My Journey: A Story of Survival, Strength and the Fight for Accountability

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and not necessarily those of Breaking Belize News.

CONTRIBUTED: In January 2025, my life changed in ways I could never have imagined.

I was diagnosed with tumors in my womb while also experiencing several painful personal losses. Before I could properly process one heartbreak, I found myself facing another. I underwent treatment twice, including chemotherapy that was physically and emotionally devastating. It was a horrible experience, but I fought through it with the hope that better days were ahead.

In September 2025, I had my womb removed. I believed that perhaps the worst was finally behind me. Unfortunately, another frightening medical diagnosis soon followed.

Doctors discovered three herniated discs in my cervical spine. I was told that the compression was extremely severe—approximately 90 percent against my spinal cord—and that I urgently needed surgery.

I trusted a doctor friend who arranged for a neurosurgeon from another country to come to Belize to perform the surgery along with him. Wanting to remain close to my home and family, I decided to have the operation in Belize.

It became a decision that changed my life forever.

I woke up from surgery paralyzed.

The neurosurgeon left Belize the following morning. Another doctor examined me and assured me that my movement would eventually return. After only a few days, I was sent home because I was told that nothing else could be done for me except therapy.

I had to be transported home in an ambulance.

A hospital bed was loaned to me, and my nightmare continued within the walls of my own home. I was completely helpless and unable to perform even the most basic tasks for myself. My family and friends became my hands, my strength and my support. They cared for me around the clock, along with a wonderful nurse whose compassion helped carry me through some of my darkest days.

Those months were cruel.

Every day demanded more strength than I knew I possessed. I waited for the recovery I had been promised. I hoped, prayed and endured the pain, fear, frustration and humiliation of suddenly losing my independence.

From the first week after my surgery in November, I began paying for daily therapy. The cost has been enormous, but I continued because I was determined to regain as much movement and independence as possible.

Three months after the surgery, I still saw no meaningful improvement on my right side. Even more painfully, I had neither seen nor heard from the neurosurgeon again.

I knew I needed answers, so I travelled out of the country to seek another medical opinion. During that follow-up, I was told something deeply disturbing: I should have undergone another MRI approximately one month after the procedure.

No one had told me.

I arranged to have the MRI that very same day. Twenty-four hours later, the results came back—and they were horrifying.

The MRI showed significant damage to my spine. I was told that the original operation had not been completed and that there was still pressure on my spinal cord. I now needed another surgery if I was to have a chance of walking and recovering further.

Desperate to understand the full extent of my condition, I sent the results to doctors in the United States and to several specialists in Guatemala. Their conclusions were consistent: there was irreversible damage to my spine, and no one could say how much recovery I would ultimately achieve.
My second spinal surgery was in March by an amazing neurosurgeon in Guatemala City.

Almost a year later, I am still paying for daily therapy. Through determination, prayer, professional care and the unwavering support of my family and friends, I have made progress. I am now walking with a cane—but my journey is far from over.

I still require another major spinal surgery in an attempt to relieve the remaining pressure and address the damage caused by what I believe was incomplete and negligent medical care. Each spinal operation can cost more than $50,000, not including travel, accommodation, therapy, medication and the loss of income and independence.

The physical damage has been devastating, but so have the emotional and financial consequences.

Why are patients left to carry these burdens alone? Why are doctors not required to provide proper follow-up care? Why was I sent home without the necessary testing, monitoring or answers? Why have I never heard from the neurosurgeon again? Who is responsible for the errors made medical doctors from abroad? Most importantly, why are medical professionals whose actions—or lack of action—cause life-changing harm not being held accountable by the Ministry of Health?

Something must be done.

No patient should enter an operating room expecting healing and wake up to a lifetime of disability without answers, follow-up care or accountability. No family should have to watch someone they love suffer while wondering whether the outcome could have been prevented.

Now, I am preparing to face what I pray will be my final surgery. I am afraid, but I am also stronger, wiser and more determined than I was before. I share my story not because I want pity, but because I want awareness, accountability and change.

To everyone reading this: please seek a second opinion. Seek a third and a fourth if necessary. Ask questions. Request copies of your medical records and imaging. Research your surgeon and the facility where your procedure will take place. Make sure there is a clear plan for follow-up care, and never be afraid to speak up when something does not feel right.

Your life, your health and your future are worth protecting.

This is not the journey I chose, but it is the journey I am surviving. I will continue fighting—for my recovery, for answers and for every patient who deserves safe, responsible and accountable medical care.

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