By K. Monroe Carter/ Permission Granted by Katina Rankin
This article is part of an ongoing Stroke & Patient Advocacy series documenting Katina Rankin’s personal experience navigating Mississippi’s healthcare system.
My mother used to say, “A hit dog will holler.” You get that if you’re from the country.
Some of the comments from nurses under the article I ‘tapped’ out with my weaker hand tell the story. Yes, “tapped”.
I was known as the person who fought for the little guy in my profession. It wasn’t the popular side to be on. But all of us know right from wrong—period.
I’m not going to stop tapping or speaking my truth. When patients become advocates, they often do so out of necessity—not choice. They step into the role because their pain, neglect, or mistreatment demands a voice, and silence feels like surrender. But in speaking up, they trade rest for resistance. The energy that should go toward healing is instead poured into phone calls, emails, meetings, and policy discussions. Their bodies are recovering, but their minds are not. Their minds are on guard—constantly defending, explaining, and proving what should already be believed. Advocacy becomes both survival and sacrifice.
What few realize is that being a patient advocate can come at a cost. Those who dare to speak the truth about their experiences are often labeled “difficult,” “angry,” or “noncompliant.” Instead of being seen as brave, they are viewed as burdensome. Their legitimate pain becomes politicized, their testimony scrutinized. In fighting for dignity and change, they are forced to relive the very trauma they seek to prevent for others. The system rarely makes room for the duality of being both wounded and wise.
Yet these advocates—though often misunderstood—are the backbone of reform. They bring visibility to what’s hidden and humanity to what’s overlooked. But healing, for them, is complicated. It’s delayed by the fight and dimmed by the labels placed upon them. Still, they press forward, knowing that their courage might spare another patient the same suffering. It’s a quiet kind of heroism—one that bleeds and heals at the same time.
I’m that #typing, #disabled #storyteller.
Now, I must rest to fight another day—for my life and for patients.
Katina Rankin is a stroke survivor, journalist, author, and founder of Katina’s Klassroom, a nonprofit literacy initiative in Simpson County, Mississippi, dedicated to empowering children and families through reading, equity, food security, and community healing.
#SheNeverStops
#FightForTheUnderdog
#AdvocateForPatients
Part II is still coming.
#Tired
#ButMoreSickThanTired
