Holiday to Horror: My Terrifying First Flare-Up
1 in 4 adults in the United States have two or more chronic conditions.
As one of these adults, let me share with you my journey.
Navigating life with multiple chronic conditions can sometimes feel overwhelming, but we are not alone. With millions sharing our challenges, our stories speak volumes. The first time I experienced a flare-up, it caught me completely off guard. Unpredictable and unnerving, flare-ups are something most of us with chronic conditions have to deal with. But despite the difficulties, these experiences also teach us invaluable lessons about resilience. I invite you, not just to read my story, but to share your own. Through our shared narratives, we find understanding and camaraderie. This is more than just an article—it's a conversation. So, join me in exploring life with chronic conditions and let's learn together.
I was exploring the vibrant landscapes of Mexico, with my boyfriend, Corbin. This was our first significant vacation together. I had been vigilant, ensuring to stay hydrated, nourished, and cool despite the sweltering heat and the allure of all-inclusive food and drinks. It was a mystery, then, when the first wave of illness started to roll in.
At dinner, it all hit me at once. "I'm not feeling well," I said. Corbin asked me if we should go, and I agreed. As I walked back to the hotel room, I started to feel like my skin was shaking, its hard to describe the feeling. Almost as if the inside of my body was fighting the outside. Suddenly, everything went black, I collapsed into Corbin's arms. I came to quickly and kept walking, blackness coming in and out of my vision.
We arrived in the room and I immediately lay down on the bed. My whole body starts shaking uncontrollably, almost like having a seizure. I couldn’t think clearly. The dizziness and lightheadedness are agonizing. I was sweating profusely yet feeling freezing cold. My heart raced, my body ached, my head throbbed, and I felt exceedingly nauseous. It was clear that my symptoms were serious.
I rushed to the bathroom and knelt over the toilet. My heart was aching, I’d never felt pain in my heart before. I Looked down and I watched my shirt move in and out with each breath. I was stunned, my heart beat so hard that it physically moved my shirt. I felt terrified it might be a heart attack and told Corbin I need a doctor.
Corbin called for a resort doctor, who examined me. I could barely function but managed to muster up enough strength to speak and explain my symptoms. He suggests that I must be on drugs since there is no other explanation. He argues that if I had been drinking, my blood pressure would be low, not high and mine was skyrocking. Apparently to him the only two options are drinking or drugs. After a heated debate, he reluctantly offers the alternative of going to a hospital that is located far away and reminds me it's late at night. He didn’t sell it well and continued to tell me I should be honest about being on drugs. We kicked him out and called a taxi.
Getting into the taxi was difficult. The driver takes us to a private hospital, considering it the safest option despite being in an unsafe area. I felt even worse during the hour and a half-long drive at midnight. Once we reached the hospital, the taxi driver kindly offered to wait for us. The hospital itself is a concrete block without windows. Inside, the receptionists are protected by glass and steel security bars. They let me in through a mechanically locked cement door, and I entered an overly bright room contrasting from the dark hallway.
The doctor, a petite and sweet woman, believes me when I say it's not drugs. I remember her asking if I had "made a poop today," which made me and Corbin giggle at the phrasing. She checked my vitals and explained that they needed to monitor me overnight, possibly for a couple of days, and provide fluids. Before starting the treatment, she informed us that we have to pay the full amount upfront as per the hospital policy. Which turns out to be over 2 grand. I told her I don't have that kind of money and we were leaving in the morning after tomorrow. As nicely as possible, she explains she won't treat me without payment and wont let me leave without signing a waiver. I signed, stating that I was refusing service against the doctor's recommendations. The stress I felt was beyond belief, not sure what to do next. We left the hospital, and the taxi was still waiting.
The driver was sleeping in his car, which warmed my heart as it couldn't have been easy to find a taxi at this time of night, in such a distant location. We stopped at a gas station to buy Gatorade and any medication my boyfriend can find. We returned to the hotel, and I continued to feel terrible. I feared that my heart would give out, that I might die. Not in an unrealistic or panic-stricken way, but in a logical way considering the likelihood, which didn't seem positive. I'd never been this sick before, and it was clear to me that it wasn't a virus and won't have a quick fix.
The next day, we decided I had to fly home, although it seemed impossible given how horrible the car ride was. Any movement worsened my condition, and a flight will undoubtedly make things even more challenging. However, we couldn't stay there. I was in a foreign country and I couldn't do anything to improve my situation. I had to take the risk of trying to make it home. We packed our bags, headed to the airport and boarded our flight. I pushed through the pain and torment from my condition and finally made it home.
Over the next couple of days, I started to feel better until I returned to normal. I wasn't sure what happened. I was scared it might be something serious and even more terrified that it might happen again. Little did I know that this was the beginning of my journey with autonomic neuropathy, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS), and mast cell activation disorder.
This is just one story, of one person living with a chronic illness. There are countless others like me, each with their own stories of tragedy, pain, resilience, and perseverance. My goal is to inspire others to share their stories as well, in order to raise awareness for our invisible illnesses. Together, we can work towards De-stigmatizing these conditions, increasing awareness, and hopefully, making breakthroughs in medicine for chronic illnesses.
If you have a story you'd like to share and be featured on this blog, please contact me through the contact page.
