How Chronic Illness Forged My Path to Healing Others

When I was 18, the world was a canvas waiting for me to paint a future of boundless possibilities, and I was filled with hope and optimism. Life soon threw me a curveball, however. A diagnosis of chronic illness would reshape everything I thought I knew about myself and my future. Uncertainty and daily struggles eventually led me to a journey of self-discovery and resilience. As I navigated the complexities of my new life, I began to understand that my illness was a catalyst for profound personal growth and transformation. This transformation would lead me to a career in occupational therapy, where I learned the importance of genuine connection in health care, a lesson that changed both my life and the lives of many others.

Growing up, I loved listening to music, spending time with friends, and eating at the local frozen yogurt shop. I also spent a lot of time with my family, which was my rock before and during the turbulent times I was about to encounter, providing me with love and support. Sometime before my health took a turn for the worse, I began taking classes at a local community college. I wanted to pursue a career that allowed me to help people, but I first needed to figure out in what capacity. Given that I did not exactly know what my life plan was, things were initially going well. I attended classes, completed assignments, and engaged in my favorite leisure activities.

One morning, however, after waking up and attempting to get up, I collapsed on the floor. I could not feel my legs, and my toes were swollen and painful. After a moment of confusion, I adapted to the pain and shuffled to the bathroom. A hot shower helped me just enough to get the day back on track. As the days passed, more instances of physical weakness and pain occurred. One day, I tried turning the bathtub faucet, which was a little wet, but my hands continued to slip. Eventually, I grabbed a towel and could turn the faucet just enough to get the water running. Tears began to flow from my eyes. I asked myself, “Why is this pain happening every morning?” and “Why am I so exhausted all the time?” I knew the transition to college would be challenging, but why did it feel like I couldn’t keep myself together?

After weeks of pushing through the discomfort, a professor approached me after class because he had noticed that I had fallen asleep at my desk. I realized that something was wrong. I told my parents that day that I had been dealing with severe pain and fatigue. After months of seeing medical specialists and undergoing laboratory tests, I received a diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis. A physician gave me the names of medications that would help with the symptoms but not cure my condition.

The physician referred me to another specialist. I was hopeful when I went to that appointment, but my hope quickly faded. The specialist asked me about my life, goals for my career, and other aspirations. I had always been interested in helping people get healthy, so I mentioned that I was interested in becoming a dentist. He responded, “You may want to think of another career. With your condition, you’d be lucky if you could walk or use your hands.” These few words crushed my dreams. I already had to deal with a debilitating condition, but now my future was ripped away from me as well. Those words made me feel small and insignificant, like my dreams did not matter.

I began to withdraw from spending time with friends, was sleeping a lot, and was embarrassed about weight loss I was experiencing. The conversation with the specialist stuck with me every day, lingering in my mind, especially at night, when I wondered, “Will I really not be able to use my hands the way I want?” “Am I going to have to learn how to use a wheelchair?” The mental toll those words took is indescribable. It wasn’t so much about the pain, fatigue, and joint damage—it was about the loss of hope for a future that once had limitless possibilities.

Through medication trials and lifestyle changes, I could manage my symptoms better. I found that stress had a profound impact on my body and mind. My journey to recovery consisted of acceptance, resilience, and mental wellness. After acclimating to a new routine, I transferred to a university to pursue a degree in health communication. I wanted to build the skills needed to share my story and the stories of others who were also facing chronic illness and disability. In the health communication program, I met many professors who shared stories of how their own health conditions had affected their lives, created barriers to participation in routine daily activities, and influenced care for others with special needs. Each of them related stories of how occupational therapy practitioners (OTPs) had helped bring hope back into their lives as they navigated feelings of depression, anxiety, and isolation. They also shared how others’ words and judgment had affected them, which reminded me of the time when the specialist had told me that I had to think of taking a different career path.

While I was in the health communication program, I researched occupational therapy and immediately knew that this profession was my life’s calling. What I appreciated about occupational therapy was that it is built on the foundation of mental health, wellness, and meaningful activities. Occupational therapy provides evidence-based interventions to individuals across the lifespan to help them engage in everyday tasks—from turning on the bathtub faucet to managing stress due to illness or disability. I wish that someone had referred me to occupational therapy after I had received my diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis. I completed the course requirements for the occupational therapy program, and in 2019, I earned a doctorate in occupational therapy and then joined the profession that has given me a purpose in life.

Every time I encounter a patient and their family, I make sure that I show empathy, mindfulness, and care. I primarily work with children and adolescents who have chronic disabilities. Some of the kids are familiar faces, ready to play in the sensory room, whereas others are teenagers exhausted from long days in school. After seeing patients back-to-back, it’s easy to fall into the cycle of meeting a patient, providing the session, and saying, “See you next time!”

Toward the end of one of my shifts, I was tired and ready to go home; however, I had one more meeting with a patient whom I had not met before. As I greeted the teenage patient and her caregiver, I quickly snapped out of my tiredness. The teenager was among the most energetic and outgoing patients I had ever seen. She reminded me of myself when I was her age—bright, bubbly, and ready to take on the world. Although she had recently endured a severe stroke that affected her ability to complete daily tasks, she had a massive smile on her face. I recognized that smile—it was the same smile I had put on throughout college, and that I sometimes put on even to this day, to show the world that I was okay, even though I wasn’t. Once I sat down with her and her caregiver, I knew what to do. I remembered how important it had been for me that a health care professional used caring words when asking how I was doing physically and mentally.

I asked the patient the standard questions about her medical history, how the stroke occurred, and how it affected her functioning. I then asked, “What is it that you want to be able to do again?” and “How have you been coping with everything?” I went on to explain the scope of occupational therapy and mentioned that we work not only on the physical challenges but also on the mental and social ones, because many adolescent patients experience bullying, isolation, and decreased social engagement because of their illnesses or injuries. She said, “I just want to be happy again and engage in the hobbies I used to enjoy before my stroke.” I told her, “You’re in the right place.” We worked tirelessly on strengthening her body, gaining coping and stress management skills, and regaining the confidence to get back to her hobbies safely. I saw this patient regain a smile she had lost for some time because of a loss of hope.

The essence of my work is not just in the skills and techniques I employ but in the connection and empathy I can offer. As I saw glimmers of hope rekindled in my patient’s eyes, I was reminded of my own journey. My role as an OTP allowed me to transform my personal experiences into a beacon of support for others, guiding them through their struggles. My patient’s gratitude is a testament to the profound impact of providers’ compassion and care on their patients’ well-being. It is not merely about achieving clinical outcomes but about making a difference in someone’s life by listening, sharing their burden, and helping them reclaim their hope. In those moments, I realize that the heart of my work lies in the simple yet profound act of being present and genuinely hearing the needs of those I serve.