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My PNH Journey: The Power of a Diagnosis

By 
Maegan Voss
February 28, 2022

A few months ago, PicnicHealth asked me to write about my experience with my rare disease, paroxysmal nocturnal hemoglobinuria (PNH). At that point, back in November, I had just received a diagnosis after ten years of questioning my reality, and a new way of thinking had just begun to set in. A diagnosis can be such a vindictive thing, especially after such a long time, and it took me these past months to really come to terms with my new situation. 


It feels like the entire world has been opened up before me, a future with managed symptoms has appeared out of the fog of an undiagnosed life, and I’m honestly still kind of in shock. Over the course of the ten years without a proper diagnosis, PNH had taken over my entire life. I had grown to expect limitless fatigue, blood transfusions, pain, and infection as my normal, all without a real explanation. I had even moved back home, unable to receive proper accommodations from my day job (partly due to the lack of official diagnosis), and barely able to take care of myself. Something was seriously wrong with me, and I felt the dream of a “stable” life being torn away by something that I couldn’t even explain or understand. I felt so isolated in my symptoms because without the scientific or social knowledge to back up my experiences, I felt increased pressure to just go along with the narrative that it was all in my head, that I was just being dramatic.

Over the course of the ten years without a proper diagnosis, PNH had taken over my entire life

This is a situation that so many of those who have suffered from undiagnosed rare diseases know far too well. But now, I am no longer alone. I have a team of doctors working with my body, not against it. I have nurses and resources and my friends at PicnicHealth, all of whom are working with me in this new life that I am living, and that feeling alone is worth all of the past ten year’s journey. I am able to listen to my body and then turn to actual clinical research to compare my experiences to others, and it is an incredibly validating path to finally be walking.


PicnicHealth’s mission is to help patients take control of their health, both with document accessibility and with their ground-breaking contributions to Rare Disease research. Fellow Rare Disease sufferers will understand the importance of continued research so that more and more of us can experience the unparalleled joy of a diagnosis. As we strive to understand our bodies and better communicate their symptoms to those around us, the work that PicnicHealth does is an amazing asset. Patients can finally compile the years of lab work, doctor visits, and clinical experiences that pile up when hunting for a diagnosis, and they can therefore be prepared to take control of the narrative and push for real answers. I hope for a world where all bodies and their symptoms are validated and cherished, and Picnic Health is helping us move towards this goal!


I hope as you read about my journey towards diagnosis, as well as my continued struggles post-diagnosis, you gain an appreciation for the ways in which patient-advocacy can change lives. The more we listen to our bodies, as well as encourage others to do the same, the closer we come to “A New Normal”.

Patients can finally compile the years of lab work, doctor visits, and clinical experiences that pile up when hunting for a diagnosis, and they can therefore be prepared to take control of the narrative and push for real answers.


A New Normal


Following a positive identification through my bone marrow biopsy, I was diagnosed with an extremely rare disease called hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis (HLH) on the day of my 17th birthday. Triggered by a normal teenage case of mono, my body went into hyperdrive and began producing aggressive cells that began to attack my lymphatic system. If the over-enthusiastic HLH cells were left up to their own devices, they would have continued their ceaseless attack on my organs and my spleen could have literally exploded, along with a variety of other unpleasant outcomes. I remember my mom and I joking that I looked like a bullfrog with the enlarged lymph nodes in my neck that were pressing up against my throat, while my belly stuck out at odd places, tender to the touch, incredibly swollen.


As I lay, barely conscious, the doctor explained to my parents and I that because my immune system was so riled up, I was to be given a daily dose of extra strong steroids to beat it down as much as possible while, on the flip side, I was to be administered weekly chemotherapy to kill off the remaining enemy HLH cells. There were lots of words I didn’t understand through the haze of fever, but when the doctor said “Chemotherapy”, I stiffened. I vaguely remember my mom crying next to me, my friends peering at me from the doorway of my room, and being carted, barely cognizant, from my bed to the infusion clinic to labs to back to bed.


Before this, chemotherapy had always been a plot device rather than a drug to me. I had usually seen it tossed around as a character-building hardship or a dramatic twist in medical dramas. I pictured bald, frail, old ladies in nursing homes hooked up to IVs, sickly kids in medical wards, martyred teenage girls hooked up to machines. How could this be happening to me? This question reverberated in my head as I was pumped with my first of many etoposide doses, and it continued to haunt me for quite a long time.


How could this be happening to me?

When I was an able-bodied teenager, illness was always temporary. To be honest, I would sometimes even play up the occasional sniffle in hopes of missing a day or two of school. A cold meant the chance to snuggle up in my nice cozy bed with some homemade soup and some reality TV. It meant the chance to revel in a rare break from chores, tests, soccer practice, and homework. A chance to be babied and swaddled again. Sure, getting sick was never “fun,” but it was a useful pause within the action of my life. Inevitably, I would always look forward to returning to the world of the living within a few days or so, refreshed and healthy. Maybe with an angry teacher and a pile of homework waiting in the coming school week, but worth it every once in a while.


There was always this vision of an inevitable path forward. I had no reason to think otherwise: a cold or the flu would always plateau and then my strength would inevitably fight back. Whenever things did seem to take too long, when the gloating over missing school turned to moaning and groaning, my parents would admonish me: “Stop whining! You’ll be better soon!” and it eventually would always ring true. People that live relatively able bodied lives continue to understand health in this way: as always returning to an inevitable equilibrium of wellness. With enough rest, or a run, or some Tylenol, or some water, a turmeric supplement, whatever, many people will bounce back, better than ever.


For those people, and the system that they have built, health is the norm that our schedules revolve around. Illness is an annoying pause in productivity that must occasionally be dealt with; there is always a healthy future to recover towards. Because health is the productive norm, disabilities and illnesses are oddities to be pushed out of sight, instead of accommodated. Within a world where a traditional model of health is assumed, disabled stories are used as tall tales to encourage “healthy lifestyles:” bodies are reliable machines that need to be tuned up every now and then and those that are sick are simply too lazy to bounce back (and thus deserve the extreme higher rates of poverty, comorbidities, and death that we categorically face). We see the narrative of linear recovery everywhere: from sitcom plots to healthcare to how we request leave at our jobs- the expectation is always that if you push through, ignore your body and just “get over it” things will get better.


Within a world where a traditional model of health is assumed, disabled stories are used as tall tales to encourage ‘healthy lifestyles’...I believe that not all descriptions of health should be the same.

So, with that narrative firmly ingrained in my mind, I had no frame of reference for the lifelong journey that I was stumbling into. I played soccer five nights a week, ran a seven minute mile, and rarely got sick besides the occasional flu. I couldn’t imagine a world where sucking it up and going on a run wasn’t the solution to illness. That is, until I began to get winded easily the summer before my senior year of high school, and my young healthy body began to experience strange new symptoms. I collapsed onto the pavement while my friends were shooting off fireworks on the Fourth of July. At the beach, the summer sun burned my eyes. I slept and slept and never felt rested. My dad encouraged me to drink more water. My mom pushed me to exercise, telling me that I just had a case of the teenage lazies. The reliable machine that was my body began to malfunction, and all of our troubleshooting was leading nowhere. I ignored it for a couple of weeks, waiting and waiting for things to get better as always.


Near my birthday, when I fainted in the shower, I thought of it more as a funny story than as a portend to an entirely new life. Finally, with this last occurrence, my nurse mom kidnapped me and drove me to the hospital, unable to write off any more symptoms (thanks, Mom!). I was admitted almost immediately for extremely low levels of hemoglobin, extremely high levels of inflammation, and a disastrous and continuous 103 fever. Even so, during all of this, I remember joking around with my friends about missing homecoming, about having to reschedule my birthday party, about getting “out of shape.” I remember worrying about how my port scar would look in senior pictures. Looking back, these things seem so inconsequential in light of the seismic shift that was occurring, but they were the tethers to normal that I clung to. I expected everything to simply resume, as I had always been told it would. I was suddenly Frodo, leaving my little hobbit home, second breakfast in hand, with no concept of the trials to come.


As I sat in the oncology unit of the hospital, waiting for the results of a rushed bone marrow biopsy, my family sitting grimly around me, I feebly began to acknowledge that my one-off episode was turning into a season-long arc. The doctors reassured me that with chemotherapy and steroids, my fatigue would come to an end and I would triumphantly return to my friends at school, good as new. As much as I can look back and appreciate my doctors for their optimism, I wish that I could have had a wise old Gandalf-type wizard to snap me out of sitcom fantasies and tell me to brace myself for an entirely new life: dragons, orcs, and all. It would take months, even years, but eventually I would begin to understand that my adventure has forever altered the path of my life.


I am writing this article on Rare Disease Day because I believe that not all descriptions of health should be the same: I will struggle and claw to live for the rest of my life, and so will so many amazing and talented disabled people, and we deserve to have representation and accommodation for lives outside of the traditional narrative. On Rare Disease day, I hope we all can look at health not as an inevitability but as a beautiful (and sometimes grueling) individual journey that we each must embrace and support each other in, especially those whose journeys are more challenging than our own. If we expand our definition of personal health to include those with disabilities, when we inevitably face our own dragons we will each have the social networks of support and understanding that we will need.


Read on for Part 2 of Maegan’s PNH Journey “The Fight Continues” as she lifts up her story and supports others on Rare Disease Day 2022.


To continue to support Maegan, follow her on Instagram (@bu99ram) and LinkedIn.

About 

Maegan Voss

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Patient Stories | Patient Blog
Patient Stories
July 19, 2022

5 Tips for Better Doctor's Visits with PNH

Living with a rare disease brings you to a doctor’s office more than the average person. To make the most of your time with your doctor, it is important to be prepared, listen, and speak up in order to build rapport with them. Here are my five tips to help you do this and improve your next doctor’s visit:Take notes. When talking to a doctor, it is easy to nod and agree with everything they are saying. It may all make sense at that moment, but the second you leave the office, so much information is forgotten. Taking notes on your phone or in a notebook helps ensure you have all the information to look back on if you forget what is discussed.Organize and keep track of your medical records. Having your records and imaging readily available, especially if you are seeing a new doctor, is extremely helpful not only for the doctor, but also yourself. Doctors will want to review your history, but you yourself may want to review your records to mark down how you physically feel and compare them to the actual testing. Programs like PicnicHealth’s Timeline make it easy to integrate your medical records between all your doctors (PNH-related or not), hospital visits, lab work, etc., and keep them readily available in one place.Keep a running list of questions between appointments. Whenever a question pops into your head, write it down! Bring that list to your appointment in whatever form is easiest for you; write them out, keep them stored on your phone, or even print them out so you can write the answers next to each question as you ask your doctor. Listen to your doctor, but remember you do not have to be a silent participant. Try to make sure appointments feel like a discussion rather than a one-sided lecture. Don’t forget, it’s your health, and no one knows your story better than you do.Stay informed. You are your best advocate, staying informed about PNH news is a great way to understand the disease and any opportunities you might have for new treatments. There are also low-effort ways to participate in PNH research with observational research studies. PicnicHealth is a great platform for both understanding your medical history and contributing to observational research.Don’t be intimated. Your doctor may have extensive education and multiple degrees, but don’t be nervous around them, they are humans too, and are there to help you. The more relaxed you are, the easier it is to open up and give them the information they need to give you the best care.

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Empower people to own their medical records. Advance medicine. We’re a passionate group of doctors, patients, data nerds, engineers, and builders, who believe in making something real that changes lives today and in the future.

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Create a List

List the names of all the doctors, hospitals, and other facilities your loved one visits regularly, along with those they have visited in the past. Try to go back as far as you can, striving for at least the last 5-10 years, but do your best. Even if you can’t remember them all, having a strong baseline can help you quickly identify gaps in records.

Ensure You Have the Appropriate Legal Status

It is important to make sure that you are fully empowered to make decisions on behalf of your loved one with Alzheimer’s. Your relationship status with the patient may not be enough to legally give you access to your loved one's medical information. It is a good idea to talk to an expert about securing special legal status, such as Power of Attorney (POA), a legal document that allows an individual to name someone as their decision maker should they no longer be able to make decisions on their own.

Gather and Organize the Medical Records in One Place

It’s important to have all of your loved one’s medical records together in one spot. This makes it much easier for you and your loved one’s physicians to accurately map the patient’s medical journey and more easily share information between doctors. Fortunately, tools exist to make record management and access simple. A free resource like PicnicHealth helps you collect and organize all of this information. PicnicHealth’s intuitive timeline allows you to pinpoint data across the medical history, eliminating your need for keeping heavy binders filled with paper records or keeping track of multiple software portal logins.

Review the Medical Records to be an Informed Advocate

The better you understand your loved one's medical history, the better you can advocate on their behalf. Access and understanding of this information will help you to ask informed questions with physicians. Through regular communication backed by the data in the medical records, you can help your loved one’s care team develop a more successful care plan.

Learn more about PicnicHealth’s commitment to the Alzheimer’s community and the Alzheimer’s Association

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Together, we can make a difference.

Learn more about PicnicHealth’s commitment to the Alzheimer’s community and the Alzheimer’s Association

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1

Build a support network.

If your loved one is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, putting a support system together might not seem like priority #1. But it’s never too soon to build a network of people that you can turn to in times of need. Cultivate connections today with the people who can be there tomorrow, or whenever you might need a hand.

You may also want to connect with other Alzheimer’s caregivers through a support group, whether it meets in-person or online. In addition to the encouragement and empathy they provide, support groups can be a helpful source of tips, resources, and recommendations for navigating the world of Alzheimer’s.

2

Stay organized.

If your loved one is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, putting a support system together might not seem like priority #1. But it’s never too soon to build a network of people that you can turn to in times of need. Cultivate connections today with the people who can be there tomorrow, or whenever you might need a hand.

You may also want to connect with other Alzheimer’s caregivers through a support group, whether it meets in-person or online. In addition to the encouragement and empathy they provide, support groups can be a helpful source of tips, resources, and recommendations for navigating the world of Alzheimer’s.

3

Plan for the future.

It isn’t always easy to look into the future with Alzheimer’s—but doing the legwork now will save you from stress later. If your loved one is in the early stages of illness, you can involve them in conversations about legal, financial, and long-term care planning decisions. Despite the difficulty of these topics, you’ll all feel empowered by facing them early, and you can move ahead with greater confidence.

4

Explore treatments and clinical trials.

It’s an exciting time for Alzheimer’s research, with new treatments in development and coming to market. Ask your loved one’s doctors about therapies they can try or clinical trials they can join. One easy way to participate in research is to sign up at PicnicHealth, which helps to advance Alzheimer’s science by sharing participants’ anonymous health data with some of the brightest minds in research.

5

Make time for self-care

It may seem self-centered to focus on self-care—but when you feel good, you can be a better caregiver. Whether it’s exercise, a mindfulness practice, a soak in the bath, or just time to rest when you need it, carve out those moments in the day when you can unwind, reset, and stay healthy mentally and physically. Think of it as building up your reserves of kindness, patience, and understanding—which can only benefit your loved one with Alzheimer’s. And don’t forget to keep a sense of humor along the way.

Having trouble managing your loved one's medical records?

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LC-FAOD Odyssey: A Preliminary Analysis, presented at INFORM 2021

Data from real-world medical records:

(from 13 patients with LC-FAOD)

16 yrs old

Median age at enrollment

38% Female

15 providers / patient

7.5 years of data / patient

Data from patient-reported outcome (PRO) survey

(from 13 patients with LC-FAOD)

We hope you found this session informative! Sign up for PicnicHealth’s Alzheimer’s research program below.

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Tip: Download or print the poster at the end of this article to review before your next appointment!
However, it's important to consult with a healthcare provider or registered dietitian to determine the appropriate amount of protein for your individual needs. In general, a diet with moderate protein intake (about 0.8 grams per kilogram of body weight per day) is recommended for people with kidney diseases.

Learn more about contributing to IgAN research with PicnicHealth. 

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Save The Top-10 List

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Keep an Eye on These Test Results

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