Copyright AL.com
This is a guest opinion column One year ago, I was living the life I had always envisioned. I was a 25-year-old speech-language pathologist with a master’s degree, a job I loved at Achievement Pediatric Therapies in Hartselle, and a growing sense of independence. I had worked hard to get here, earning my bachelor’s from Auburn University and my master’s from Alabama A&M in 2023 while balancing work and clinical responsibilities. I was finally helping Alabama’s children find their voices. Then, just days after the Iron Bowl and Thanksgiving last year, everything changed. What began as a routine medical procedure turned into a fight for my life. A severe infection led to sepsis and septic shock. I spent weeks in a coma and months in the ICU as doctors worked to save me. When I woke up, I learned that the infection had taken both my hands and both of my legs. I was now a quadruple amputee. No one can prepare you for that kind of news, especially at age 25. I went from living independently and working full-time to relearning everything from scratch: how to eat, how to write, how to walk. My motivation through every setback was simple: I wanted to get back to my patients, my coworkers, and the career that gave me purpose. Throughout my recovery, I have been incredibly grateful for the outpouring of support from family, friends, and the local community. Fundraisers hosted by groups like Relentless Positivity Fitness and Fitness 300 have helped cover some medical and daily expenses, and the encouragement I’ve received has lifted my spirits when the journey has felt overwhelming. Today, my goal is finally within reach, but I still have a long way to go. I’ve completed months of rehabilitation and begun walking on prosthetic legs. But to fully return to work, I need upper-limb prosthetics—specifically, multi-articulating myoelectric hands that would allow me to perform the everyday functions I once took for granted. Unfortunately, the cost of these devices is staggering, and most insurance plans refuse to cover them, often labeling them “experimental” or “not medically necessary.” That phrase—“not medically necessary”—is one I’ll never forget. For someone who built a career around communication, the ability to gesture, hold a stylus, or flip a therapy card isn’t a luxury; it’s essential. Yet, because of the way most insurance systems are structured, people like me are left to fundraise for the devices that make independent living and full employment possible. October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month, a time to highlight the importance of inclusive workplaces and access to opportunity. For me, it’s also a reminder that no matter how determined or hard-working a person is, systemic barriers can stand in the way of recovery. My employer has been incredibly supportive, but until I can access the technology that will allow me to perform my job fully, I can’t return to the career I’ve spent years building. That’s why I launched a GoFundMe campaign, “Let’s Help Celeste Get Back to Work,” to raise funds for the prosthetic hands I need and to bring awareness to others facing similar struggles. Every donation and share helps me take another step toward independence—and helps spark a larger conversation about how we can fix a system that fails too many people living with disabilities. Next year, I’ll turn 26, which means I’ll lose access to my parents’ insurance plan. That milestone adds new urgency to this fight. I’m doing everything I can to ensure that when that day comes, I’ll have the equipment and support I need to live—and work—on my own terms. I’ve always been determined, and I still believe in a future where I’m back in the classroom, helping Alabama children find their voices. I just need the tools to get there. Thank you for letting me share my story.
