I was thirteen years old when everything I knew to be true both slowly and suddenly changed. What began as one day in pain, one doctor in a lab coat, and one neck brace promising cure, soon became years – of misdiagnoses, of missed weeks of school, of erasure and invisibility in the spaces that vowed care over my body and mind. At sixteen, I was fortunate to have a conclusive diagnosis after three years of searching: Ankylosing Spondylitis. Even ...
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2020