Lauren T.
Photography by Reese Niccolls
If you’re reading this, keep advocating for yourself and know your body is strong.
I have always had random health issues. Migraines, nausea, shakes, cramps, heat flashes, zapping, and ringing in the ears. You name it, I’ve probably had it. Every doctor I’ve ever gone to since I was young has always told me the same thing. Drink water and stress less. Perfect. But hydration and relaxation never worked, so I brushed it off and forgot about it until it got bad again.
Freshman year of high school was one of the first emergency room trips that set me off. I went to a local urgent care complaining about pain I was having in my lower right abdomen. Without much testing, they sent me to the hospital for emergency appendix surgery. While preparing myself, I was hesitant about their diagnosis, so I started questioning more and more. Turns out, my appendix was not the issue, and that surgery would have been for nothing. The only thing it would have gotten me is one less organ and a whole lot less money. Shortly after that, I started cultivating relationships with specialty doctors. I was checked for vertigo, PCOS, anxiety, ADHD, but nothing really pinpointed the issues. A year later, I woke up with half my face paralyzed, unable to see out of my left eye. I went to more local specialists, even parents of friends I knew in the healthcare world. I was told to wait it out and do some facial exercises. No one ever told me a cause, a reason, a fix. I got vials and vials of bloodwork every year. Anemic? No. High cholesterol? No. Cancer? No. It was discouraging to keep searching.
When I came to Syracuse my freshman year, the world seemed so big, and I started noticing my body hadn’t acted up in a while. Until it did, again. In the spring semester, I would wake up with vision so blurry I couldn’t see and a headache pounding so bad I didn’t even try to get out of bed. The wellness center could only do so much, but I was in medical transport quite often. Things only seemed to get worse and worse, more things going unexplained, and more doctors shoving me onto the next. My friends and family seemed to start advocating for me more than I did myself, and I started to just accept my body would be a malfunctioning one, forever.
Sophomore year felt new. I was excited to come back and see my friends. I felt confident, I felt cute, and I felt skinny …. everywhere except my stomach. I thought it was weird, but I brushed it off. No doctors are going to take it seriously, neither am I. As the semester went on, my face, arms, and legs all got smaller, but my stomach only grew. Being a college girl, I was secretly enjoying 3/4 of the deal, until it got too out of hand. By the winter, my stomach was looking visibly distended. My friends, cousins, aunts, and even strangers were asking if I was ok. I even got asked if I was pregnant. This broke my heart and made me feel disgusted by myself. Blaming myself for something so neglected by caretakers in the past. I just wanted to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, but I was so discouraged from booking another appointment.
I came back early spring semester for sorority recruitment. I was living in my house with my roommate and some of my best friends. Due to the nature of recruitment, talking to hundreds of girls every day, many of us were getting sick and going to seek care. One of my friends, two doors down the hall, was from California and didn’t have a car. She had caught something and asked if I could drive her to urgent care. I did, and I figured I'd just go in myself too, not thinking much of what they would do or even say. However, to my surprise, these practitioners were all eyes on me when I sat in that patient room. Finally, someone was asking questions, someone was doing tests, and someone was giving advice and possible answers. I was sent to Upstate Hospital, where I underwent a series of long and tedious tests. I was given a plethora of possibilities, some of which I was praying to God were not the truth, but I was finally being heard. After sitting in the hospital for the entire night through morning, I was told I had a 40cm cyst on my right ovary, and I would need emergency surgery that week. My parents rushed to bring me home, and with one meeting with my surgeon, I was gone from Syracuse for the entire semester.
On February 7, 2025, I underwent major open abdominal surgery to remove my right ovary, fallopian tubes, and the 28-pound cyst that had been growing for up to five years. The cramps, the nausea, the pain, the flashes, the zapping, the tingling, everything had been reduced down to this one diagnosis. Now, it did stink having to recover in bed for six months, and I did get a minor revision surgery on June 11, 2026 (which took me out for another summer), but I finally figured out what I knew was there all along. My story is far from over on this big medical journey; I’m sure it will be a factor for the rest of my life, but what matters is perseverance and self-trust.
Ladies, if you feel something is wrong, there’s a good chance it is. Trust your instinct, your intuition, and advocate for yourself. We live in a society where our problems are massively overlooked, especially if they are internal. If I had not given it my all, my cyst may have burst and flooded my lungs, causing me to likely not be here today. And for anyone else reading, no matter what you are going through, if it’s mental, physical, emotional, or spiritual, know that your body and mind are stronger than you know. During those weeks at home in my bed, with a 12-inch incision patched up with stitches and glue down my belly, I hung up a quote from Winnie the Pooh. I read it every day and believe it tenfold: “You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
So if you’re reading this, remember to advocate for yourself. You know you more than anyone else. And if something feels wrong, seek help no matter how hard you have to push. You can handle anything that comes your way, and you will survive even the hardest of battles. Thank you for listening to my story.
Lauren T., Syracuse University
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