K.B.

If you saw me on the street, you would never guess that I lose consciousness at random intervals - would you? 

At one moment, I was standing, and talking to someone standing across from me. Then, I saw a bright flash of green, and nothing. About a minute later, I woke up in a completely different room, on the floor, with about five people standing over me. They asked if I was ok, asked if I was pregnant, another asked if I had eaten today. I felt like my entire body had been run through a paper shredder, and I was covered in sweat. My body was trembling, and the back of my head was pounding. A syncopal episode is a sudden loss of consciousness, or fainting, which is what I experienced that day, about 5 years ago, and I have experienced more since then than I care to count. I get dizzy after random mundane activities such as bending over to pick up a pencil, or getting up from a chair. All of these symptoms combined lead to my doctor diagnosing me with Syncope and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, also known as POTs, a few years ago.

The biggest problem with this diagnosis is living an active lifestyle as a full-time college student - as there aren't always people around me to help when I fall. This paired with the fact that the causes of my syncopal episodes cannot be treated with a single drug or treatment, put me at risk for injuries from falling to the floor or hitting objects around me. There are so many factors that impact the induction of an episode that one treatment or drug can’t prevent them entirely. Everything from the temperature change getting out of a hot shower to increased cortisol levels in response to an upcoming midterm can induce an episode. Another notable aspect of these episodes is their ties with a previous diagnosis of anxiety and trauma related disorders. These disorders can increase the frequency of my episodes due to changes in cortisol, adrenaline, and epinephrine levels. Physical repercussions of a psychological diagnosis are often overlooked when mental health advocates work to spread awareness. Many of us correlate mental health with suicide prevention and self-harm as the main physical dangers of mental health, but there are other invisible issues, such as syncope, that are heavily impacted by mental health. Regardless of diagnosis, the fact that so many ailments, both mental and physical, are imperceptible to the average person passing on the street should illicit pause. Be kind, you don’t know what that person passing by is going through.

Though my diagnoses have impacted my independence, I am not one to sit idly by and wait for something to change. The combination of my conditions make me a candidate for a service dog, which I have now been in the process of receiving for almost two years. A dog for someone with my needs can be trained to anticipate an episode by becoming accustomed to the changes in my body that indicate that I may faint soon, and the dog can then alert me before an episode occurs. This would allow me to move to a safe space or lay down before fainting, and help avoid injury. But why so long a wait? Every single legitimate service dog or guide dog that you see on the street is the product of years of hard work and thousands of dollars of donations and hard earned money by those who needed the dog. Service dogs for my disability cost between $25,000 and $30,000. This process has been long and arduous, since I have been raising the funds and going through the necessary channels entirely on my own through hundreds of emails, a GoFundMe, working part-time, and scholarship applications. 

I’ve worked extremely hard to fund an animal who will drastically change my life. One of my biggest challenges throughout this process has been that many of those who aren’t with me on a daily basis and haven’t seen the affects of my issues, will often question my disabled status. This is something that many disabled people, and service dog handlers especially, face every day. Even members of my own family have found it hard to understand how a dog could possibly be the answer to my “little fainting issue”. Nevertheless, I have never found it more important or possible to feel confident in my ability to advocate for myself than I have over this past year. I know what my body is and isn’t capable of, and I will communicate it to you if I need to. I know what changes I can make in my life to help me be as independent as possible, and I will do so. If I need to advocate for myself, I will, and you should too.

When I was 15 years old, I walked out of a Target with my mom, visibly shaking, sweaty, with a heart rate over 160 beats per minute. Prior to this quick grocery run, nobody knew how intensely anxiety affected all aspects of my life. When my mom saw my trembling hands and the beads of sweat across my face, she had a discussion with me about my worsening symptoms. A few weeks later, I met my pediatric psychiatrist, and began the process of understanding my mental health.

I grew up in a household where walking on eggshells was a daily routine. As my psychiatrist would later tell me, this is not actually a normal or healthy behavior, and feeling safe in your home environment is essential for people of all ages, but especially young people. Additionally, having one or more panic attacks a day wasn’t normal either.