I spent weeks in the hospital fighting for my life, and my family never came once. Not my mother, not my father, not my sister. One month later, my mom texted asking for $12,000 for my sister’s bridal dress.

the copy machine, my fever was 104, my blood pressure was falling, and my body had started bargaining with death.

During those three weeks, I had plenty of time to count ceiling tiles. I had time to learn the names of the nurses who changed my IV bags. I had time to watch my phone light up with spam emails, pharmacy alerts, and one birthday coupon from continue reading …