My story begins when I was just five years old — a time when most children are discovering the world with wide-eyed wonder. But instead of playgrounds and playdates, I found myself facing a battle that would quietly shadow the rest of my life. That year, I was diagnosed with scarlet fever. Though I recovered, something inside me never returned to normal.

In the years that followed, my health became a mystery wrapped in pain. I lived with ongoing stomach issues, persistent discomfort, and severe nausea that refused to be ignored. Doctor after doctor, hospital after hospital — each visit filled with hope for answers that never came. Instead, my symptoms were dismissed, often attributed to childhood anxiety or simple constipation. But deep down, I knew something was profoundly wrong.

In December of 2019, things took a more serious turn. I was admitted to the hospital with a suspected infection in my gallbladder. Surgery confirmed the worst — the organ was not only non-functioning but severely infected. It was removed, and for a brief moment, I felt relief. But within two months, all the pain, all the nausea, all the exhaustion returned — unchanged, unrelenting, and still unexplained.

Then came August 2022 — a moment that changed everything. I was admitted to the hospital once again, this time critically ill. I didn’t know if I would survive. Sixteen days passed in a blur of tests, scans, and unanswered questions. Doctors remained baffled. But one thing did change: I left that hospital with a GJ feeding tube, a device that would become my lifeline. Though we still didn’t know what was causing my body to reject nourishment, this tube provided essential nutrition and a fragile thread of hope.

By March of 2023, I found myself back in the hospital, sicker than ever — rapidly losing weight and struggling to keep anything down. That’s when my gastroenterologist ordered a barium test. For over five hours, he watched carefully as nothing — not even 5 milliliters — left my stomach. That day, I was finally given a name for the invisible enemy I had been fighting for so long: gastroparesis — a chronic condition where the stomach is paralyzed and unable to empty its contents properly.

But that wasn’t all. During that same test, it was discovered that my Superior Mesenteric Artery (SMA) had collapsed. It was a rare complication, but one with a possible solution. I became a candidate for the DJ (Duodenojejunostomy) Bypass, an extremely rare surgical procedure that bypasses the SMA and connects directly to the jejunum. At the University of New Mexico, I became the 27th person to undergo this complex operation.

Following the surgery, I was able to remove my feeding tube and briefly hoped I might begin living life on my own terms — without medical devices, without dependence. But three months later, I became gravely ill once again. My feeding tube was reinserted, and to this day, it remains my primary source of nutrition and, quite literally, the thing that keeps me alive.

For nearly two years now, this tube has sustained me. And still, the puzzle remains incomplete. Despite dozens more tests, bloodwork, ER visits, and specialist consultations, there are no definitive answers. In addition to gastroparesis, I’ve been labeled with chronic nausea, chronic pain, and now face the possibility of autoimmune disease, including potential lupus and fibromyalgia — yet all results remain inconclusive. I live in a constant state of uncertainty, carrying diagnoses that seem more like symptoms than explanations.

Through it all, one dream has remained constant: the hope of being seen at the Mayo Clinic. For years, that dream was out of reach. Insurance refused to cover it, and the door remained closed. But then, a miracle happened. My surgeon referred me to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, and within a single week, I was accepted. Appointments were scheduled immediately — a moment I can only describe as a blessing from God.

This journey has not been easy. It has been filled with pain, fear, isolation, and waiting. But through every setback, I have held fast to faith. I’ve trusted God every step of the way — even when the path was dark, even when the answers didn’t come.

There is still more road ahead, and many unknowns remain. But I walk it now with a renewed sense of purpose — and a deep gratitude for the strength I’ve gained, the care I’ve received, and the unwavering hope that somehow, someday, healing will come.