My Peace Corps Experience Left Me With More Than Memories — It Left Me With Medical Debt

As most of you know, I served in the Peace Corps — an experience I described as the most beautiful chaos of my life. The work, the people, and the culture in Peru were incredible. I loved every minute of serving — except, of course, for the constant medical disasters.

I used to joke with my family to keep myself sane, saying things like, “just a hiccup in the road.” But that “hiccup” turned into an ongoing medical saga that’s still haunting me long after I returned home.

Within my first month of service, I got a parasite that sent me straight to the hospital for dehydration. I passed out in a school bathroom, and my friends had to literally carry me out — one on each side because I couldn’t walk or even see straight. At one point, in my feverish delirium, I told them to just leave me on the side of the road because I thought I was done for. (We laugh about it now — kind of.)

From there, things went downhill faster than I could keep up:

• Multiple ER visits, IVs, and what I started calling my “monthly vitamins” — a new round of antibiotics for whatever fresh GI infection decided to show up that month.

• Chronic skin infections, which I still deal with today.

• A dramatic fall in torrential rain, which left me with back pain so severe I needed painkillers and muscle relaxers for months.

• A full-blown mold infestation in my room — covering the window, walls, clothes, dresser, and even my bed. Peace Corps couldn’t help financially, so I paid out of pocket to deep clean everything. I put all my clothes in trash bags to wash, and one of them got thrown away — which led to me searching through the dump for my wardrobe. (Character building, right?)

• A near-death drowning incident in February 2025— I was pulled under by the current and couldn’t swim back, getting slammed into rocks over and over. I genuinely accepted that it might be the end — until a local Peruvian man pulled me out and saved my life. I came out of that one covered in bruises and coughing up half the ocean.

• By August 2025, dehydration struck again. I ended up in the ER for fluids, only to collapse later that same day in a grocery store, completely paralyzed, unable to move or speak, with slurred speech and labored breathing. After waiting 30 minutes for an ambulance that never came, I was told to get to the hospital in a taxi. Once I got there, I was told it was “all in my head.” (It wasn’t.)

When I finally left Peru in September, I thought the nightmare was over. On my flight home, though, I experienced another paralysis episode in the airport — the same terrifying onset of numbness and weakness that forced me to sit down before my body completely gave out. I made it onto the plane only to start violently throwing up for 13+ hours straight. My first day back in the U.S., I went straight from the airport to the ER for IV fluids.

Since then, the medical chaos hasn’t stopped. I’ve been to the ER multiple times for severe back pain — ruled out blood clots, got an MRI, and was diagnosed with a ruptured disk. I now need a $5,000 spinal injection, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll need surgery.

On top of that, I’ve started experiencing mild numbness and tingling in my arms and outer extremities, symptoms that come and go but always remind me that something deeper might still be wrong. My bloodwork — once completely normal before Peace Corps — is now all over the place. I’m being referred to specialists for a possible autoimmune disease and a neurological evaluation to figure out what’s going on with my paralysis and nerve symptoms.

Here’s the kicker: before joining, Peace Corps makes you go through one of the most intense medical screenings possible. You have to be in perfect health — every condition, every lab, documented and reviewed. I had a completely clean bill of health when I left. Now? My labs are abnormal, my spine is damaged, and my body is fighting something unknown.

I filed for workers’ compensation, since all of this happened during service. Despite the extensive medical documentation, the claim was denied for “lack of evidence.” And because I’m no longer an active volunteer, Peace Corps won’t cover any medical costs or follow-ups.

I’ve been trying everything I can — applying to jobs (15+ and counting, all rejections so far), trying to get back on my feet, literally and financially. But even that’s been complicated. I tried to get on my mom’s insurance, but to finalize the coverage, they need verification documents from the Peace Corps. Unfortunately, due to the government shutdown, the specific department that handles that paperwork is currently closed — meaning I can’t get the documentation needed to qualify for health insurance under her plan. So even though I’m technically eligible, I’m stuck in limbo with no coverage and mounting medical bills.

I loved my time in the Peace Corps. I really did. The people, the community, and the work I got to do meant so much to me. But if I had known how much it would destroy my health — and how little support I’d get afterward — I might have thought twice. Honestly, at least if I’d joined the military, they would’ve helped pay for the damage.

Right now, I’m trying to heal, get treatment, and stay hopeful. But the reality is, I need help. If you’ve ever wanted to support a returned volunteer — this is your chance. Any amount helps, even just sharing this post