I used to keep two calendars.

One was the digital one my colleagues saw,

filled with project deadlines, 

client meetings, and launch dates.


The other was the one I kept in my head—

a private ledger of "red zones" 

where I knew my body was reaching its limit.


Navigating a career with sickle cell 

is like walking a tightrope 

while everyone else is on a sidewalk.


You want to be known for your talent, 

your sharp code, and your leadership,

but you are constantly negotiating 

with a blood type that doesn't care 

about your quarterly reviews.


I spent years in a cycle of overworking 

to prove I was "reliable,"

only to trigger a crisis 

that would sideline me for weeks,

undoing all the progress I’d made.


The turning point came 

when I connected with Plasma of Hope.


Before then, I viewed my health and my career 

as two separate, warring entities.

The charity helped me realize 

that the only way to win was to integrate them.


They provided me with more than just medical advocacy;

they gave me the vocabulary to talk about my needs

without sounding like I was asking for a favor.


Through their support, 

I learned how to manage the "invisible" side of my career.

I accessed the consistent therapies 

that kept my baseline stable,

meaning I wasn't constantly teetering 

on the edge of a hospital bed.


For the first time, 

I wasn't just working until I broke;

I was working sustainably.


I remember a day last year 

when a major server migration went sideways.

It was high-stress, late nights, 

and freezing air conditioning—

the perfect recipe for a crisis.


In the past, I would have pushed through 

until I collapsed.

This time, I used the tools 

Plasma of Hope taught me.


I managed my hydration,

utilized the support network they helped me build,

and for the first time in my professional life,

I finished a major project without ending up in the ER.


Today, I’m not just a "survivor" in the workplace;

I’m a founder.

I realized that the resilience I learned 

from managing sickle cell wasn't a liability—

it was my greatest professional asset.


Plasma of Hope didn't just help me stay healthy;

they helped me stay ambitious.

They reminded me that my chair at the table 

doesn't have to be empty,

and that my contribution to the world 

is worth the effort it takes to stay well.


I’m no longer hiding my red calendar.

I’m just busy filling the digital one.