Help Hold Dani Through This Storm

Help Hold Dani Through This Storm

Hi, I’m Danielle Myers. If we haven’t met, I’m the kind of girl who went skydiving on her honeymoon and loves finding beauty in every tree and flower. I’m goofy, loud, and deeply in love with animals, nature, and life’s little joys. Especially dog kisses, ocean waves, and spontaneous dance parties.

I’ve worked with animals since I was 15, mostly as a dog groomer. Caring for others has always been at the heart of everything I do. After graduating from Trine University with a degree in Communication, I became a Life Enrichment Director at a nursing home, running my own department and creating joy-filled programs for seniors. I never imagined I’d one day need the same mobility aids I recommended to residents… for myself.

But here I am. 29 years old, using a wheelchair most days, navigating a medical journey that flipped my world upside down.

What’s Going On

For years, I ignored symptoms, pain, swelling, numbness, exhaustion, blaming stress or overwork. But something deeper was happening. Over time, I lost the ability to walk or stand without mobility aids.

Now, I can’t take my dog Koah on walks or stand long enough to cook. I’ve created a bedtime routine checklist which involves compression, KT tape, Epsom salt, electrolytes, heating pad, prayer… it’s a whole production. Stairs are impossible, so my husband Nate carries me inside most places. My days revolve around managing symptoms and seeing specialists, physical therapy, chiropractic, massage, labs and more. 4 to 6 appointments a week for over three years at this point.

After years traveling to specialists from UNC (NC) to Cleveland Clinic (OH) to Vanderbilt (TN), I’ve received what I call “puzzle-piece diagnoses.” These include May-Thurner Syndrome, which restricts blood flow in my pelvis and leg, causing swelling and nerve damage; Small Fiber Neuropathy (SFN), a nerve damage that makes my legs feel decades older; and a trio of chronic conditions: Hypermobility Syndrome, Celiac Disease, and Endometriosis which cause inflammation, joint instability, digestive issues, and chronic pelvic pain.

I was also misdiagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis and put on heavy immunosuppressants (Humira), which led to infections, surgery, and lasting immune complications. To make things worse, I lived through three years of mold exposure after moving into our Wilmington home, which further weakened my immune system.

In September 2024, I had to go on medical leave from my job at UNCW University in North Carolina because my health worsened. I lost the job I loved, and with it my financial stability and structure. I’ve been able to keep health insurance temporarily, but that coverage ends in November 2025, risking access to the specialists and treatments that keep me stable.

What It Really Looks Like

I can’t take Koah on walks alone, but friends help — and Koah has his own fan club!

Nate carries me up stairs everywhere — even four steps.

I meditate, stretch, and strengthen daily to calm my nervous system and spirit.

I use a stool just to brush my teeth and cook myself dinner.

I can’t lift my own wheelchair out of the car because it weighs 55 lbs.

I can’t walk barefoot on the beach anymore

I get weird and rude looks because I “shouldn’t” need mobility aids #Invisible_Illness

And sometimes I just laugh at how wild life is — humor is survival.

Through it all, I’m learning to live with intention and trust that God has me in this storm. My job is to stay present, take one breath at a time, and keep doing what I can. Some days that means going to appointments; other days it means just putting one foot in front of the other. I’m learning it’s okay to rest and ask for help.

We moved to Wilmington to be closer to nature, to the ocean, and to build a nourishing life. I’m in a wheelchair now, but I still believe in joy, adventure, and a future worth fighting for.

Why I’m Asking for Help

Since 2021, Nate and I have spent over $35,000 out of pocket on my medical care. We spend $500–$700 monthly on appointments, braces, electrolytes, travel, and pain relief.

Right now:

⚠️ Our HSA is empty

⚠️ I don’t qualify for long-term disability (no “neat” diagnosis)

⚠️ Medical bills are going to collections

⚠️ Credit card debt is piling up

⚠️ We’re choosing what care I can afford

⚠️ And my health insurance will end in November 2025

What This Fund Supports

Your donation will help us:

Access genetic and vascular testing at UNC

Travel to Mayo Clinic and other out-of-state care

Bridge the gap while facing insurance loss and debt

Continue seeing specialists, aquatic therapy, and nervous system support

Afford braces, compression gear, KT tape, and pain tools

Create space for me to focus on healing, not just surviving

Thank You for Being Here

This is the most vulnerable thing I’ve shared. I don’t have all the answers, but I have faith, grit, love, and an incredible community, people like you, helping me carry this weight.

Whether you donate, share, or just read this with an open heart. I truly thank you from the bottom of my heart.. You’re part of this story, and I’m deeply grateful.

With love and hope,

Danielle Myers

Wilmington, NC