I had a pulmonary embolism on September 10, 2025 at 24 years old.
A couple weeks before, I noticed the left side of my back and neck were hurting. I thought I was just sore from Pilates so I took ibuprofen and didn’t think much about it.
On September 5, I got engaged in Las Vegas. I flew home to Oklahoma on September 7, and two days later I woke up with horrible pain in my left shoulder. Again, I convinced myself I had pulled a muscle. I went about my day like normal—work, Pilates, then home.
That night, when I tried to lie on the couch, I screamed in pain. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was having a heart attack.
My fiancé rushed me to the ER. After multiple tests, I was diagnosed with blood clots in my legs (deep vein thrombosis, or DVT) and lungs (pulmonary embolism.)
I was transferred to a heart hospital, where I had an emergency thrombectomy to remove the clots. By the grace of God, I survived—but my surgeon told me I was one of the luckiest pulmonary embolism patients he had ever seen. Many people don’t make it.
Many people die from them every day, so I consider myself insanely lucky.
I was later diagnosed with antiphospholipid syndrome (APS), an autoimmune disorder that increases the risk for blood clots. My grandmother also passed away from a blood clot in her brain.
Today, I take blood thinners, get up from my office desk every hour to walk around, and wear compression socks.
Please be aware and don’t brush off symptoms like I did. I was incredibly lucky—but not everyone is.
