High School

High school. Just thinking about high school gives me a headache. Don't get me wrong-- I definitely had my fair share of amazing times in high school, but I'll stick to the health-related side of things of my high school career. Four years of my life will definitely be hard to fit into one blog post, but I'll try my best to stick right to the point.

I'd have to say Freshman year was definitely the hardest year for me. It all started going down-hill after two weeks of starting high school. My local community holds a fun Art & Wine Festival at the local park every September, which I usually spend the time volunteering and walking around with my family looking at all the cute vendors scattered around the park. Not only are there "spin-the-wheel" free giveaway booths and booths selling food as fundraisers, there's also another section of the park dedicated for fun things for kids, such as a petting zoo, multiple moonwalks, and even a rock climbing wall. That year I decided to try the rock-climbing wall, after determining that it was within my exertion limits. Unfortunately, to my dad's horror as he looked on, that was the first time I went into cardiac arrest. My heart stopped as I was mid-climb but the harness caught me, and luckily (which to this day I am still so thankful for) there was a paramedic firetruck stationed right across the rock climbing wall as a sort of show-and-tell station for little kids. The paramedics were able to run across to where I was and with the use of an AED (automated external defibrillator) they were able to shock me back to life after a second shock.
The next thing I could remember when I finally returned to consciousness was the beeping of a heart monitor and me on a hospital bed. I was in the pediatric ICU (intensive care unit) of the Stanford Lucile Packard Children's Hospital, and I couldn't remember anything after strapping on into the harness for rock climbing at the festival. My mom had to inform me about everything that happened and that they were so, so scared I suffered brain damage during the time my heart had stopped beating. Apparently I had short-term memory loss for a week and I would constantly ask my mom: "Where's Dad? Where's Emy (my sister)? Where's my phone? Where are my clothes? Why am I here?" (I know, I was so materialistic... ) Even to this day, it's scary to think that a whole week of my life is missing from my memory, although if I'm being completely honest, I usually try to not think about this whole ordeal. It was during this hospital stay that doctors began bringing up the words "heart transplant" and "surgery" and "put her on the list" and as a 13 year old, it was absolutely terrifying. I still remember my head hurting from all the sounds of the crying babies that were on the other sides of the curtains separating patients within the ICU, and my body was so weak from what had happened and the lack of movement that I could only go for walks 3 times a day. Finally, during the second week of my stay at the ICU, a doctor brought to my parents an alternative: to have an ICD implanted instead of getting a heart transplant. An ICD, implanted cardioverter-defibrillator, would be able to shock my heart out of abnormal rhythm or out of cardiac arrest if it were to ever happen again, and it also has a dual function as a pacemaker. We were all so relieved and immediately decided on that option, and my surgery was to be scheduled later that week. Unfortunately, it seemed my good luck had run out because that same week one of my veins in my leg managed to become infected from an IV. The veins on my arms were already all bruised from new IVs everyday since my veins didn't agree with the needles, and the nurse had decided to try a vein in my leg. My whole body was literally pricked and poked at constantly, and I remember being in a lot of pain. That infection set back my surgery for an entire week, but eventually on October 3rd I received my ICD and after two strenuous days of throat pain from the breathing tube stuck down my throat from the surgery, I was released from the hospital.
Overall, I had been in the ICU for about a month. During that time, as crazy as it sounds, I did homework in the hospital to keep up with my school work as the overachiever I am, and I even attended the hospital school that Stanford provided to learn some of my school material. The highlight of my stay was when my friends from middle school organized a trip and all came to visit me, which I cannot even express my gratitude for. I finally returned to school mid-October, and my teachers were extremely understanding and combined with allowing me to be exempt from a couple of assignments and the hard work I put in trying to catch up while I was at the hospital, I was able to keep my straight A's and receive a 4.0 for the semester.
I spent the rest of my freshman year in a somewhat depressed/sad stage. At this point my illness no longer had the chance of making a full recovery, and it was now classified as chronic. Now I was asking the question that I'm sure many other's in my situation ask: "Why me?" It was hard to adjust to my new situation, and I knew now that I would never be able to return to the competitive swimming world. This was the time that I really grieved about my situation, although I tried my best to hide it from my parents since I knew they were already dealing with so much. Instead, with no swimming or exercise to distract me, I transferred my competitive nature to and mainly just concentrated on my academics. I'd have to say my best friend at the time Helen really helped me get out of my depression, and since freshman year I have been much better at coping with my illness.

Sophomore year was not as big as Freshman year, but it was still pretty eventful. Life was continuing on as normal, but on the morning of my Chinese SAT II subject test in October 2009, I had another cardiac arrest. My ICD had to shock me and I was rushed to the hospital where I ended up staying for a week to monitor me as I was put on an anti-arrythmic for my heart--amiodarone. I missed school the entire week and again, I had my sister bring me my assignments so I wouldn't fall behind in school and to keep my straight A's. Another two months passed and my condition was looking pretty stable. I had asked my doctor for clearance to join the high school swim team--just for light exercise and not for competition, and promised not to exert myself. To my utter dismay, a week before the swim season was to begin and about two weeks before my fall semester finals, I had another cardiac arrest while I was getting ready for school. I had gone from a sitting position into a standing position and suddenly my heart was racing so fast that the next thing I knew I woke up on the floor of my room with my chest still tingling from the shock of my ICD. I immediately started crying, not from the pain or anything, but realizing then there would be no chance for me to swim that year. Being able to return to the water was just in my grasp, and just like that--it was ripped away from me again. I then had to stay at the hospital again for a week, this time to monitor me for a new drug-- coumadin, a blood thinner since the doctors found there was a risk of a blood clot around one of my leads on my ICD. To make matters worse, this was the week before my finals and I was missing all the review sessions my teachers were holding and even some new material that was going to be on my finals. I spent my entire hospital stay studying for my finals, and in fact, I'm pretty sure on the day I came back to school I had to take my Spanish final! (I think my teachers offered to have me take it later but I believe that it was such an inconvenience that I decided to just take it with the rest of the class) My determination and hard work paid off, as I received A's in all of my classes and I even received the highest score on my AP Euro final! It was such an achievement and I was so proud of myself.

After those two events in Sophomore year, the rest of my high school career was relatively peaceful. I did not experience any more episodes, but I did have to deal with tri-monthly doctor visits to Stanford Hospital, in which most of the time I had to skip school and they would usually take at least 4 hours per visit, and had more blood tests than I could count (every month in fact, due to the fact that I was on coumadin). I was finally cleared for "light exercise" but my high school does not require upperclassman to take P.E., so I usually tried to go biking for 30 min after school and go to yoga on the weekends with my mom. I was so thankful that my condition had now stabilized enough for me to live a mostly normal life and that I was healthy enough to leave home to attend college. I ended up graduating as Valedictorian of my class, even despite all my hospital stays and missing about two months of school overall.

As you can see, my journey has not been an easy one but I somehow managed to persevere through and not let my heart disease hold me back. I had enough of self-pity during my Freshman year, and I spent the rest of my three years of high school really trying to look at the "glass half-full" side of life. During my senior year I joined my city's youth commission and was co-head of the philanthropy committee, and dedicated it towards fundraising and raising awareness of installing AEDs in school since anyone at ANY age, with me being as a prime example, can have a sudden cardiac arrest. My work there along with my volunteering at hospitals throughout my junior and senior year inspired me to pursue a science related major at UCLA, which brings me to the next chapter of my life: living with heart disease in college and 341 miles away from the comfort of my home & my parents.