Three years ago, I was a healthy, active 39-year-old woman who was excited about the future.

I was moving in with my boyfriend, building a new life with my partner, raising my son, and working two jobs I loved. I had every reason to believe I was entering a really exciting chapter of my life.

Then everything changed.

What began with sudden, frightening seizure-like episodes eventually became a three-year medical journey to understand why my body and my ability to function were changing so dramatically.

I went from doctor to doctor and specialty to specialty. I saw neurology, hematology, endocrinology, cardiology and other specialists. I underwent extensive testing, treatments, a bone marrow biopsy and multiple procedures while continuing to develop new and increasingly debilitating symptoms.

At one point, my blood counts were high enough that I underwent three treatments and had more than a liter and a half of blood removed through therapeutic phlebotomy while hematology investigated possible bone marrow disease.

But the symptoms continued.

The fatigue became overwhelming. It wasn't ordinary tiredness. It felt like I was walking through mud just trying to get through the day.

My memory and ability to think clearly changed. I experienced confusion and disorientation. I developed severe insomnia, anxiety, bone pain and profound physical exhaustion.

I became so short of breath that even sitting with my son at night and reading the Bible together could leave me struggling to catch my breath.

Going up and down the stairs became difficult. Cleaning my home and keeping up with normal household responsibilities had to take a back seat because I simply didn't have the physical capacity anymore.

The woman who had once been active and constantly moving was becoming someone who had to carefully consider whether she had enough energy to complete ordinary tasks.

My cardiovascular health changed as well. I developed high blood pressure and other cardiovascular symptoms that I had never experienced before. My cardiologist found left ventricular dysfunction and attributed it to the significant physical deconditioning that occurred as my ability to function declined.

And the consequences weren't just physical.

Over these three years, this illness has taken jobs from me. I have had to step away from work and close businesses I had worked hard to build. It has affected my independence, my finances, my relationships, my ability to care for my home, and so many of the things that made me feel like myself.

As a woman, I also experienced another painful part of this journey: being told that many of my symptoms could be explained by stress, anxiety or PTSD. I understood why those possibilities were considered, and I was willing to explore them, but I knew something physical was happening in my body. The more my symptoms progressed, the more frustrating it became to feel that my physical symptoms were being interpreted through a psychological lens rather than continuing to search for an underlying cause.

I now understand how important it is for patients—particularly women with complex or unexplained symptoms—to be able to say, “Something is wrong with my body,” and have that concern taken seriously even when anxiety, trauma or other psychological factors are also present.

I kept searching for answers because I knew something was wrong.

Eventually, we began putting more of the pieces together around my parathyroid and PTH levels.

I was diagnosed with normocalcemic primary hyperparathyroidism by Dr. Larian, a parathyroid specialist in California. Unlike the more commonly recognized form of the disease, normocalcemic primary hyperparathyroidism can occur when calcium remains within the normal range while PTH remains persistently elevated after other causes have been excluded. Imaging has also identified a parathyroid abnormality.

I was scheduled for surgery here in Massachusetts.

After three years of searching, I finally thought I had reached the point where we could treat the underlying problem.

Then my surgery was cancelled.

The surgeons collectively decided that they did not believe I met their criteria for hyperparathyroidism because my calcium is normal. This was devastating—not only because I had spent so much time preparing for surgery, but because I suddenly found myself having to fight for answers all over again.

I continued seeking expert opinions.

Dr. Larian had reviewed my case a few months back, diagnosed me with normocalcemic primary hyperparathyroidism, and was willing to perform the surgery.  I reached out to him and I now have a surgical date being finalized in California.

After three years of searching, I finally feel like we are putting the pieces together and that there is a treatment available for the underlying disease.

But there is another obstacle I never expected:

I cannot afford it on my own.

The surgery is completely out of pocket.

My confirmed costs currently include:

• Dr. Larian's surgical fee: $15,000
• Surgical center: $5,000
• Anesthesia: $1,200
• Airfare: approximately $1,500 round trip
• Hotel and transportation: additional
• Pathology: billed after surgery

That is already approximately $22,700 in known expenses, before lodging, transportation and pathology.

The surgeon's fee is required approximately two weeks before surgery, so I am trying to raise these funds quickly enough to make the surgery possible. As of right now I'm scheduled for September 16th however it may be moved up sooner. 

I never imagined I would be asking people for financial help.

I have always been the person who figures things out. I work. I take care of my family. I find solutions. Asking for help feels incredibly vulnerable, especially after losing so much of my financial independence because of my health.

But when I shared that my surgery had been cancelled, people began reaching out and asking, “How can we help?” People have already asked where they can donate.

So I am learning to let people help me.

I have been told by my specialist, and have read countless experiences from people who have undergone parathyroid surgery, that successful treatment can bring significant improvement in symptoms. Many people describe the change as profound and sometimes surprisingly immediate, including improvements in fatigue, brain fog, sleep, anxiety, physical functioning and overall quality of life.

I know everyone's experience is different, and I cannot promise exactly what surgery will change for me.

But I have hope.

I hope to wake up one day and feel like the woman I was before all of this.

I want to have the energy to work again. I want to rebuild my businesses. I want to clean my house without having to calculate whether I have enough energy left afterward. I want to walk up the stairs without feeling like I've run a marathon. I want to read with my son at night without becoming short of breath. I want to think clearly and trust my memory again. I want to sleep. I want to feel present in my own life.

And more than anything, I want to be able to look back at the 39-year-old woman who was so excited about her future and know that she wasn't gone—she was just sick.

For three years, I have been fighting to understand what is happening to me.

Now I'm fighting for the chance to do something about it.

I can finally see a path toward getting pieces of my life back, but I cannot afford to walk that path alone.

If you are able to donate, share this fundraiser, or simply keep me in your thoughts, I will be incredibly grateful.

Thank you for helping me take this next step toward getting my life back. ❤️