🌱 Survival Against All Odds

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This is not where the damage is documented —
this is where the survival is honored.

The Rod of Asclepius represents healing, clarity, and the pursuit of what is right.
It stands in opposition to the chaos and deceit exposed on the other side of this site.

Here, we tell the truth about what Nicole endured — and more importantly, how she endured it.
We offer tools, templates, and proof that self-advocacy can still matter, even in a system designed to silence it.

This page is for the fighters.
For the ones who’ve been ignored, mislabeled, and pushed aside.
For the caregivers drowning in confusion.
For the patients who feel like the only ones paying attention.
And for anyone who ever dared to ask, “Why won’t they help me?”

This is not where the story ends.
This is where you take it back.

Not because of medical intervention — but in spite of it.
Nicole was not healed by the system. She survived it.

She lived through drug-induced liver injury, worsened by starvation protocols given without understanding her unique physiology.
She endured a botched ERCP, an improperly placed stent, and vomited bile daily for over a year.
She walked through hepatic encephalopathy, near-coma, and days where her body barely clung to life.
She was misdiagnosed, mislabeled, dismissed — shuttled between specialties who refused to connect the dots, even when she brought them the pen.

And still, she lived.

Today, she wakes with pain in her chest, swelling in her limbs, and an untreated adrenal tumor that has grown silently for nearly six years.
Her mitral valve is narrowing. Her joints pop, her bones ache. She battles fatigue and malabsorption, inflammation and instability.
And yet —

She grounds herself in the garden, feeling the earth beneath her bare feet.
She practices yoga and meditation, focusing her breath, centering her mind.
She follows a regimen of gentle strength and mobility exercises, designed not for vanity — but to preserve the independence others would have stripped away.

She cooks. She parents. She advocates.
Not because she was rescued — but because she refused to be erased.

Nicole was not saved by the medical system.
She survived what it did to her.
And that is what makes her survival so sacred.

I didn’t ask for this.

I didn’t want to become the guy who knows how to read MRCP reports or calculate aldosterone-to-renin ratios. I didn’t want to know the difference between hepatic encephalopathy and major depressive disorder. I didn’t want to chase down doctors, labs, state boards, or medical record discrepancies.

But when the system starts writing someone off — someone you love — you either look away like they did, or you step into the fire.

So I did.

I learned the language they speak because I needed to speak louder. I started taking notes when they stopped. I remembered what they forgot. I put together the pieces they scattered. I didn’t do it because I’m special. I did it because she matters, and no one else would fight for her.

This is what it means to be an advocate when the system fails:
You become their memory, their voice, and sometimes their only line of defense.

I don’t have credentials. I have receipts.
And I will carry this burden until Nicole gets the care she deserves — or until we burn the whole damn denial machine down trying.

You are not powerless.

That’s what they want you to believe — that if a doctor dismisses you, that’s the end of the story. That if a test comes back "normal," your pain must be in your head. That if the records don’t say it happened, it didn’t.

They’re wrong. And Nicole is living proof.

She didn’t have a medical degree. She didn’t have a legal team. She had a gut feeling that something was wrong — and the stubbornness to keep asking questions and documented EVERYTHING. She paid a price for it, yes. But she also uncovered the truth. And now, you can use her fight to fuel your own.

Use these tools.
Use her story.
And when the system tries to gaslight you — make them explain every decision.
Force them to document what they try to dismiss.
Overwhelm the machine with records requests, second opinions, symptom logs, annotated test results, and sharp questions.

You don’t need permission to advocate for yourself.
You just need the will to keep showing up — and the receipts to back it.

 This section is for the fighters. For the notetakers. For the family member sitting in the parking lot Googling lab results. It’s the start of your own weaponized clarity. 

We’re not doctors.
We’re not lawyers.
We’re people who got tired of being lied to, ignored, and left to figure it out ourselves.

The tools, questions, and strategies shared here are based on lived experience, hard-won research, and the relentless pursuit of truth — not medical or legal certification.

Use your judgment. Use your critical thinking. Don’t blindly follow anyone — especially not us.

And if something doesn’t work, or your doctor doesn’t like it, don’t blame the people who built this out of desperation. Blame the system that made this necessary in the first place.

• "Can you show me the differential you're using to rule this out?"
   
• "Are you documenting my symptoms or just your interpretation of them?"
   
• "Are any of the medications you’re prescribing known to cause liver damage?"
   
• "Can we discuss why labs were (or weren’t) ordered?"
   

These questions aren’t disrespectful. They’re survival.

 📋 Click here for the Doctor Visit Toolkit – prep tips, questions, and survival strategies.
→ Doctor Visit Toolkit