Emma's Medical Fund
Donation protected
Hi there. My name is Emma. In the picture above, you will see me and my sister, three years ago. (I'm the one on the left, beginning the dive into emo culture. Thanks MCR.)
I created this campaign in the hopes to raise funding for my heart and rib cage surgeries I will be needing, as my family can't afford them anymore, and we are running out of time before the percentage rates will drastically increase. Otherwise, we really wouldn't be able to afford it, and I'd most likely try to live my best without it, even though that time would be short.
At the time of the photo, I was 13. Things were much simpler. I was a little more calm, and life was a little more balanced. Sadly, life doesn't just run smoothly, nor does it choose its victims. Now, after a prolonged amount of time where I have kept myself locked up and silent, I am coming forward with my story, in the hopes to spread my message and to help my family, and to help myself live longer.
Maybe a month after that photo was taken, I went to the doctors to find that I had severe depression, Dissociative Disorder, and chronic anixety. In and out of medicine, I would later come to find Trintellix, previously known as Brintellex. For the longest time, almost two years, my mother and I had to get the medicine in the form of sample bottles, as our insurance was not going to cover it before I tried a different set of medications, which they had conveniently forgotten that I had tried for two months, which caused for extreme sickness. After awhile, my medication was finally covered, and I started to think things were picking up. And then life chuckled and gave me another wonderful disaster.
In addition to that struggle, it was later determined that I had a heart defect that should have been detected when I was younger. This was when I was 15.
As much as I can describe it, there was a hole developing in the back of my heart, that had progressively gotten bigger. In addition, my bone structure from roughly my collar bone down was weakening for "unknown reasons," as the doctors had told me and my mother. I only had maybe a year and a half before my heart would basically disintegrate. The list for available donors and transplants was enough to account for about three years before I would possibly receive a new heart. During this time, my deteriorating condition was leaving me sick on more days than I could account for, missing school, all the while feeling so overwhelmed and suffocated that I often considered suicide as a way out. I didn't want to live anymore, because I was falling behind, and it was no quality of life, despite promising to myself and family that I would begin to "live life, and not just survive it."
Everyone had to start thinking fast, as I was running out of time. But, after multiple hours of waiting and reports, I got probably the greatest piece of news in my life, but with great risk. There were some experimental tests for what was described as a "robot's heart," which mimics the functions of the heart, and could be transplanted like any other heart, but had drastic improvments than other models in the past. Without much hesitation, I took them up on the offer.
In addition to the heart surgery, I would be getting implantations into my ribcage and spine. Basically, they used steel rods as a way to reinforce the bones until I could find a more permanent solution.
In November 2016, I went in for surgery for a full 15 hours, and the operation was successful. Now was the case of recovering, and getting back to school. Walking was pretty difficult, and getting used to the subtle but noticiable differences within my body. Metal detectors were now my enemy (but it was quite humorous when discussing these things with security, as they seemed to have an open mind and understanding.)
Now, things have taken an ugly turn for the worst. A majority of the expenses was going to be covered, as we were told. But, in recent events of health care changes and a rising tension and ignorance towards mental health, we were later informed that the 85% of the medical bill would no longer be covered. This was on March 2nd, my 17th birthday. And suddenly, the already pre-existing guilt I had only got worse, as I realized I was becoming more and more of a burden to my family. My mother had lost her job, and my dad's income was nowhere close to what we needed to cover the expenses. They both tried, and still are, trying their best to cover me and my family, as now, all of our healthcare would be dramatically reduced.
The bill had come to around $100,000 for my surgery. In addition, because my antidepressants would no longer be covered, it would add $375 per month in bills that we could not easily cover.
After (begrudging) help from my aunt, a second job, and multiple more hours, our bills have finally decreased, in extremely rapid succession. But, after losing the second job, and county budget cuts, we are back to where we started.
I am begging, pleading, to make up this money as soon as possible, as I will be going to college within the next year, and I will have to have continual operations roughly every seven months to correct for the deterioration. Simply, my parents cannot afford it, and with two other siblings in the house, this financial restriction is breaking us down. My mental health has reached an all time low, and watching my parents struggle to make ends meet has only added to my self hatred and prayers to be "normal" again, even though I know it's too late.
I am asking you, the delightful person reading this, to donate whatever you can. Every small amount will help me and my family to come back together and to help me live a little bit longer, and that is something that means so much to me, I could not begin to express it in words. If you can't donate anything at this moment, I encourage you to come by again when you can, and to share my story with your friends, or anyone you would like to for that matter.
Throughout this journey, I have had my faith in humanity drop, rise, and then drop again, but something is telling me in my mind that there are still good people out there. Just by getting to the bottom of this page, I would believe that you are one of them.
God bless all of you wonderful individuals, and thank you so very much for your time and your generosity.
I created this campaign in the hopes to raise funding for my heart and rib cage surgeries I will be needing, as my family can't afford them anymore, and we are running out of time before the percentage rates will drastically increase. Otherwise, we really wouldn't be able to afford it, and I'd most likely try to live my best without it, even though that time would be short.
At the time of the photo, I was 13. Things were much simpler. I was a little more calm, and life was a little more balanced. Sadly, life doesn't just run smoothly, nor does it choose its victims. Now, after a prolonged amount of time where I have kept myself locked up and silent, I am coming forward with my story, in the hopes to spread my message and to help my family, and to help myself live longer.
Maybe a month after that photo was taken, I went to the doctors to find that I had severe depression, Dissociative Disorder, and chronic anixety. In and out of medicine, I would later come to find Trintellix, previously known as Brintellex. For the longest time, almost two years, my mother and I had to get the medicine in the form of sample bottles, as our insurance was not going to cover it before I tried a different set of medications, which they had conveniently forgotten that I had tried for two months, which caused for extreme sickness. After awhile, my medication was finally covered, and I started to think things were picking up. And then life chuckled and gave me another wonderful disaster.
In addition to that struggle, it was later determined that I had a heart defect that should have been detected when I was younger. This was when I was 15.
As much as I can describe it, there was a hole developing in the back of my heart, that had progressively gotten bigger. In addition, my bone structure from roughly my collar bone down was weakening for "unknown reasons," as the doctors had told me and my mother. I only had maybe a year and a half before my heart would basically disintegrate. The list for available donors and transplants was enough to account for about three years before I would possibly receive a new heart. During this time, my deteriorating condition was leaving me sick on more days than I could account for, missing school, all the while feeling so overwhelmed and suffocated that I often considered suicide as a way out. I didn't want to live anymore, because I was falling behind, and it was no quality of life, despite promising to myself and family that I would begin to "live life, and not just survive it."
Everyone had to start thinking fast, as I was running out of time. But, after multiple hours of waiting and reports, I got probably the greatest piece of news in my life, but with great risk. There were some experimental tests for what was described as a "robot's heart," which mimics the functions of the heart, and could be transplanted like any other heart, but had drastic improvments than other models in the past. Without much hesitation, I took them up on the offer.
In addition to the heart surgery, I would be getting implantations into my ribcage and spine. Basically, they used steel rods as a way to reinforce the bones until I could find a more permanent solution.
In November 2016, I went in for surgery for a full 15 hours, and the operation was successful. Now was the case of recovering, and getting back to school. Walking was pretty difficult, and getting used to the subtle but noticiable differences within my body. Metal detectors were now my enemy (but it was quite humorous when discussing these things with security, as they seemed to have an open mind and understanding.)
Now, things have taken an ugly turn for the worst. A majority of the expenses was going to be covered, as we were told. But, in recent events of health care changes and a rising tension and ignorance towards mental health, we were later informed that the 85% of the medical bill would no longer be covered. This was on March 2nd, my 17th birthday. And suddenly, the already pre-existing guilt I had only got worse, as I realized I was becoming more and more of a burden to my family. My mother had lost her job, and my dad's income was nowhere close to what we needed to cover the expenses. They both tried, and still are, trying their best to cover me and my family, as now, all of our healthcare would be dramatically reduced.
The bill had come to around $100,000 for my surgery. In addition, because my antidepressants would no longer be covered, it would add $375 per month in bills that we could not easily cover.
After (begrudging) help from my aunt, a second job, and multiple more hours, our bills have finally decreased, in extremely rapid succession. But, after losing the second job, and county budget cuts, we are back to where we started.
I am begging, pleading, to make up this money as soon as possible, as I will be going to college within the next year, and I will have to have continual operations roughly every seven months to correct for the deterioration. Simply, my parents cannot afford it, and with two other siblings in the house, this financial restriction is breaking us down. My mental health has reached an all time low, and watching my parents struggle to make ends meet has only added to my self hatred and prayers to be "normal" again, even though I know it's too late.
I am asking you, the delightful person reading this, to donate whatever you can. Every small amount will help me and my family to come back together and to help me live a little bit longer, and that is something that means so much to me, I could not begin to express it in words. If you can't donate anything at this moment, I encourage you to come by again when you can, and to share my story with your friends, or anyone you would like to for that matter.
Throughout this journey, I have had my faith in humanity drop, rise, and then drop again, but something is telling me in my mind that there are still good people out there. Just by getting to the bottom of this page, I would believe that you are one of them.
God bless all of you wonderful individuals, and thank you so very much for your time and your generosity.
Organizer and beneficiary
Emma Michelle
Organizer
Perris, CA
Kelly Hillig
Beneficiary
