patient

It was August 2011, two days into the fall semester of my junior year of college at Penn State. I was excited to be surrounded by friends as we ran a booth for a fall fair when I got a phone call from a nurse at my primary care doctor’s office. She sounded concerned, so I quickly tried to weave my way out of the crowd to a quieter environment when I heard her say “are you bleeding right now?!” How does one respond to that kind of question? I replied, “No. And why?” She told me, “You’re extremely anemic.

My professional career for thirty years was with Colonial Williamsburg. I led children, adults, and even a king and queen on tours to explore our colonial history. I retired and shortly after turning 66, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and treated with methotrexate.

After graduating college, most young people are ready to take a break, go to the beach or maybe on a trip to Europe before getting serious again. Not two-time Matthew Debono Scholarship recipient Derek Cope. Derek embarked on a three-week study-abroad trip in June to Tanzania, where he visited hospitals, schools and orphanages to learn how health is delivered in Africa. 

My husband Rick and I knew Jake was not feeling well. He kept denying it and saying he was fine. A bloody nose scared me, and then I remembered how my brother-in-law had them as a child and thought it was hereditary. Then his high school said he had another. He began to ask us if he looked pale. We said that he did. He also was coughing and seemed lethargic. We encouraged him to go to the doctor, but he said he was fine.

My name is Dylan Martin.

It was early April of 2015 when I started getting headaches, weakness and abnormal heart rates simultaneously whenever I exerted myself. Stairs became a nemesis, as I could feel myself about to faint whenever I reached my apartment on the third floor. I thought that now would be a good time to visit the doctor. There I had blood work done and a few hours later they called and told me to go to the ER immediately.  “So…I shouldn’t go hiking right now?” I joked, despite the weakness in my legs.

At the last race of my high school cross country career, I stood on the starting line with one hundred other girls and repeated only one thought - “just finish”. I didn’t think about winning. I didn’t think about beating any records or trying to beat anyone, for that matter. I just wanted to finish. I wanted to look back and know that I did this one thing for me. I wanted to know that I did something that scared me, something that no one expected me to do, and something that I wasn’t even sure I could do. I wanted to power through this race and finish.

In November 2013, I was 22 years-old and going to school part-time for nursing while working as a Certified Nursing Assistant at an assisted living home. I was almost through my first semester of classes when I got a cold. I didn’t think much of it because my girlfriend, Abby, had been sick a few days before. By the end of the week I wasn’t feeling much better. Little pink dots (petechiae) on my arms and legs started to appear.