My Story:

In October 2024, everything changed in a Walmart parking lot.

For about a week I hadn’t been feeling well. I thought it was just an extended hangover because that was what it felt like, even though I hadn’t had anything to drink in days. My friend checked on me and told me I needed to go to the emergency room because something wasn’t right.

I didn’t listen.

On October 11, I finally got up, took a shower, and drove to Walmart for groceries, hoping I’d start feeling normal again. I made it through the store, loaded my car, and collapsed in the parking lot. A couple helped me up. I told them I was diabetic and needed sugar. I even managed to put the shopping cart away.

A few moments later, I collapsed again.

This time I couldn’t get up.

Another couple called 911.

I woke up in an ambulance headed to Presbyterian Hospital. Everything in the emergency room looked dark and unreal. I called my friend and told her, “I made it to the ER.”

She laughed and said "it's about time" then asked what the doctors were saying.

I told her they were preparing to take my foot.

That is the last clear memory I have.

The infection started in my toes, spread through my foot, and continued up my leg. Despite the doctors’ efforts, they couldn’t stop it. I underwent a below-the-knee amputation of my right leg. On top of the sepsis, doctors discovered endocarditis and my diabetes was completely out of control.

The doctors told my friend they weren’t sure I was going to survive.

Somehow, I did.

Nearly two years later, I’m still trying to rebuild my life.

Unfortunately, surviving was only the beginning.

The prosthetic I received was never properly measured, and because it doesn’t fit correctly, every trip to the mailbox or grocery store leaves me with severe back pain from walking unevenly.

I’m a maintenance worker by trade. I don’t have training for an office job, and right now I can’t physically do the work I’ve spent my life doing.

I don’t even have a valid photo ID anymore.

My car has been sitting so long it won’t start.

Without transportation, I can’t get to the DMV.

Without a valid ID, I can’t get a job.

Without a job, I can’t afford to repair my car.

Because I lost my right leg, getting back to driving isn’t as simple as renewing my license. I may have to complete additional testing or meet state requirements before I can legally drive again. Every doctor’s appointment, every errand, and every piece of paperwork depends on someone else’s schedule because I can’t even afford an Uber.

I’ve applied for disability and was denied. I also applied for food assistance twice. I completed interviews and was even told I would likely be approved, yet somehow the paperwork disappeared and I never received the help I desperately needed.

I know many people are denied disability the first time, and I missed the appeal deadline while trying to survive everything else life was throwing at me. That’s on me. But it’s also frustrating to see how complicated and unforgiving these systems can be when you’re already dealing with a catastrophic medical event.

It often feels like the people who need help the most are the ones forced to fight the hardest just to be heard.

My friend has done more for me than I could ever repay, but she has her own family and responsibilities. I don’t want to depend on one person forever.

I want my independence back.

What this fundraiser will help with

• Prosthetic adjustments and medical equipment

• Rent and utilities to reduce the financial pressure while I recover

• Groceries and everyday living expenses

• Transportation, car repairs, and getting my identification and driver’s license situation resolved

• Unexpected medical and living expenses

Goal: $7,500

• $2,500 – Prosthetic adjustment and medical equipment

• $2,000 – Rent and utilities

• $1,500 – Groceries and daily living expenses

• $1,000 – Transportation, car repairs, and the ID process

• Remaining funds – Unexpected medical or living expenses

If I raise more than my goal, every additional dollar will go toward prosthetic care, medical costs, transportation, and rebuilding my independence.

This isn’t about luxury.

It’s about having a chance to rebuild a life that changed forever in a Walmart parking lot.

The photos show my life before sepsis, the reality of what happened in the hospital, and where I am today.

If you can donate, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

If you can’t, sharing my story could help it reach someone who can.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.