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CHD and the Law: The Heart of a Soldier
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How Facebook Helped Me Get to (Cardiac) Rehab
Not My Average Heart Year
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The opinions expressed by ACHA bloggers and those providing comments on the ACHA Blog are theirs alone, and do not reflect the opinions of the Adult Congenital Heart Association or any employee thereof. ACHA is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the ACHA bloggers.

The contents of this blog are presented for informational purposes only, and should not be substituted for professional advice. Always consult your physicians with your questions and concerns.

By ACHA on 6/5/2013 11:41 AM

By Krista McIlmoil

We all need help sometimes. There are times when we need help with something simple like figuring out how to spell a word correctly, or how to figure out that weird-looking algebraic formula. Then there are times in life when we need a lot of help—when we are feeling sad or lost and need a loved one to help pull us (emotionally) from the rubble.

Because of my CHD, I find that I have several moments when I feel low, but am fortunate enough to have not only supportive friends and family members, but also have great resources at my fingertips to help answer any outstanding questions that may come with my CHD. I recently joined a group on Facebook for women with CHD, my zipper sisters. Before meeting this group of incredible women, I never realized just how many other women there were out there experiencing the same trials and tribulations that I go through every day. It’s important to remember that we are not alone.

By ACHA on 9/10/2012 12:26 PM

By Krista McIlmoil

When I was a kid, I knew I was different. I couldn't run like the other kids, my heart would sometimes beat in a fast, erratic rhythm, and I had a long, skinny scar on my chest. I had a handful of close friends and a great family, but I didn't have anyone who really understood what I went through.

That is, until I met Gabe.

I was scheduled for my second open heart surgery, but the first I would actually remember. I was more mad than scared to be having open heart surgery. I was in the sixth grade and I was missing so much! I would be missing out on the annual sixth grade vs. teachers softball game, the "graduation" Great America trip, and the last day of elementary school.