My medical history does not define me…
The girl with the liver transplants. Anorexia. Anxiety. Diabetes. Auto – Immune Hepatitis. It would be fair to say that a good proportion of what makes me, me – are medical conditions.
But that’s all it is. A proportion. It is not the whole of me. These words do not tell you WHO Lucia Mee is.
So, I will.
I am going to turn 20 soon. I don’t feel grown up enough to say that, but hey there it is.
I often find that I think about my life as two separate sections. Life before I got sick, and then everything after that point.
So pre-2007 Lucia was a gymnast, active, bubbly, happy kid. I loved music, I loved school, I loved swimming and I LOVED pasta. To be fair, post 2007 Lucia, not a lot of those things have changed. Still love swimming, love music, very active, I’d say I’m bubbly and happy (slightly crazy and very stupid), don’t love school but I think A Levels will do that to a person (still love learning though), and still LOVE pasta.
But post 2007 Lucia also requires a lot more explanation. In November 2007, I had my first of three liver transplants. I became really sick, really fast and a transplant was my only hope. Birmingham Children’s Hospital and all the staff there worked on me in the most incredibly genuine and caring way, and I owe the fact that there is a post 2007 Lucia at all to them. After they ran extensive tests on my very damaged liver, they diagnosed me with Auto – Immune Hepatitis Type 1.
To cut a very long story short, due to rejection I needed another liver transplant in January 2009, and then due to a serious case of sepsis and 10 days unconscious in Intensive Care, I needed a third liver transplant in September 2015. So, for just over three years, I have been a triple liver transplantee.
Due to the medication, in October 2014 I was diagnosed with insulin dependent diabetes.
After many years of struggling, in August 2014 I was diagnosed with anorexia and anxiety.
I have lived in and out of hospitals for the better part of eleven years now, have had more procedures than I can count, quite possibly millions of blood tests and needles, tubes and various other medical devices stuck in and on me. This will always be a part of my life. My anxiety and eating disorder will always be a part of my life.
A part. Just one part.
There is so much more to me, and to everyone. Your story is never just about one thing. So many things go into making us humans who we are.
I am hard working. I am resilient. I am sarcastic. I am a writer, a swimmer, a reader, campaigner, feminist. I am a small-town Irish girl who wants to travel the world. I am still learning who I am, how to be independent whilst living with multiple medical conditions. I’m figuring out what my future might hold. I’m a sister, a daughter, cousin, best friend and ‘the single friend’. I’m stupid and crazy and a tiny bit reckless. I can take care of myself but probably no one else. I am not a cook. I am not the tidiest of girls. I’m creative and organised in a unique kind of way.
I am a young woman who is figuring out what life looks like, and one part of that life happens to be my medical conditions. It contributes to my story in a big way, but it is not the whole book.
I am so much more than my medical notes.
