I've told the outline of my story many times. A failing valve, hospice, a clinical trial, a second chance. What I haven't told is the part in the middle, the part that doesn't fit neatly into a sentence, because it isn't really a medical story. It's a waiting story. By the time I entered hospice, my tricuspid valve had already failed. My care team had been watching it happen for years, telling me plainly there was nothing yet available to fix it. That kind of sentence changes
2 days ago4 min read
"If no one else was telling their story, then maybe I needed to tell mine. And maybe, just maybe, that would give others permission to share theirs too."
