Amanda Doulos is a digital editor for Love What Matters based in New York City. She will graduate from Binghamton University with a Bachelor of English Literature and Spanish in Spring 2023. She loves staying involved as vice president of the mock trial team and secretary of Spanish Honor Society. In her free time, she loves reading, traveling, and spending time with friends.
“I left the ER with no answers. I began to give voice to the intense pain I experienced daily. ‘Something is very wrong with you!’ I smiled. Finally, someone believed me.”
“I actually felt the needle scrape the bone and went straight to work after. When a coworker called me lazy for not offering her help, I was beyond myself. I posted on Facebook, finally exposing my secret to the world. That was the first step.”
“I drank the way everyone else did. As a sport, a pastime, a rite of passage. I sipped a travel mug full of wine as we pushed the double stroller. I cut the crusts off sandwiches and built block towers with the ghost of a hangover hovering above me.”
“There aren’t words to explain how heartbroken I was. I cried, realizing this isn’t something you can ‘fix’ like a heart. This is a lifestyle set apart from most. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Fear of my own health stopped me from leaving the house, meeting new people, and taking a job. I was only 17 and every day, I thought, ‘Today is my last day.’ I’ll never be the same again.”
“When I tell people, the reply is normally, ‘I know someone who had that and died!’ As you can imagine, it’s incredibly upsetting. Some days, you want to scream.”
“The nurse brought her to me. Tears streamed down my face. ‘This is a happy moment. You are going to love this baby!’ Truer words were never spoken. I can’t thank him enough for saying that.”
“Every winter, I would get a sinus infection and be put on antibiotics. I had no idea what I was putting into my body was fueling my sickness. The pain was so bad. All hope was gone.”
“I know this body that brings me to school and back is mine, but I don’t feel any ownership over it. Cutting off my hair felt like cutting off a leash. I’m starting to see someone I’ve longed to meet face-to-face for a long time.”
“I announced, ‘I’m about to vomit.’ Then I was no longer talking because I had blacked out. ‘Patient is crashing and baby is unstable.’ They flipped me onto all fours. I couldn’t feel my body from the waist down.”
