I came to the United States from the Philippines in June 2016, full of excitement and dreams. I was ready to build a new life, work hard, and create something meaningful. But just six months later, my body began to change. My hair started falling out, I was constantly exhausted, and my joints ached. I thought maybe it was just the strain from working as a cashier at Home Depot. So I kept pushing through, ignoring the signs.
In June 2017, I enrolled in swimming lessons at the YMCA, hoping to take better care of myself. But after just one week, I developed muscle soreness that wouldn’t go away. My hands, feet, and face became swollen, and I ran a low-grade fever. Fear crept in—especially because a cousin of mine had died from kidney disease. I finally went to the doctor.
They suspected issues with my heart, kidneys, or possibly rheumatoid arthritis. While waiting for test results, another cousin mentioned a disease that runs in our family—one that affects only the women. It was lupus. I looked up the symptoms, and everything matched. Deep down, I already knew.
On August 27, 2017, I was officially diagnosed with SLE lupus, mixed connective tissue disorder, and Sjögren’s syndrome. I was devastated. I felt like my life in America had barely begun, and now it was slipping away. I fell into depression. The pain was unbearable. Every morning, I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck—my body stiff, weak, and aching all over.
In 2018, I had my first major flare-up: pericarditis. The high-dose steroids changed my appearance drastically. I gained weight, my face became swollen, and I lost my confidence. I felt unrecognizable, jobless, and broken. I thought I was a burden. I was angry. I was bitter.
But through it all, I held on to my faith in God. Slowly, I began to accept my new reality. I learned how to manage my condition. I started to hope again. God opened doors—I found work as an over-the phone interpreter and returned to Home Depot part-time. Life was moving forward.
Then in April 2022, everything changed again. I became severely short of breath. My heart raced at 125 bpm just sitting down, and 150 bpm if I moved. I couldn’t walk, couldn’t eat, and dropped to 82 lbs. My husband had to help me to the bathroom. One day, he looked at me—so thin, so weak—and rushed me to Stanford Hospital.
The doctors said he brought me just in time. I was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension—a condition I’d never heard of. They told me there was no cure. A social worker came in to help us prepare for what lay ahead. I spent ten days in the hospital, fighting both lupus and this new diagnosis. But I chose to fight. I chose to live. I still had so much to live for—my husband, my family, my friends.
In October 2024, I faced another life-threatening challenge: a blood infection and severe pneumonia. With pulmonary hypertension already compromising my lungs, I truly thought I wouldn’t make it. But I survived. I’m still here.
What I’ve learned is that life is never easy. There are highs and lows. My health is unpredictable. There’s no guarantee of tomorrow. But as long as I’m here, I will keep fighting—not just for myself, but for the people I love. I’m thankful to God for giving me strength. I hold on to my faith, believing that healing will come.
If you’re facing something similar, please don’t lose hope. The same God who is carrying me through every storm can carry you too. You are not alone. Keep fighting. Keep believing. There is purpose in your pain, and there is strength in your story.
About the Author: I’m Rady, 34 years old, born and raised in the Philippines, and now living in Missouri with my husband and our four fur babies. I work as an interpreter and find purpose in helping people feel heard and understood. I’m a believer in Christ, and my faith means everything to me—it’s my source of strength, peace, and hope. My journey hasn’t always been easy, but through it all, God has been faithful.
