
Nobody prepares you for the worst times in your life, but we’ve all had them.
Some are short-term and manageable.
Others are life-altering.
The night I held my son’s hand as the ambulance sped to the local children’s hospital was one of them. The young EMT who sat beside us did his best to ease my concern, but I couldn’t silence the thoughts running through my head. I knew something was terribly wrong.
I never imagined that night would turn into a 7-year battle that would test me in every way possible. It would also lead me to find a community of support that would become the backbone of our healing journey.
From the first night in the emergency room and for eighteen months after, we encountered physicians who lacked empathy, questioned symptoms, and dismissed an ill child because they didn’t understand what they saw.
Because they didn’t know better.
During that time, I realized it was much easier for them to blame others than admit they didn’t have the a…
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