Help Support Vanessa's Space Adventure!
Donation protected
My name is Vanessa Matelski, and I'm an artist, writer, and chronic illness advocate. Last week, I received a surprise email from none other than NASA. After filling out an online application—and never in a million years thinking I would ever be chosen—I have been invited to attend the Orion Ascent Abort Test at Kennedy Space Center, July 1-2, as part of #NASASocial! The Orion Ascent Abort Test is part of NASA’s plan to make sure that Orion—the spacecraft that will carry the first woman and next man to the moon—is as safe as it can be. Specifically, this test is to determine whether or not the Launch Abort System will function as planned and successfully steer the crew module to safety, should an emergency situation arise when Orion takes off. This test is crucial to keeping our future astronauts safe as space exploration continues. During this event, I will be given press access, along with other social media users, and I’ll be able to talk to NASA scientists along with their social media team. I’ll broadcast what I learn and what I see on my own social media channels—and I am, as the kids say, over the moon!
Space has always been an obsession of mine, and that obsession has only grown in recent years. I love space—heck, I’m 25 years old and I have glow in the dark stars on my ceiling in the shapes of constellations—and when I visited the Kennedy Space Center last year, I kind of wanted to live there. I dream about going to space someday, despite the numerous hurdles in my way.
The biggest one being that I’m disabled.
I have a condition called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome—POTS for short—which is a form of dysautonomia. What it means, in simplest terms, is that all the things my body is supposed to do automatically, it either does improperly or not at all. POTS comes with a myriad of symptoms, and many seem to stem from one central issue: my blood does not circulate properly. When I stand up, my heart rate skyrockets, and my blood pressure often drops, because my body has more or less forgotten how to work against gravity and actually circulate my blood. This creates intense fatigue, a lot of dizziness, palpitations, and brain fog, along with pain and even nausea. POTS affects approximately 1 in every 100 teenagers, and counting adults, POTS affects between 1-3 million people in the US alone.
Including, sometimes, astronauts.
As part of the many treatments I have tried, I’ve done a lot of physical therapy—but my physical therapy came in the form of an exercise regimen called the Levine Protocol. The cool thing is that the Levine Protocol was actually created by Dr. Benjamin Levine for astronauts returning to Earth after long spaceflights. When astronauts returned to Earth’s gravity after extended periods in microgravity, they exhibited a lot of POTS-like symptoms—because their bodies had more or less forgotten how to circulate blood properly. This led to symptoms that largely parallel mine, and changes in the way astronauts spend their time in space (they exercise a lot more now). The Levine Protocol has since been used by countless POTS patients, often times with great effect.
It was this information that grew my obsession with space to cosmic proportions, because I can’t help but wonder—what would my symptoms be like if I went to space? What new medical discoveries would we make while I was up there? What information about the human body would be unlocked? Astronauts aboard the International Space Station are constantly doing medical research—on themselves and on samples sent up from Earth—and the discoveries made there have had lasting impacts on healthcare here on Earth. And there’s still so much to learn! I wonder, what could we learn from sending someone like me to the ISS?
Obviously, this trip wouldn’t answer those questions. But it would give me the opportunity to open up that kind of dialogue with actual NASA scientists and to raise awareness and educate others on a much larger scale. This is a huge, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—but it’s an opportunity for so much more.
It’s an opportunity to start a conversation—an opportunity to represent the chronic illness community—an opportunity to show the world (and worlds beyond) that we have a place in space, too.
Have I mentioned yet that I’m excited?
Because of my conditions, I can’t realistically travel on my own, so my grandparents have offered to drive me from small town Northern Michigan to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. According to GoogleMaps, it’s 1,399 miles of travel each way (if we take the toll roads). We plan to start our trip on June 28th, with three days driving there and then three days driving back, plus two days at the Kennedy Space Center. There’s also the potential that the launch could be delayed due to weather, and we need to be prepared for that event. All told, $1,500 will cover the necessary costs along with giving us a little wiggle room if the launch is delayed.
Every donation makes a difference to reaching this goal, and no donation is too small to matter. Three dollars covers a gallon of gas, and that gets us 25 miles closer to our destination! Altogether, a little goes a long way.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this—and I look forward to updating you all during this exciting adventure!
Space has always been an obsession of mine, and that obsession has only grown in recent years. I love space—heck, I’m 25 years old and I have glow in the dark stars on my ceiling in the shapes of constellations—and when I visited the Kennedy Space Center last year, I kind of wanted to live there. I dream about going to space someday, despite the numerous hurdles in my way.
The biggest one being that I’m disabled.
I have a condition called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome—POTS for short—which is a form of dysautonomia. What it means, in simplest terms, is that all the things my body is supposed to do automatically, it either does improperly or not at all. POTS comes with a myriad of symptoms, and many seem to stem from one central issue: my blood does not circulate properly. When I stand up, my heart rate skyrockets, and my blood pressure often drops, because my body has more or less forgotten how to work against gravity and actually circulate my blood. This creates intense fatigue, a lot of dizziness, palpitations, and brain fog, along with pain and even nausea. POTS affects approximately 1 in every 100 teenagers, and counting adults, POTS affects between 1-3 million people in the US alone.
Including, sometimes, astronauts.
As part of the many treatments I have tried, I’ve done a lot of physical therapy—but my physical therapy came in the form of an exercise regimen called the Levine Protocol. The cool thing is that the Levine Protocol was actually created by Dr. Benjamin Levine for astronauts returning to Earth after long spaceflights. When astronauts returned to Earth’s gravity after extended periods in microgravity, they exhibited a lot of POTS-like symptoms—because their bodies had more or less forgotten how to circulate blood properly. This led to symptoms that largely parallel mine, and changes in the way astronauts spend their time in space (they exercise a lot more now). The Levine Protocol has since been used by countless POTS patients, often times with great effect.
It was this information that grew my obsession with space to cosmic proportions, because I can’t help but wonder—what would my symptoms be like if I went to space? What new medical discoveries would we make while I was up there? What information about the human body would be unlocked? Astronauts aboard the International Space Station are constantly doing medical research—on themselves and on samples sent up from Earth—and the discoveries made there have had lasting impacts on healthcare here on Earth. And there’s still so much to learn! I wonder, what could we learn from sending someone like me to the ISS?
Obviously, this trip wouldn’t answer those questions. But it would give me the opportunity to open up that kind of dialogue with actual NASA scientists and to raise awareness and educate others on a much larger scale. This is a huge, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—but it’s an opportunity for so much more.
It’s an opportunity to start a conversation—an opportunity to represent the chronic illness community—an opportunity to show the world (and worlds beyond) that we have a place in space, too.
Have I mentioned yet that I’m excited?
Because of my conditions, I can’t realistically travel on my own, so my grandparents have offered to drive me from small town Northern Michigan to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. According to GoogleMaps, it’s 1,399 miles of travel each way (if we take the toll roads). We plan to start our trip on June 28th, with three days driving there and then three days driving back, plus two days at the Kennedy Space Center. There’s also the potential that the launch could be delayed due to weather, and we need to be prepared for that event. All told, $1,500 will cover the necessary costs along with giving us a little wiggle room if the launch is delayed.
Every donation makes a difference to reaching this goal, and no donation is too small to matter. Three dollars covers a gallon of gas, and that gets us 25 miles closer to our destination! Altogether, a little goes a long way.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this—and I look forward to updating you all during this exciting adventure!
Organizer
Vanessa Matelski
Organizer
Petoskey, MI