How APF is Helping Me Walk Again

This guest post was written by Ibrahim Rashid, a member of the APF Leadership Council and graduate student at the University of Chicago.

On May 5th, I suddenly lost the ability to walk. I am a 24 year old COVID Long Hauler, who has dealt with chronic fatigue, heart and breathing issues ever since I contracted the virus during my first quarter of graduate school. My primary care physician (PCP) was puzzled by my condition, and sent me to the Emergency Room. I was there for nine hours, being wheelchaired around the hospital to draw blood, before being placed in a bed. By the end of the night, doctors couldn’t explain what was happening to me, and told me to just go home and rest.

I was frustrated, exhausted, angry, confused, and demoralized. I could barely move around my apartment. I was so weak that things like going to the bathroom felt impossible to do. I felt broken. 

The next day, my PCP told me that I needed to find a neurologist. The post-COVID clinics at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and the University of Chicago’s Medical Center were giving me appointments two months out. That wasn’t soon enough. I needed to see a doctor as soon as possible to figure out what was wrong with me.

Ibrahim Rashid

“In the last week, I fell into the darkest, and deepest hole of my life. While wallowing in pain, I realized that in life, no one can make our decisions for us, but ourselves. ”

In a moment of vulnerability and desperation, I opened the American Pakistan Foundation’s community Slack and wrote:

“@channel Figured I'd tap this deep network for a personal matter - As of Wednesday, I've suddenly lost the ability to walk, and spent the last few days in the ER / jumping through doctors appointments. 

Everything looks structurally fine, but I'm now in a wheelchair, and can stand with much difficulty. I’m currently struggling to find a Neurologist who can see me.  Appointments are booked 2 months out. 

Does anyone have any leads? Thanks all for your help, and keep me in your duas this Ramadan.”

I shared my number in a subsequent message, and within an hour, my phone was blowing up. 

An APF member got in touch with Dr. Nasar Qureshi, the chair of the APF Board of Directors, who put the three of us on a conference call. Dr. Quereshi connected me with a doctor in my area. Shamila N. Chaudhary, APF’s president, and several members of the community called and messaged, offering their assistance and solidarity. 

“While our paths are ours to walk alone, we can have others trim the grass, clear the path, shoulder our burden, and throw us a lifeline. APF did that for me. ”

Another APF Member reached out to her dad, who used to teach medicine in Karachi, who reached out to a former student, who knew a neurologist in Chicago. I spoke with him that night, and had my first neurology appointment lined up three days later. I now have several MRIs scheduled for the coming week. 

In the last week, I fell into the darkest, and deepest hole of my life. While wallowing in pain, I realized that in life, no one can make our decisions for us, but ourselves.

No one can summon the will for me to live; only I can do that. No one can lend their strength. I have to find it myself. No one can climb out of the darkness for me, but me.

But that doesn’t mean we’re alone. While our paths are ours to walk alone, we can have others trim the grass, clear the path, shoulder our burden, and throw us a lifeline. APF did that for me. When I couldn't do anything but focus on my basic survival, the APF community mobilized, eased my burden, helped me emerge out of my hole, and light a path forward. 

I have a long, uncertain road ahead, filled with tests, rehabilitation, and therapy, on top of my graduate degree and job with a community bank. My walking ability changes by the day. Last week I was in a wheelchair. Yesterday I was in crutches. Today, I can walk unassisted, but with much difficulty. It’s a start.

As I stare down this uncertain road, I get filled with fear. The voice in my head tells me to shut down, drop out of my masters degree, quit my job, and close off from my loved ones. But then I remember that if I fall, there are people who will catch me. Members of the APF community will catch me.

So I silence that voice inside my head, and keep moving forward, eagerly awaiting the day I will walk again.