Accept, adapt, move on
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I was diagnosed with Addison’s disease when I was just ten months old. Today, I am 23.
My name is Haider, and my story began in Iraq, around the fifth or sixth month of my life—shortly after the 2003 American invasion. As the war raged outside, with bombings and chaos tearing through every corner, my parents desperately moved me from one doctor to another. For five long months, medical professionals failed to understand what was wrong with me, until a pediatrician named Dr. Mohanad finally diagnosed the condition. He told my family that I needed to be hospitalized for months.
As the years went by, my life became a cycle of prolonged hospital stays. I vividly remember a doctor once telling my older brother that I might be at risk of Down syndrome; to this day, I still don’t understand the connection or why he said that.
Because of all this, I never had a normal childhood like other kids. Instead of playing outside, I used to watch my peers through the window or from the rooftop. Most of my childhood was spent by the side of my father—a truly great man. Together, we would read the newspapers and follow the news. I would sit quietly, listening to him recite the Quran or read through his books, while I immersed myself in a geographical atlas.
For all those years, I never had a normal childhood or adolescence; physical exhaustion would catch up with me at the slightest effort. The sun and the heat became my sworn enemies—and if you know anything about the Iraqi summer, you know it's not just hot, it can easily reach 55°C.
As I grew older, my understanding of my illness deepened, and with that understanding came a growing sense of resentment and frustration. But everything changed in the summer of 2024. I was 21 when I collapsed and lost consciousness. When I woke up, a profound realization hit me: there was absolutely no use in hating my condition, and no point in resentment.
I formulated a mantra that day, one that I live by to this day: “If you cannot change something, adapt to it, and move forward.”
And that is exactly what I am doing. Today, I am on the verge of earning my bachelor’s degree in Arabic Language, ready to embark on my professional career.
Accept. Adapt. Move on.
And finally apologies for any shortcomings in my English, and thank you for taking the time to read my story.