Finding Strength and Faith: My Journey with Sickle Cell and Family Support

My mother has always been my number one fan and my biggest supporter. Throughout all of my hospital stays, she has been my advocate, fiercely fighting for me to receive the care I need. She is honestly the backbone of our family, holding us all together with her unwavering strength.

My dad—well, I am definitely “Daddy’s little girl,” and he’ll proudly tell anyone that. It’s funny because he has a bunch of daughters, and we are all his princesses, but I hold the special title as the youngest. My dad is also a backbone of the family in his own way. He rides for me like no other, but he has a thing about hospitals—especially when there’s blood involved. He’ll be the first to head to the waiting room at the sight of an IV, but as soon as the coast is clear, he’s right back by my side, checking in and making sure I’m okay.

I love seeing my mom and dad together. Growing up, I had the blessing of watching them touch hands and pray, always teaching me the importance of faith and unity. They would tell me to “touch and agree,” and when I was struggling with pain, my mom would anoint my forehead with holy oil to help me through it. Words can’t even express how grateful I am for the love and strength they have shown me throughout my life.

Lesley, my sister who is 11 years older than me, became a supporter when I didn’t even know I needed one—if that makes sense. She has always been there, offering support in ways I couldn’t even articulate. As a nurse practitioner, she is the “doctor” of the family, and she knows how to talk to other doctors and navigate the medical world.

Lesley is like the secret weapon that our family keeps close by. Whenever I know I’m not being properly advocated for or when a doctor is clearly showing bias based on the misconceptions surrounding sickle cell, Lesley steps in. When she walks through the door and introduces herself as a nurse practitioner who has worked at some of the most prestigious hospitals, doctors begin to sit up and take notice. Suddenly, a doctor who previously questioned the severity of my pain begins writing the orders for the pain medication I so desperately needed. Lesley’s presence transforms the atmosphere, and her advocacy is a lifeline for me. She is the silent weapon that any sickler would be blessed to have by their side.

Mike, my brother-in-law, is lucky to have found someone like my sister. He married into our unique and dynamic family, and I think it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster ride for him. He's in for the long haul.

After seeing both my and Dana’s experiences with sickle cell, Mike was one of the first to jump up when we started talking about relocating to North Carolina. He couldn’t stand how the healthcare system in Michigan treated sicklers, and he wanted the best care possible for Dana and me. Without hesitation, he was ready to uproot his entire family to ensure that we had access to better healthcare. He wanted to be there to advocate for us, to make sure we were receiving the care we deserved. Now that’s love.

Dana, who is 8 years older than me, is my angel and the middle child. She is also a fellow sickle cell warrior, and she has faced even more challenges with her disability than I have. But we’ve become each other’s support system. Growing up, we often went to our doctor’s appointments together, getting blood transfusions side by side. As a little girl, I was so anxious about getting poked for an IV, and the doctors would always suggest, “Why don’t you watch your big sister do it first?” Watching Dana go through the experience put me at ease, and I’d find the courage to stick my arm out. Even now, we still go through these experiences together, and when I’m afraid, I know I can sit on Dana’s bed and share my thoughts. She understands in a way that no one else can, and it’s a comfort to know that I’m not alone in this journey.

Chance, my “bro-zen”—a mix of brother and cousin—is my best friend and my adventure buddy. We’re the same age, and we’ve shared everything together, from elementary school to prom, from college to moving to North Carolina. We’re even roommates! Even though we each have our own unique way of looking at life, our support for one another has been unwavering. I can’t imagine my life without him by my side, and I know he feels the same.

Then there’s Micah Jr.—my light. Whenever life feels heavy, I just have to look at him to remember that there is so much life left to live. His energy and curiosity remind me of the beauty in the world. And baby Olivia, the newest addition to our family, is a little ray of sunshine. I’m so excited to watch her grow, to see her light shine just like her big brother’s.

Our family’s faith has always been the foundation of our strength, carrying us through some of the darkest times. My mom and dad never stopped praying for me, and their belief in God’s healing power has always been unwavering. My mom is an evangelist at heart, and whenever I faced a crisis, I would tell her, “start the prayer chain.” And I knew that meant our whole church family would soon be praying for me—one call leading to another until our petitions reached all the way up to the gates of heaven. I’ll never forget those visits from my aunts, uncles, and my godfather, who was also my pastor, offering their comfort and prayers when I needed it most.

When I was struggling with pain, my mom taught me to repeat, “By His stripes, we are healed,” and I would say those words like a mantra, over and over, letting them sink into my spirit. Back then, before smartphones, I found solace in playing my gospel CDs—Dottie Peoples, Kirk Franklin, Hezekiah Walker, Israel Houghton, Shirley Caesar, Yolanda Adams, and Donnie McClurkin—on repeat, letting the music wash over me. My brother Chance would often come into my room during those tough times, just sensing when I needed company. He’d lie down next to me, and we’d watch movies together until the pain subsided. Those moments remind me of the power of faith, love, and the unshakeable bond we share as a family.

Looking back, I know I am extremely blessed to have the support system I have when facing challenges with sickle cell. It’s been a journey—a journey of self-discovery, love, self-love, and empowerment. It’s been about figuring out who I am. Every hospital stay, every moment of doubt, and every prayer has taught me that I am not alone. More than that, I’ve learned that I’m here to be a blessing to others, to share my story, and to be a testimony. I can’t stay silent about this journey. Whether you’re a sickle cell warrior like me or Dana, see the world differently like Chance, are a caregiver like Lesley and Mike, a parent like my mom and dad, or a friend—however you fit into the network—we are all connected. And we have the power to lift each other up.

I know I’m doing God’s work, and my family has taught me that strength isn’t just about enduring pain; it’s about knowing when to lean on each other. I’m so grateful for the unique community we’ve built together. Moving to North Carolina brought us a renewed sense of hope and access to better healthcare. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s one we don’t take for granted. This move has opened up new opportunities and a better quality of life, and we’re embracing every bit of it. It’s a powerful reminder that sometimes, taking a giant leap of faith can lead to the greatest blessings. Our journey is far from over, and I’m excited about the future. With my family by my side, I know that more moments of love, faith, and hope are waiting for us—and I can’t wait to share those with you.

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Disclaimer:

The stories, experiences, and information shared on this blog are my personal views and should not be construed as professional advice. This is my personal journey, and it may not be applicable to everyone. Please consult a professional if you are seeking advice on specific health, financial, or legal matters.