Emily Richey is a graduate of Pace University NYC. She has written and edited for multiple online platforms, including Love What Matters. She spends her free time petting stray cats.

Emily Richey is a graduate of Pace University NYC. She has written and edited for multiple online platforms, including Love What Matters. She spends her free time petting stray cats.
“He had been rushed to the ER. I was confused. Dylan was as fit as a fiddle. Something about seeing Dylan morph into a completely different character sent fear and doubt through my body. The agony of waiting was almost unbearable. What if the transplant doesn’t work?”
“I wanted to be ‘normal’ like my friends. I started neglecting my health. As you can imagine, it doesn’t take too long to forget about the nasty finger pricks and injections. I had to skip some because of ‘what people would think.’”
“He said we were still so young and not to worry. My husband and I entered the dark world of empty bank accounts, bruised, battered, and botched up bodies from countless procedures, a home with stained walls from our screams and a carpet soaked in tears. Not being able to conceive children has really taken a toll.”
“I thought I was too young for cancer. Turns out, I wasn’t. I didn’t know how I was going to survive this and be left with a good life after, if I did survive.”
“I looked like a pretzel, but my mom wasn’t able to hold me for hours. Doctors started discussing ‘options.’ They told her I wouldn’t be able to do much. They said I would be better off if my parents decided to sign me over to the state. My mom immediately asked to be transferred.”
“I wasted most of life achieving nothing. There was no dancing on the bar with cleavage showing and crazy, curly hair. I had to find another way to make myself happy, I had nowhere else to look but within myself.”
“I felt stupid because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop. I would spend an hour straightening my shoes, trying to get them ‘just right.’ My dad had to sleep on the floor next to my bed and I had to wear adult diapers. I was left with my self-esteem in shatters. I believed I was a naughty kid.”
“I was always fragile. When I wasn’t sick, I was injuring myself. My skin would turn purple and red with spots, and everything burned to the touch. I was probed with questions and faced with students’ and faculty’s disbelief. ‘You don’t look sick.’ Using the school’s only elevator resulted in harassment.”
“It has been wild to see the rest of the world have this eye-opening experience of being removed from society, isolated, scared of germs, wearing masks and gloves and living in fear of one another and the unknown. I’ve spent a lot of my life in quarantine.”
“I study my kiddos more. I just sit there and watch, observing them. It’s a good thing for life to be lived in the slow lane. I don’t want to forget.”