Ironically, the biggest part of it all started in my favorite class - biology. I had a slight itch on my back and stomach, but I had so many allergies I figured that I'd switched up laundry detergent when I washed my shirt. Then my lab partner and friend, Hoang*, turned to me and went pale. The rash was spreading to my neck in large splotches with angry-looking red centers. I'd had a slight fever a few days ago, but I powered through it.

My teacher looked at my back and neck and sent me to the school nurse. The nurse looked puzzled, and said that it was probably a bad allergic reaction or maybe a virus of some sort. Either way, I didn't need to be at school that day.

My memory goes fuzzy around this time, a testament to the illness. I remember the rash spreading to my whole body and my feet swelling so much that walking became terribly painful. I remember having Brad*, my boyfriend at the time, having to help me walk a few places. The specifics are completely jumbled, but eventually I was covered with the rash, severely swollen, could barely walk (I used crutches for the necessary times), and felt completely ill. Allergy medicine didn't ease any of it, so I let go of the allergy attack hypothesis and went to a doctor.

I went to a local urgent care clinic near my house that had a doctor that I trusted and saw many times. After determining that I didn't have strep throat, the flu, and other common illnesses, he decided to do several blood tests. Because I spent a lot of my summer in my aunt's house in the country, he added a panel of tick diseases to the list. My memory flashed back to the summer, when I had only one tick bite, so surely not that? The tests came back positive for mono ( "the kissing disease"), but a lot of the others would take more time. I was given a steroid shot and medication to treat the symptoms while we waited for the other tests.

The rash got a little bit better; just enough that I was able to go back to school. I still didn't feel great, but I wanted to go to school and pushed through. It didn't take long for the swelling to come back again - rapidly. One morning, it was bearable, but by the afternoon, I was back to Brad helping me walk even short distances. One September afternoon, Iimped to my front door with the help of Brad (I lived close to the school, so we carpooled) when my mom called.

I could hear the fear in her voice as she told me that she was getting antibiotics for me from the pharmacy - I tested positive for Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. It was an older infection as well. I'd never heard of it before then, and turned to Brad to tell him the news.

"Is that very bad?" I asked, but his expression said it all. I managed to get to a computer to research (as any good science nerd does). It definitely is bad.

Soon after, my rash (it never fully cleared up), deepened and my symptoms got worse. The combination of tick fever and mono caused severe swelling in my liver and spleen. It wasn't long before my liver enzymes started to become abnormal and flirted with failure. I was on strict orders not to lift much and got a rolling backpack for days when I was able to get out of bed. The dizziness and other symptoms made stairs next to impossible, but definitely unsafe, so my parents moved my mattress downstairs in the living room or dining room for months.

I often had fevers, pain, and vomiting. I probably lived on ginger foods and ibuprofen for that year. I missed a lot of high school to this disease and started feeling isolated from my peers. While others went to concerts, dances, and school events, I battled high fevers and tried not to vomit everything I ate.

I'd been dating Brad for a couple of years at that point. We had been friends a while and had a lot of mutual friends. He was known as a very timid person, but soon noticed that I wasn't able to fight back against him in this state. Gradually, the relationship soured into toxicity. The disease was already isolating me, which was less work for him. Particularly when I wasn't able to do much outside of my house (notably go to church with him), he would go hours putting me down and telling me how bad of a person I was; usually hellbound. I didn't have the energy to defend myself, and my inability to go to church services with him was often used as a justification.

Within the emotional and physical isolation, I found ironic comfort and peace by learning all I could about the science behind the bacteria in my blood that completely changed my life. The disease is rare, and I often had to be my own advocate for my needs. Thus, a lot of my free time was spent pouring over books and research on the disease - its effects, the bacteria that caused it and similar bacteria, the mechanisms that caused the symptoms, anything that I could find. I'd always loved science, but I think Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever made me fall in love with microbiology.

I leaned on my newfound love of microbiology and music (choir, flute, and tin whistle) to escape from the pain of the disease and the heartbreak of toxic relationships and worked hard to ensure that my academics wouldn't suffer from this. It often left me feeling stressed and burned out; somehow I maintained my straight As in advanced classes. It was too painful to think about the present, so I focused my mind on the future. In this future, I beat the disease, went to college to become a microbiologist, and had left all of the toxicity behind. I kept focusing on my goals and held out hope for the future I wanted.

Little did I know, there were even harder fights in my future. But, I won the battle of my high school years and was able to go to college on a full academic scholarship. I still haven't been able to achieve the future that I dream of; but I still hold out hope for it.

I've already beat Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and a brain tumor; I should be able to beat anything, right?