A few days after that, I completely crashed and ended up spending three weeks in a hospital bed not being able to eat or drink. I was in constant excruciating pain, and I was too weak to properly walk the maybe 10 steps needed to get from my bed to the bathroom. I got out of the hospital the day before Christmas, and the coming months were a long, hard struggle to get, literally, back on my feet. I couldn’t stand up while showering because it was too exhausting. My mood swings were horrible because of the high doses of cortisone I was taking: I once had a meltdown because my mom asked me what kind of juice I’d prefer. If you’ve been there, you know what it’s like. It was hard. It took me another eight months to fully recover from my three-week hospital stay.
The seven years since then have been filled with ups and downs. I’ve tried different medicines, been away from school for months at a time, been screaming from pain. I’ve matured in ways you only do if you’re combating a chronic illness.