Testimonial: Obstacles that seem insurmountable

Life sometimes seems to reserve its most difficult trials for those who have the strength to go through them.

My name is Vanessa Anselmi and I am 32 years old. In April 2009, at the age of 28, my life was following a path that I thought was completely ordinary. I had a job that I was passionate about in the field of construction as a house painter, I owned a house, I had a spouse whom I loved deeply and I was about to experience one of the most beautiful moments of my life: becoming a mother. It was during this pivotal period that everything changed.

During my delivery, the pediatrician noticed that I was very short of breath and that my fingers had an unusual rounded shape. These signs raised concerns. After a series of tests, the diagnosis was made: cystic fibrosis.

Me? At my age?

Already weakened by the death of my father a few months earlier and by the emotional intensity of the birth, I now had to deal with a serious and degenerative disease. My FEV1 was then 56%. It all got mixed up in my head. The question “why me? ” kept coming back.

At that point in my life it was all about my baby. I was wondering if I would be able to raise him, how long I would be there for him, if I would live long enough to see him grow. The fear of dying crept in insidiously, especially for someone who had spent 28 years believing that she would age normally. I even came to feel strange anger at old people, as if I was mad at them for being able to go so far in life.

Accepting the disease was all the more difficult because my childhood had been perfectly normal: no symptoms, no treatment, lots of sport. Nothing, absolutely nothing, foreshadowed such a diagnosis. However, looking back on some memories — my particular fingers, that little boy at school who talked about cystic fibrosis — I now realize that the signs may have been there, discreet, ignored.

That year, my mind was overwhelmed by illness. Even in the most tender moments with my baby, my thoughts kept coming back to it. I was happy and deeply sad at the same time. When I had to give my child a sweat test, waiting for the results was one of the most trying times in my life. Fifteen minutes that seemed endless to me. The negative result was a huge relief.

Despite the constant presence of my loved ones, I felt alone. I didn't want pity or a different look. I then started to research the disease extensively. My background in animal health allowed me to understand medical terms, but some reading gave rise to even more anxiety, especially the fear of developing bacteria that are resistant to antibiotics.

The storm

Six months after the diagnosis, my condition deteriorated sharply. My FEV1 went down to 27% and I was hospitalized several times. A severe drug reaction (DRESS) affected my kidneys and liver. That year, I had five hospitalizations. My baby was barely one year old. I was afraid that he would forget me, that he would no longer recognize me.

Anger, fear, and acceptance followed one another. However, despite everything, I made a conscious choice: Don't let illness define me. I had two options — to sink or to get up. I chose to fight, to stay positive, to continue to love life.

Then came the announcement of a possible lung transplant, barely a year after the diagnosis. The shock was huge. Fortunately, a change in treatment allowed for a gradual improvement in my lung function. My FEV1 recovered, the transplant was able to be postponed and hope returned.

Gradually, I resumed my sports activities, my treatments rigorously, and above all, I learned to Living differently. The illness forced me to slow down, to observe, to enjoy the present moment. I was surprised to see the sky, the trees, the light, as if I was discovering the beauty of the world for the first time.

Today, hospital visits are less burdensome. I feel surrounded by a human and caring team. There are days when I almost forget about the illness, when I feel exactly the same as before. And when my son says to me: “Mom, you are the most beautiful in the world”, I know why I keep fighting.

I have confidence in research. I have confidence in life. Above all, I learned that even obstacles that seem insurmountable can become paths of profound transformation.

Vanessa Anselmi's testimony

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