On a brisk fall morning in 2013, I was called in to Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City for an emergency checkup. Moments later, I sat surrounded by piercing silence and the cold empty white walls of the examination room. My heart rate quickened. Chilling possibilities slowly grew louder in my head, deafening me. I was alone.
"Mr. Doueck..." I heard a distant male voice say, "It seems you have been diagnosed with a rare disease called PH. There is no cure, but if all goes well, you have another five years to live."