05/26/2026
My body began eating itself.
And no doctor would help me.
Post-menopausal flatline.
Estrogen. Testosterone. DHEA.
Absolute zero.
Then breast surgery.
With no s*x hormones left to protect my tissue, my body went into emergency triage — raiding amino acids from my own muscle just to close the wound.
Survival will bankrupt the future to keep you alive today.
That drain triggered severe Vitamin D deficiency.
Bones and tissue — completely unprotected.
Then the heart palpitations started.
My chest pounding.
My body weak.
The couch — my only choice.
I watched my muscle disappear while doctor after doctor looked at my breast cancer history, calculated their risk, and walked away.
That dismissal is its own kind of injury.
The medical name for what was happening: Sarcopenia.
Progressive muscle wasting.
Not just wounds. Not just trauma.
A body consuming itself to survive.
But I refused to be a casualty of a chart.
On this garage floor, every slow, heavy second I hold this weight plate is a demand to my cells:
Rebuild.
Adapt.
Stand up.
My body patched me up to keep me alive.
Now it’s my turn to build it back.
Has your body ever fought to survive something the medical system ignored?
