Awake

Silence. Weightless. I was freely floating through a space void of nothing but endless darkness. Here there were no fear, pain, or thoughts. Here there was just peace. It was like a deep sleep with no dreams. That's what I felt for three days. These days followed my hospitalization after my Vaso-occlusive (crisis) episode previously mentioned in the 'There and Back' blog post. However, as peaceful as this time was, it did not last long. After three days in paradise, I woke up in the ICU (Intensive Care Unit). By 'waking up,' I mean I was slammed into my morbid reality of pain the same way a crash dummy is slammed into a brick wall.

While the pain was not as breathtakingly horrendous as the day I arrived at the ER, it was still enough to make me wish I had not woken up. After the bliss of nothingness, the bombardment of feeling fire coursing through my veins, razor blades slicing through my organs, and the constant pressure on my bones felt maddening to my senses. The consistent pressure on my bones was like nothing I had ever felt before, and no matter the application of the nurses' and doctors' expertise, nothing they did could squelch down the pain. However nerve-wracking the pain, it was still a great relief to wake up and have my family and now husband beside me. While their presence and soothing affection helped with the overwhelming anxiety, it was still mentally debilitating to try and power through the pain that soon became my new reality.

Unfortunately, although many people are experiencing the same incomprehensible pain that I was, many do not have the semblance of the support system I have. In fact, while I have been fortunate enough to have built amazing relationships with nurses, doctors, chaplains, my sister, and of course, family, many have to navigate through this emblematic hell alone and without adequate medical assistance. It is a common misconception that sickle cell disease is a 'black people' disease. It would be more proper to refer to mother nature's attempt at saving humanity from malaria as an ethnic disease.

This is because while a hundred-thousand African Americans will be born with sickle cell in the United States, this disease will affect millions of people worldwide from the middle east, southern Europe, Hispanic and Indian descent. However, this simple fact does not stop the discrimination many African Americans face in the United States while seeking medical assistance due to the many misconceptions about Sicklers (Common reference to people with Sickle Cell Disease).

Often Sicklers are called drug seekers or are told they are faking their pain. Thus, causing many Sickle cell sufferers to be neglected medically and have to face their pain alone. The unfortunate thing about sickle cell, apart from the pain, is that it is a silent disease. It does not show up in any physical form. For some people, it is milder than it is for others, and they may never or rarely experience a pain crisis. This is why sudden death is another added worry for Sicklers. Typically, athletes who do not know they are carriers are at the highest risk of experiencing this. However, every sickle cell disease carrier may eventually experience sudden death in the form of a stroke or heart failure.

While this "hero's" tale seems to hint at a happy ending, it is hard to say, but we are not quite there yet. This is just a positive segway into what is to be a harrowing tale of a girl who put up one heck of a fight in a losing battle. While I will eventually lose, I will be swinging and kicking all the way down. Not because I'm strong or believe that there is a possible alternate ending but to give strength and encouragement to the ones whose story has begun after mine will have long ended.