My name is David Chadwick. I’m a Navy veteran and a full-time worker just trying to hold my life together while my body stops playing by the rules.

I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I’ve quit caffeine. My diet is clean and intentionally balanced to support heart health, gut health, and long-term resilience. I do the research. I show up to every appointment. I do what I’m told, and I ask questions when it doesn't make sense. I’m not someone who neglects their body. That’s what makes this even harder.

My heart has developed an erratic rhythm that no one fully understands yet. I’ve had real pauses. I’ve felt pounding so strong it echoes in my head, arms, and sometimes my entire body. I’ve had blackout moments. I’ve had a seizure. There are nights I sleep upright in a recliner with a motion-activated camera pointed at me, not because I’m paranoid, but because I’ve already had episodes that could have ended worse.

I’m now being tested for neurological dysfunction, not just cardiology. I’ve undergone MRIs, with more ordered. EMG and nerve conduction tests are next. The doctors suspect there may be issues involving autonomic regulation or inflammation in my nervous system, but no one has clear answers yet. What I do know is that this is getting worse, not better.

Some of these procedures are partially covered by insurance. Some aren’t. And none of them are affordable when you’re already on edge trying to keep your job, your stability, and your sanity while managing these symptoms.

I’m still working. I’m still standing. But I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep that up if this continues. I don’t want to be in this position, no one does, but I’ve hit the point where asking is the only option left before falling through the cracks completely.

If you know me, you know I’m not someone who asks easily. I take pride in being capable. But right now, I need help. Even a small donation could make the difference between getting another test approved this month or pushing it down the road while symptoms get worse.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for even considering helping. And thank you, most of all, for seeing me as someone who’s still trying, even when everything in his body keeps telling him to give up.