3.18.84 — 3.2.15
BY MONICA VICTOR
T
wo dates separated by a dash etched on her headstone.
The first, the day she was born; the second, the day
she breathed her last. And the dash in between — well, it
represents the life that she lived. From childhood to adulthood to
the invasion of the “wolf”, the lupus, that ended her life at 31.
Nazy had not been feeling well. She was always tired and in
constant pain, her ankles and feet puffy and her joints pained
from inflammation. There were days when her hands were so
white they looked like all the blood had been drained from
them. A tiny rash took up residence in just that one spot near
her left eye and tiny bumps hid beneath her thick dark hair.
“I think I have lupus,” she nonchalantly said to me as she
walked down the stairs of our apartment one morning back
in June 2013. The cadence in her voice was natural and from
the expression on her face, I couldn’t tell whether she was
alarmed, devastated or worried. But she looked tired. Tired
and spent from staying up all night doing research on the
Internet that led to her self-diagnosis.
A visit to the doctor, numerous tests and blood work
confirmed that she indeed had lupus —Systemic Lupus, the
more severe form of the disease. While the family agonized
over the diagnosis in silence, Nazy didn’t sweat it. She always
embraced challenges with grace and by nature was
courageous, strong, and resilient.
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