Women's Health Perspective: Arielle Dance's Blood Health Story
Arielle (a Black woman with a short hair cut, glasses, and light blue top) in a garden of wildflowers. Courtesy, Arielle Dance
This first hand account was originally published by the Society for Women’s Health Research in May 2025.
Is this an asthma attack? Gas? Back spasm? Why can’t I lay down comfortably?
In my early twenties I survived two pulmonary embolism (PE) incidences. I knew about blood clots on the lungs because my mother had survived the experience in 2006, but no doctor warned me that this could happen to me. I confused my chest pain, shortness of breath, and pain in my back as an asthma attack. I couldn’t lay down flat and my inhaler did not resolve the symptoms. Luckily, my mother spotted the symptoms and took action.
One month before moving to New England for graduate school, I was lying in the critical care unit, tangled in tubes and weeping. At 21, I thought I was invincible. Despite having five previous surgeries for endometriosis, I was confused and frustrated about how my body could betray me. I was supposed to be thriving—dancing at bars, running marathons, traveling across nations if I wanted to. Yet, there I was– oxygen in my nose, blood thinners dripping into my arm, and withdrawing from birth control, which may have been a culprit for landing me in hospital.
I will admit that I was resentful and sometimes I still am. Even with a history of clotting in my family, taking birth control pills, and having a recent surgery (all of which are risk factors for blood clots[AD1] [AD2] ), no doctor had a serious conversation about how I could reduce my risk for PE. In addition to these serious risk factors, I am Black/African American and considered obese. According to the National Blood Clot Alliance, (NBCA) “Black or African American people have up to 60% higher rates of life-threatening venous blood than white people”. In their guide for women, NBCA also shares that obesity and family history of clotting disorders while taking estrogen can increase risk as well.
Needless to say, I was furious four years later when I was diagnosed with another PE after a cross-country flight during my doctoral studies. Though I was more prepared for the hospital stay and medication regimen, there’s little preparation for the possibility of dying. As a young adult, I was facing a near death experience and needed to decide if I was going to choose bitterness or gratitude. I chose gratitude. I spent my days in the hospital meditating and practicing guided imagery between my partner brushing my teeth, my mother brushing my hair, and me learning to give myself anticoagulant injections in my belly. This is not to say I did not experience sadness or disbelief, but I needed to allow my appreciation for survival to outweigh those emotions.
How Has It Shaped Me?
Nearly 10 years since my second incident and hospitalization, I still question why I was chosen to live. When one in four people who experience thrombosis related illnesses die, why was I one of the people who lived – twice? In my search for an answer, I find gratitude and purpose. I imagine that I am still alive so that I can find some meaning in this painful situation and educate other people about their risks.
Since my PEs, I have turned my attention to advocacy and awareness. I’m an ambassador for NBCA and World Thrombosis Day campaign where I speak openly about my survivorship. I’ve served on panels, participated in media appearances, hosted monthly virtual forums for patient Q&As, and fundraised for resources.
Although my PEs are not the only chronic illness diagnosis I have received, they were the ones that made me realize my life is fragile. After living with the side effects of my PEs for years, I recognized that I was living in a new version of my body— a disabled version. In conjunction with the debilitating effects of endometriosis and adenomyosis, the chronic symptoms from my PE have limited my breathing, walking, and activities I used to cherish.
Most recently, when I had surgery for endometriosis and adenomyosis last year, I had to switch from oral anticoagulants (blood thinners) to injectable anticoagulants in order to avoid blood clots during surgical care. The surgery was necessary to remove disease and improve my quality of life and the medication was necessary to keep me alive during surgery. Balancing the care for both conditions at once reminded me to think of my body holistically and not in parts.
Moving Forward
I am on blood thinners for the rest of my life as result of multiple clots. I continue to cope with the physical and emotional impacts of my illness by using guided imagery and meditation. Imagining my lungs taking in fresh air and expanding to their fullest potential (even when they can’t) helps empower me. Visualizing warm healing light swirling through my body helps me feel mended and whole. I work with a therapist regularly and discuss what it means to be a disabled adult navigating the expectations of loved ones and society as well as my self-imposed pressures. I always remember, “No.” is a complete sentence when I’m not feeling up for an activity and to be gentle with myself.