06/07/2026
Tomorrow is the big day. As I look at this cardboard sign I wrote with my own trembling hands, a mixture of paralyzing fear and overwhelming hope takes hold of me. I've been preparing for this moment for months, years perhaps, and now that it's just hours away, it all seems surreal.
I'm here, sitting in this wheelchair that has become my safe space and also my limitation. The cervical collar keeps me stable, but restricts my view of the world, forcing me to look inward. Every detail in this image tells a piece of my story, a fragment of my journey: the patchwork blanket, sewn with so much love by my grandmother, is my refuge, a warm embrace in each square of fabric. The scars and marks on my legs, these medals from past struggles and previous surgeries, and yes, even the diaper, which is part of my vulnerable reality today, all of this is me, raw and honest. There is no shame here, only the truth of my battle.
Tomorrow's surgery is complex. It carries the weight of many expectations. This is to relieve the pressure on my neck, to perhaps give me back a little more freedom, maybe even lessen my dependence on this chair. There are no certainties, only the determination to try and faith in an incredible medical team.
I decided to hold this sign and share this moment not to ask for pity, but to ask for human connection. I know the power of a community, of collective love, of good vibes. Sometimes, in the silence of the night, when the pain is unbearable and the future is uncertain, it is this energy that sustains me. I know that many of you here are with me and truly rooting for me.
So, if you've read this far, if my story has touched you in some way, if you see more than just an image, I only have one humble request: Leave a 'good luck' in the comments. A heart, a word of encouragement, a positive thought. I will read each one before closing my eyes tonight and take them with me to the operating room tomorrow, like armor of love and courage. With gratitude and faith, I move forward. 🙌❤️🙏