For Lily Mae, care hasn’t always been gentle, accessible, or straightforward. It took years of unanswered questions, misdiagnoses, and painful symptoms before she finally felt what it meant to be truly supported. Her journey is filled with turning points—some life-saving, some quiet, some deeply human—that reshaped how she understands care today.
In this powerful reflection, Lily Mae shares the moments that changed everything: the doctor who finally listened, the community she built for others, the nurse who helped save her life, and the small acts of compassion that still echo years later.
Continue reading to learn more about Lily Mae’s story and the strength she discovered along the way.
The Turning Point: When Care Finally Meant Something New
The turning point for me came after years and years of being incredibly sick with no answers. I had spent so much time trying to convince doctors that something was really wrong, feeling like care was something I had to chase and beg for.
Then I finally saw a new doctor who looked at me and said, “I’m going to do everything I can to figure out why you’re so sick.” And he meant it. For the first time, I felt truly seen. He ordered the tests that finally showed what had been wrong all along.
In that moment, care stopped feeling like something I had to fight for. It became something I was finally receiving—something offered with intention, compassion, and belief. That shift changed everything for me.
The Memory I’d Freeze: Building Community and Finding Strength
If I could freeze one memory from my journey that showed my strength, it would be the moment I started a support group for others with similar health struggles.
Even when many of us are too unwell to meet in person, gathering virtually has been life changing. Creating that space—one where people could show up exactly as they are, be understood, and feel less alone—makes me feel strong in a way nothing else has.
It’s a reminder that even in the hardest seasons, connection can bloom, and community can become a lifeline.
When Care Became a Feeling, Not a Task
Care became a feeling for me when I was hospitalized with sepsis for two weeks. Those days were terrifying and exhausting, but while I was there, I met some of the most amazing nurses.
I’ll always remember one of them saying, “If you would have stayed in bed that night instead of coming in, you likely wouldn’t be here. I’m so glad you didn’t wait.”
Those words have stayed with me. In that moment, care wasn’t just a medical intervention—it was a deep, human reassurance. A reminder that someone was glad I existed.
The Quiet Acts That Still Stay With Me
Some of the greatest acts of care I’ve received have come from others in the chronic illness community. Their willingness to listen, send cards, put together care packages, and always show up for me has stayed with me more than anything.
These are people who understand without needing an explanation. Their quiet love and genuine presence have shaped my journey in ways I’ll never forget.
The Story That Reminds Me Who I've Become
Working at an endometriosis specialty clinic has been so healing for me. I struggled with symptoms of endometriosis from the time I was 13 but didn’t receive a diagnosis until I was 19.
Being in a place where I can help rewrite the narrative for others feels like coming full circle. It’s a reminder of who I’ve become—not just what I’ve endured. I feel grateful every day to turn my pain into advocacy and to support others in ways I once needed myself.
Follow Lily Mae on Instagram to learn more about her journey.
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