My Story
 I never imagined my life would change this way. I was diagnosed with H. Pylori and put on a harsh 14-day treatment plan. By day 10, my body was shutting down. I was vomiting nonstop, shaking, terrified, and exhausted in a way I can’t even put into words. I called my doctor’s office hoping for guidance, and they told me to stop the meds — but nothing improved. Everything just spiraled.

 Desperate and scared, I went to AdventHealth Downtown Orlando ER. I could barely stand. They told me it was “just IBS” and sent me home. The doctor said, “If you keep vomiting, come back.” The very next day, I had no strength left — so I did. Even then, they were preparing to discharge me again. It was like no one truly saw me or the pain I was in. I begged them to look at my abdomen because it was swollen and unbearable. Only after I pushed for answers did they run more tests… and suddenly everything changed. I was admitted and told I had a small bowel obstruction.

 And then came the NG tube. Seven days with a tube forced down my nose. Seven days of choking sensations, panic attacks, and crying. I couldn’t sleep. I felt like I was suffocating. For five of those days, the tube wasn’t even stabilized correctly. One nurse eventually told me the floor I was on didn’t have the right stabilizers — and hearing that while already suffering broke me in a way I’ll never forget.

 I went 10 days without consuming any food — nothing. My body was weak, trembling, empty. I had no strength, no comfort, no relief. There were moments where I genuinely felt like I was being tortured. Moments where I questioned whether I was going to make it out mentally or physically. I kept asking questions because I didn’t feel like my care plan was being clearly explained. I had to advocate for myself over and over, even when I was too weak to talk. It was one of the most traumatic, lonely, terrifying experiences of my life.

 After 11 days, they discharged me. But mentally… I’m still there. I still feel the tube in my throat some nights. I still cry out of nowhere. I still get flashbacks that make my chest tighten. I’m talking to my doctor about anxiety medication and planning to start therapy because this changed me in ways I never saw coming.

 As a hairstylist, I’m struggling to get back to my life. I’m slowly reintroducing food. I’m trying to regain my mobility, my energy, my confidence. I’m healing physically, but emotionally… it’s going to take time. This experience didn’t just hurt me — it reshaped me. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally. And I never want anyone else to endure what I went through.

 If you’re a lawyer who handles emotional distress cases, or if you know someone who does, please reach out. I’m just looking for support, understanding, and a path to make sure no one else suffers like this.