“I thought everyone was like me growing up. I was raised in a family and neighborhood where people were shamed for showing fear. To show weakness of any kind was distasteful and invited disrespect. I would sooner get my ass kicked than run away from a fight.”

“I thought I could heal myself and tried my best. But three years into the almost constant infections, I knew I had little choice anymore. I could have a horrible quality of life and die young. Or I could potentially improve my quality of life and see my grandchildren be born and raised. The second option left me with a permanent poop bag.”