Ten years ago today I was admitted to the hospital with "acute tonsillitis". This was an incorrect diagnosis, and five days and one lung collapse later, they finally correctly diagnosed me with a rare disease called Descending Necrotizing Mediastinitis (I believe just called "Mediastinitis" now for short). After 11 surgeries, 8 weeks in the hospital (5 of which were in ICU), 2 tracheostomies, and lots of drainage tubes later, I was released, thirty pounds lighter and incredibly weak. I had a long road to go even then, losing all my hair and needing to regain my strength.

I still bear the scars of this ordeal - mostly on my skin, some still emotional, though they only get to me once in a while these days. Usually it's surprising and unexpected, as it was a few days ago while watching a television show in which a child was given a tracheostomy (the hole in the throat through which to breathe).

I also have some wonderful memories of this time, believe it or not. My friends and family swooped in and provided an incredible amount of support of the emotional, physical, financial and spiritual variety. Kim, my best friend from college, was at the hospital every day along with my mom, who, thinking her trip would be just a few days long, had only packed 3 outfits for what became a 3-month ordeal. Kim also shaved what was left of my hair one fateful day when I came to visit her. I arrived wearing a bandana to cover the fine whisps of hair that lingered on my scalp. Leaving there bald was strangely liberating, and one of my favorite moments to this day.

My sister was the one who forced me to go to the hospital, which very literally saved my life. Though she lived almost an hour away, she and my brother-in-law came to visit me in the hospital at least every other day, bringing their trademark humor, attempting in vain to spread a rumor that I'd received a babboon heart transplant, making friends with other patients and their families, and creating a lavish mental screenplay of the whole ordeal, complete with casting and camera direction.

I am fortunate to be alive, and now to be growing a baby inside this body that was once given at 50% chance of survival at best, is pretty miraculous. And I am very grateful.