I was in the midst of rebranding my life, stepping into a new chapter with purpose and passion. I had become a certified Reiki Practitioner and was well on my way to earning my Reiki Master certification. I had also completed training as a Meditation Teacher and a Kundalini Yoga Instructor. It felt like everything was finally aligning—until my health began to shift in ways I couldn’t ignore.

August 2023 marked the quiet beginning of everything that was to come. I went to our local emergency room, convinced I had bronchitis. After waiting six exhausting hours in the lobby, I finally flagged down a nurse and said, “I’ve been here over six hours—I’d rather go home and die than wait another minute.” The urgency in my voice must have struck a chord, because I was called back almost immediately. The doctor saw me for less than two minutes and gave a rushed diagnosis: “Your hiatal hernia is stable, and you have bronchitis.” My heart skipped a beat. “Wait—what hiatal hernia?” I asked, confused. But just as quickly as it was mentioned, it was dismissed. I didn’t think about it again—until everything changed in early 2024.

By December, what started as bronchitis had progressed into full-blown pneumonia. Months of relentless coughing had taken a toll on my body, and my hiatal hernia had grown significantly. Concerned, my doctor began ordering a series of tests to rule out other conditions. I went through a Pulmonary Function Test, which confirmed I had COPD with asthma. A stress test, CT scans of my chest (both with and without contrast), an echocardiogram, EKG, and extensive bloodwork followed.

Eventually, I was referred to a local gastrointestinal surgeon for the hernia. But after reviewing my case, the surgeon ghosted me completely—because the hernia was, in his words, “too large” for him to handle.

Desperate for answers and still struggling to breathe, I tried another local emergency room and even visited a nurse practitioner—but nothing helped. That’s when I was urged to make the two-hour drive to Vanderbilt Hospital’s emergency department in Nashville, Tennessee. It turned out to be the turning point I didn’t know I needed.

After more chest scans, the doctors immediately recognized the severity of my condition. It was urgent—I needed to see a thoracic surgeon as soon as possible. Miraculously, I was scheduled for an appointment within just two days—something almost unheard of in today’s overwhelmed healthcare system.

My appointment at Vanderbilt left me shaken. The surgeon explained that my hiatal hernia was one of the largest they had ever seen—and unusually located on the right side, rather than the left. Even more alarming, my entire stomach and part of my large intestine had migrated into my chest cavity, compressing my lungs and making it harder and harder to breathe.

Although the consultation was brief, the gravity of what was happening to my body was overwhelming. Unfortunately, while I had finally found someone who could help, the surgery couldn’t be scheduled right away. For the next two months, I was forced to cope with the daily reality of suffocating symptoms, as my stomach continued to suffer damage in a place it was never meant to be.

Eventually, I had no choice but to go on short-term disability. My health had declined too far to continue working—my body simply couldn’t keep up.

Surgery day came and little did I know, it was about to change the direction of my life.