Life is a story we embrace daily and learn to cherish
Along the way, I was forced to confront life's fragility
“There is no table of contents in the Book of Life. We don’t know if we’re at the beginning of a new chapter, or the end of a story. Which is why we must be grateful every time the page turns.” — From the 2016 movie “War Dogs”
Life is a book. Each day is a page, years become a chapter, and decades a volume. We have two defining days: the day we’re born and the day we die. The days in between are our novel.
People speak about “the dash of life” (from Linda Ellis’ poem “The Dash“), which highlights a person’s accomplishments and life lived. Often, we’re unaware if a decision to go right or left alters our trajectory. The “what could have been” goes unnoticed. The consequences aren’t recognized until you read your own story.
When given the option after college of moving to Florida with my family or staying in New York, I chose to move, a decision that was life-changing for me. Moving brought my children, Drew and Harrison, undoubtedly the most significant outcome of my life.
Reminders of a life lived
My book has 52 chapters, many of which are redundant. Looking at the volumes in my book of life, I can pinpoint my most significant decade: the 1990s.
Notable milestones marked that decade: I graduated from high school in 1991 and college in 1995. I got married in 1997 and had my kids in 1999 and 2001. The ’90s were by far the greatest era for me, even with my diagnosis of hypoparathyroidism in 1998.
In high school, my parents suggested I do something to stand out on college applications. They encouraged me to run for the historian position on the student council. I won. As historian, I documented the 1990-1991 school year. Gratefully, I attended all events, camera in hand, which made my senior year memorable. At year’s end, I presented a scrapbook with all the photos and memories. It was phenomenal, and I wish I could see it today.
Being historian encouraged me to document my life. I take photographs daily to remind me of what I’ve done. Brain fog is a symptom of hypoparathyroidism, and these pictures are a reminder of things I’ve forgotten.
I downloaded the app Timehop on my iPhone, which helps me make memories and capture things I’ve done, places I’ve visited, and people I’ve seen on a certain day for almost two decades. The memories bring a smile and sometimes a tear. They’re a daily reminder of my adventures, obstacles, and progress. They’re a reminder of a life lived, not one that’s simply passed me by.
I’ve lived my life to the fullest for over 19,000 days, with no regrets. While reading the chapters of my life, I observe that I either lived through or learned from my experiences, never realizing that one day would be life-changing. On July 10, I opened Timehop. There was a screenshot of a 2015 Facebook post of mine, and I realized that if I could have a do-over for one day of my life, it would be that day.
Exactly one decade ago, on July 10, 2015, I started treatment for my hypoparathyroidism with Natpara (parathyroid hormone), a treatment that’s since been discontinued. At the time, I wrote, “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.” Little did I know of the consequences and the roller coaster ride that would follow from that one decision.
A Facebook post Bari Vapnek shared on the day she started taking Natpara in 2015. (Screenshot by Bari Vapnek)
I was on Natpara for 18 months. One of my most outstanding achievements happened during that time. I biked across the Golden Gate Bridge with Harrison, something I never dreamed I could do. It was a magical feeling being myself again, until I had a life-altering calcium crash after missing three doses of the medication.
Nothing compares to the vibrancy I felt while taking Natpara, a feeling I still long for. It was like a fog had lifted from my mind, and I had the energy and clarity to engage with life fully. I never completely recovered from that calcium crash. Like an addict chasing a high, I wish I could have Natpara again, but I’m hopeful for new treatments on the horizon.
The volume of my life from 2015 to 2025 has been challenging. I was on the brink of death, which forced me to confront life’s fragility and the importance of cherishing every moment. Along the way, I lost my dad, my marriage, my best friend, my dog, and my health. I can’t erase the days that have passed, but I will continue to spread my wings of hope. The future is uncertain, but I dream of feeling vibrant again.
Life is a story we embrace daily. My remaining chapters are yet to be written, but I hope all of our chapters are filled with happy memories and a future brimming with possibilities and vitality.
Note: Hypoparathyroidism News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hypoparathyroidism News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hypoparathyroidism.
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