Every now and then, someone you love walks through suffering that reshapes not only their life, but the hearts of those close enough to witness it. Calista is one of those people for me.

Hi friends – I’m Caroline, and over the past couple years, the Ambrosias have become our “second family” and dear friends here in North Carolina. The last ten months have given me a front-row seat to one of the best women I know, as she survives a medical crisis that’s proven both relentless and heartbreaking. But not without hope.

For those who have prayed, brought meals, loved this family from near or far, or simply wondered how things have unfolded behind the scenes, I’m here to share more of Calista’s story on the heels of a recent breakthrough in her recovery.

And I’m inviting anyone who feels led to help in supporting her next chapter.

In July of last year, Calista walked into a routine physical therapy appointment for shoulder/ lower neck pain, and during a neck traction procedure, something went terribly wrong. Within days she began experiencing severe neurological symptoms — facial numbness, difficulty walking, loss of function in her arm, slowed speech, breathing and swallowing problems, and debilitating neurological crashes whenever she was upright.

For months she fought to recover. Endless appointments. Scans. Therapies. She was initially on a treatment plan for a traumatic brain injury, working through neuro PT, speech therapy, and occupational therapy to slowly regain pieces of her life — only to suffer a devastating reinjury this February that no one could fully explain.

As her condition worsened, Calista and Mike were pulled further into the exhausting maze of rare-condition care. They searched for specialists across state lines, navigated complex referrals, pursued specialized imaging, and advocated for answers while trying to protect some sense of normalcy for their children. Meanwhile Calista had become almost entirely bedridden, spending up to 95% of her days lying flat just to keep her symptoms manageable.

Now, after nearly a year of fighting for answers, there’s been a turning point.

Calista was recently diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), a rare connective tissue disorder that renders her ligaments unusually vulnerable. That diagnosis led doctors to uncover the true source of her suffering: Craniocervical Instability (CCI) and cervical instability in her upper neck.

This means the ligaments responsible for stabilizing her head and neck have become dangerously overstretched, causing instability that physically, painfully compresses critical structures in her body. When upright, her jugular veins are collapsing, restricting proper drainage from her brain and creating dangerous pressure buildup. The instability also compresses her vagus nerves, helping explain the frightening breathing and swallowing symptoms she’s experienced for a while.

This week in Florida, Calista finally received:

A clear diagnosis.

A clear treatment plan.

Real hope for recovery.

Doctors in Florida believe she is a strong candidate for intensive prolotherapy treatments, a non-surgical approach designed to stabilize and heal the damaged ligaments in her neck. Her prognosis is good, but the road ahead will be grueling. She’ll travel repeatedly between North Carolina and Florida over the next year for approximately 9–12 treatments (which are themselves intense and painful).

If you know Mike and Calista, then you know them to be humble, instinctive givers. They’re the ones who show up first and support freely — far more accustomed to carrying burdens than sharing them. Which is why many of us feel so compelled to come alongside them now.

For those who’ve wanted to help the Ambrosias over these many months (and they’re so grateful), up to now, there hasn’t been a clear pathway for giving. Now is an opportunity to lend meaningful support. Community is meant for these moments, especially on behalf of those who have always lived with a posture of generosity to others.

The full course of treatment is expected to cost almost $80,000 — far beyond what any individual or family should realistically absorb alone. We want to help ease that tremendous burden so the family can focus fully on her recovery.

The funds we’re raising for the Ambrosia family will go directly toward:

As Calista’s friend, I’ll add that this request for support comes from care not only for her physical challenges, but also for the deeper pain this journey has caused. It has altered every aspect of her being. She is a gifted, driven professional and devoted mother who now lives within limits most of us cannot imagine. The length of a bed, a neck brace, and carefully rationed moments upright.

I’ve sat with her there many times, coffees growing cold beside us as conversations wander between fear, grief, faith, laughter, and the strange absurdities that somehow weave themselves into suffering. She’s met devastating setbacks with bravery. She’s loved her husband, Mike. She’s smiled and muscled through events where showing up for Aria and Griff came at physical cost.

While the rest of the world sprints on, Calista has spent months in isolation. A normal morning for her looks like walking just six mailboxes down her street, the edge of what her body can manage before crashing. An afternoon feels like worrying how painful the next upright car ride to an appointment will be. An evening sounds like wondering if breathing issues will keep her awake, and anxious, all night long.

Most of what she carries is invisible. In many ways, the “hiddenness” of this rare, frequently misdiagnosed condition sharpens its suffering. What strikes me most is not only the gravity of Calista’s condition, but the endurance it has required of her hour after hour, day after day, for nearly a year.

Somewhere along the way, Calista began saying a phrase that is now an anchor for her: “I don’t have to be the same me I was before.” There is grief inside those words, but also exceptional courage. A willingness to surrender the life and body she once knew, while still trusting that God is faithfully present in the person she is becoming through all of this.

Many moments in this journey have felt like the ache Mary and Martha carried after the death of their brother, Lazurus, when they said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here…” — the tension of loving God deeply while living inside unanswered questions and prolonged suffering. It’s a story Calista holds close to her now, believing that Christ has stepped into her pain with compassion, weeping with her even before / as He restores her.

I’m moved by her steady faith in this season. Amidst radical uncertainty, she has remained softhearted and trusting. And she is confident that God will not abandon her here.

Will you join me in supporting Calista’s journey to healing -– letting her and Mike know they are not carrying this alone?

On behalf of both their families, thank you for rallying around my dear friend as she begins the next chapter of her recovery. Every donation, prayer, share, and message of encouragement matters.

Thank you for loving this family so well.

With faith and gratitude –

Caroline, on behalf of both the Ambrosia and Heckman families