I want my children to feel proud of my never-ending hard work and self-discipline. I did not get to finish my school young, but I will finish it. The best part is that with my children by my side, I will have so much fun doing so!

My mental health engulfs every second of my life. You see, I have autism spectrum disorder, ADHD, and generalized anxiety, and I didn’t even know it until I was 32. Does that mean I was too high-functioning to pass for a normal person? Absolutely not. They told me I was everything from majorly depressed to bipolar to having borderline personality disorder. While there is no shame in any of those diseases there is no way to be properly treated for an illness you don’t possess. I was very quiet to the point that I only spoke at home and my attention was harder and harder to maintain. I didn’t just hate math class; I also hated the things I once loved like movies and TV, because they suddenly bored me to death. I did not feel like doing anything or hanging out with my friends, because I was nervous. I do understand how that looked like depression and anxiety, but I think after all the antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications I’ve been on (nearly 20!) that it was likely that this was not my only problem. As for the anti-psychotics? They gave me motion disorders, and I was far more anxious! I lost confidence in everything. The medical community, the education system, and especially myself. Somehow, though, I knew I wasn’t wrong that the doctors were wrong. I was too smart to be this “messed up”. So I just eventually sat my doctor down and looked her right in the eye and begged her for answers. She sent me to neuropsychiatric testing, and I ended up having ADHD and Autism and GAD. It was a great relief, because within hours of taking the medication for my ADHD I could handle my autism and sensory issues so much better! My journey with mental illness and developmental differences has been a hard but meaningful journey for me. It’s taught me to always believe in myself and to always advocate for my own well-being. I am now currently learning how to advocate for others, and my hope is that I can change at least one person’s life. I plan to do that by being a doctor. While I won’t work directly in the field of psychiatry or psychology I will work in the field of genetics to better understand the mechanisms that cause development disorders. For instance, we know that my developmental disorders likely resulted from a genetic condition I have called Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder which is in the same class of disorders as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. A lot about these connective tissue disorders are still unknown, and I want to change that. There are only 2,200 geneticists in the United States and most of them work in cancer genetics which leaves so many rare diseases including HSD and EDS lacking researchers to unravel them. I want to not only fill the role of a researcher, but also encourage more people to take on these roles. Is it an easy career? No. Is it an important one? Absolutely!

My desire to continue my education came from a place of renewed hope. All of my life, I knew I was sick. I had such a hard time in school and it was not because of my ability to achieve a high GPA. I often did so effortlessly, and that is still often the case, because I truly enjoy school and do not find it painful. What really pained me…is, well…pain. I was always in pain growing up. They first called in growing pains. Then they called it “stressed induced migraines”. Then they called it depression. Then they called it fibromyalgia. Then the fibromyalgia came with chronic fatigue syndrome. What never came was treatments that worked. This is not to say I did not follow all the protocols and take the medications as directed. I just knew they did not work! At some point, I had lost my ability to concentrate and function. I gave up on college, and I settled into the role of a housewife and, soon after, a mother. I had two beautiful children whom I thank my lucky stars for every single day. They are wonderful and I would not trade them for the world. Still, though, each pregnancy would cause my body to deteriorate, and I made the decision to have no more children. I was distraught, because my goal had been to have three. I would continue to try and go back to school and I would get good grades one or two classes at a time, but I would be extremely exhausted by the end of a semester and I would stop for a while. One day I was just too sick of nothing going write, and I sat in my doctors office with my own mother beside me and we both begged for counsel. What surprised us was that we got it. I was referred to the specialist who would change my life. Within one hour of taken the correct medication I had so much energy and drive and focus. I was still in quite a bit of pain, but I imagine a lot of it was from the inactivity. Month after month, my weight became healthier and my body became stronger. After 7 months, I took the dive and went back to school. The great news was: This time…I got my associate’s degree! It gave me so much hope and that hope make me a better self-advocate and a better mother! I always loved and cared about my children, but now I was not tired, cranky mommy, but super fun and active mommy! While my health is not perfect it is so much better and every day is a joy for me. So how do I balance it all? A lot of determination and my own wonderful mother’s help. The one person who has never given up on me (besides my children) is my mother. She helps me take care of them, and she always knows when to tell me “it’s time to rest”. Of course, I know when I should, but when your mom tells you something—you tend to listen more.

A loving mother never throws in the towel; she uses it to dab her sweat and tears and get back in the game. That is who I am and who I was raised by. Let me explain, I grew up in a working-class family in rural West Virginia. I have not always had the opportunities everyone else has had, but in every moment I find opportunity. I have been told I have an indomitable spirit and an inner light that refuses to go out. I think that it is at least somewhat impressive for someone who has fought disability and that odd position in life that I can only refer to as “too poor to be fortunate and too fortunate to be poor.” Yes, my life is a study in contrasts or at least that is what my best friend tells me. I have been through a lot of things, but I know others have been through so much more. As I said, I have a disability. I am also a single mother and it is hard to work odd jobs and commit to a biology degree while working on a triple certificate in medical assisting, administrative work, and phlebotomy. Most people ask how I do it. Well, the answer is a lot of laughter and a constant place in my heart for the needs of others. I do not like mentioning exact acts and figures as I am rather modest. I will admit that as long as my kids are fed and we have a rough on our head and a bit of joy to sustain us that I will always reach into my pocket for other people (and animals). I will also help those in need in a heartbeat. I am the warm shoulder and the tender embrace. I am the ear that listens and the one who gives careful advice. I am the one who looks after her mother and father, and I am the one who will nurse an animal back to health. I guess it’s no wonder why I would want to become a doctor. People think that doctors like to mend what is broken, but that’s not true. Doctors vow to do no harm, and the worst kind of harm is to ignore harm being done. When I see someone in pain I want to earn their trust so we can improve the situation together. As I mentioned in my opening, I never give up because I am a mother with an amazing mother as an example. My mother taught me that my situation is never as bad as it could be, and that a someone always has a far more difficult situation. I teach my beautiful children this every day. After all, how can they call me disabled when my I am so strong of heart?

My journey is the epitome of experience with heart disease. I knew what I wanted to be when I grew from the tender age of 7. My grandfather was always in the hospital with coronary artery disease, and I did not understand why heart disease was still a threat in 1999. Little did I know how complex the heart was. Still, that would not deter me. I knew I must become a doctor. I carried my dream with me throughout the rigors of high school honors courses. I was a little too ahead of the game for Anatomy and Physiology I, but I really enjoyed A&P II. Strangely enough, this is when I started feeling ill. My body was suddenly drained of energy, and I found myself feeling exhausted and sick all of the time. My grades declined, but my spirit did not. I got to college and my problems worsened. My 3.75 had decreased to a 2.9. I was just so tired and nothing really made sense the way it used to. I found myself having to take time off, and it just kept getting worse and worse. During one of my absences, I had gotten married and was expecting a beautiful little girl. Her father and I were elated, but I continued to feel sick. We welcomed my baby into the world and all I could do was care for her from my bed side. I sought answers and it took a while, but I did get them. I had inappropriate sinus tachycardia. Still, doctors did not do much to help the problem, because my heart rate was not extremely high. I was given magnesium tablets and told to follow up every six months. It was very hard to keep pushing, but for my dearly departed grandfather and my daughter, I persisted. I became pregnant with my son, and my heart issues got worse. I was in the ER so many times with panic from my tachycardia. I was always so dizzy and sweating bullets by the time I had arrived. They then told me I had POTS, but the cardiologist corrected them and told them it was impossible for “a girl my age to have an old person’s disease.” I was hurt, but I kept going. Several years later, I’d find a doctor to treat me for my fast heart rate. She said, “If nothing else…anyone would have anxiety with a fast pulse.” So, she prescribed me propranolol. It really helped, but now I was more fatigued. It lowered my blood pressure. So, I got really good news. My doctor told me that I could enjoy salty snacks with only positive consequences. So, I did. My body must have been intuitive, because I always had a tendency towards salty foods and drinking extra fluids. Finally, it was assumed that I did have POTS or minimally Orthostatic Hypotension (so they wouldn’t take me off of my medicine should POTS not be the diagnosis.). Fast forward to 2024. I went to the Mayo Clinic and I now understand that my family is prone to heart conditions due to Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder and genetic coronary artery disease. I could say, “Oh woe is me.”, but as an aspiring geneticist I am just happy to have solved the puzzle. Sometimes, it takes longer to teach your goals, but when you do? It’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. Just like my grandpa, I never gave up even though anyone would have understood why I could have. I am proud of that. I hope he is, too.