The experience that was worst than the 1992 car accident that left me paralyzed.

Yesterday was my 43^rd birthday. I’m thankful to be alive, literally.

I’ve held onto this photo of Zac and I for so long without ever sharing it. I don’t like to think about, yet talk about, the days surrounding this photo because it gives me anxiety.

Being paralyzed from the chest down, I use a wheelchair and rely on caregivers to assist me with basic daily tasks. My respiratory system is weaker than the average healthy persons’ respiratory system.

In 1992, I broke my neck when the car I was in rolled into water and I couldn’t get out. I almost drowned under that water. Thankfully, I survived it. From 1992 to 1996, I had to use a ventilator that was inserted through the middle of my neck because my lungs were so weak. Without it, I would have died.

This photo was taken 3 years ago, after I came down with a bout of pneumonia I almost didn’t recover from. I was in the hospital for weeks, and for several of those days, my lungs were so filled with fluid, I felt like I was drowning. When I would breath in, I had to use every muscle in my chest and stomach to get enough air. You could hear the gargling coming from my lungs. Without oxygen being given to me, my oxygen rate was 87, uncomfortably below the normal range of 95-100. I had been awake for days. Every time I would doze off, my oxygen rate would drop even further.

By this point, I had a cannula inserted into my lungs through my nose so many times that my nose was swollen shut. As a result of my disability, I don’t have full use of my diaphragm muscle to support an effective cough. My chest and abdomen were covered in bruises from medical staff trying to help me cough by utilizing a quad cough. At one point, I was rushed to x-ray because we thought that one of my ribs was possibly broken from all the quad coughs. The doctor rush ordered special respiratory equipment from Seattle to help me cough because my lungs were so full of fluid.

I was very aware of the reality that I wasn’t getting better. I was very aware that respiratory illness is one of the main causes of death for people paralyzed at the level I am. I asked a few people from my church family if they would pray over me.

The days surrounding the day that this picture was taken are easily defined as the scariest moments of my life. Those days in the hospital struggling to breathe were far scarier than the August 20, 1992 day when the car I was in flipped over into water and left me upside down and paralyzed, drowning for just a few minutes. For days, I had to sit with the idea that I could possibly be dying.

I was weak, exhausted, and in in so much pain. I can clearly remember laying in that hospital bed thinking “this is what it feels like when people realize they don’t have the strength to fight anymore.” It wasn’t just a physical experience. It was also an emotional experience. It was an experience of realizing that this could really lead to the end of my life. It was an experience of realizing the very real chance that my daughter could possibly grow up without her mom. There was an incredible respiratory therapist who could see how much pain I was in and how exhausted I was. She kneeled down by my hospital bed, looked me in the eye and said “Teisha, you have got to fight. You cannot give up. I know you are tired, and I know you are hurting. I know you feel like you don’t have the strength to overcome this. I know it feels hopeless, but your daughter needs her mom to keep fighting no matter how much pain you are in and no matter how tired you are.”

I owe her my life. Somehow, she helped me find enough physical strength, determination and hope to keep fighting. Fighting meant continuing to go without sleep so I could concentrate on breathing. Fighting meant shoving that tube up my swollen and bleeding nose again and again to try to clear my lungs. Fighting meant continuing to have people push on my chest and diaphragm muscle regardless of being covered in bruises and feeling like I was continuously getting punched after already being beaten for days. Fighting also meant my family and I advocating even more strongly than we ever have in my life, demanding the highest level of care possible. Advocating for health care is an entirely different lesson from this experience, but I want to encourage everyone to advocate strongly for yourself and for your family members who are receiving medical treatment. I have found that in the world of healthcare, we are sometimes just a patient ID number and a burden to insurance companies.

As the world has been facing COVID-19 over the last several months, these are the memories that are going through my head. I also worry about my 82-year-old mother who is isolating herself across town because she also has a fragile respiratory system. She is a grandma, a mother, an auntie, a friend, a volunteer.

I understand many of you are probably healthy enough to fight this virus. Maybe you are being negatively impacted by the sudden pause in society. I understand that it’s inconveniencing you in many ways. I’m begging you though, please practice strong social distancing.

There are so many of us who will have to fight for every breath in order to continue to be daughters, sons, grandchildren, grandparents, nieces, nephews, parents, aunties, uncles, neighbors, volunteers, colleagues, etc. I have a very real fear that if I contract this virus, that fighting with every ounce of energy in me is not going to be strong enough to get through it. I’m spending much of my time in bed over these last two weeks as we have limited the number of caregivers coming in and out of my house. I miss my mom, I miss my sisters, I miss my caregivers.

Every time one of my caregivers comes into my home, we take the risk of them bringing the virus into my home. They have committed to social distancing and I am so incredibly appreciative because we are able to semi-safely have them in my home to provide a limited amount of help with my caregiving.

For weeks after being discharged from the hospital, I was still physically weak and couldn’t do much. I can’t remember who gave these photos to me. When I came across them a couple of years ago, I vowed to myself that I would use them as a reminder to always make my health a priority in this busy, nonstop world. I vowed I would use the photos as a reminder to cherish the days I have on this earth. Today, I hope these photos will remind you that there are many of us who depend on you for our health and lives.