Hadley S.
Photography by Mason Schlopy
If you're reading this, take a moment to appreciate even the smallest of moments.
Growing up and continuing until this day I have always had a passion for animals. It was a no-brainer that when I turned six I would start horseback riding lessons to continue my passion.
In the summer of 2017, I was diagnosed with untreated lyme disease. I was pulled out of school, consistently sick, exhausted, and sad. One of the only constants was riding horses when I felt well enough. It was an escape from the harsh realities of what was happening to me and the physical and mental toll it was taking.
In November of the same year, I had just finished a lesson and was walking out on the horse. The reason to this day is unknown, but out of nowhere the horse took off. I was on the ground, unresponsive and was taken to the nearest hospital. After many tedious tests and brawl between doctors, we were confident we would be out of the hospital quickly after a CT scan of my abdomen. The doctor returned ghostly pale and gave us the news: my liver was almost completely split in half, I was internally bleeding and needed to be sent to the fastest responding trauma center.
Strapped into a stretcher with layers of blankets to protect me from the chill, I heard the helicopter pilot quizzing me about my name and age. Coming in and out of consciousness my brain struggled to put the pieces of the night together. And then the world went black.
Over the course of the next month, I fought to recover from a category four liver laceration. From breathing easily, to walking across a room, to eating a meal, all the things in life that I had taken for granted, were stripped away from me in a matter of seconds. I was having a hard time believing I would ever feel normal again and was frustrated that complications continued to arise.
With each passing day, I grew more and more grateful for the mobility I was gaining back. With my daily walks around the hospital corridors I started to gain strength, subtract medication, eat on my own and other basic tasks that had come so naturally to me for the past fourteen years. When your only concern is if you will wake up in the morning, the more miniscule issues become obsolete. No one cared what I was wearing, what my hair looked like, what show I was watching – there was just one common goal, to survive.
I continue to hold this mindset to the present day. It is so easy to become consumed by the smaller, materialistic issues that are so prevalent in our daily lives. I am eternally grateful that I can be stressed about what my outfit is going to be for the day or how much gas is in my car. I have learned the beauty in the small displeasures of life, how lucky I am to be frustrated with schoolwork because that kid in the hospital bed didn’t go to school. To be annoyed when a friend is running late because that girl with the drain in her liver only saw her friends during visiting hours. The cliche of “time is precious” is very real. I strive to surround myself with people who bring me joy, activities that spark my interest and continue my passions that that fourteen year old girl laying in a hospital bed one day dreamed about achieving.
I would be remiss if I didn’t thank my Mom while describing this journey, who told me every day that one day this would be a “blip,” a smaller story amongst a much larger one and I am proud to prove her right.
Hadley S., Syracuse University
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