When they launched from Kennedy Space Center, the world began to change.

The farther they traveled, the smaller it became, until eventually, it was just a small, floating orb in the center of their spacecraft window.

It’s hard to imagine what that feels like. Watching everything you know—every place, every person—shrink into something distant.

After all, what could we possibly have in common with four people orbiting the Moon?

More than you might think.

Because while most of us will never experience that kind of distance, many of us know what it feels like when our world suddenly gets smaller.

And that’s something Hannah understands better than most.

For Hannah, the unknown didn’t come in the form of a mission.

It came in the form of her own body.

Before everything changed, her world was wide.

She was always outside, walking trails, exploring state parks, heading to the beach. Movement wasn’t something she had to think about. It was automatic. It was freedom.

“I don’t think I realized before how much I loved just being able to get up and go,” she said.

That changed in 2023.

What started as swelling in her knee quickly became something harder to explain. The pain didn’t fade. It spread. Her leg began to swell in ways that didn’t make sense, and the answers she was given didn’t quite fit.

At first, it was treated as something routine. An injury. Overuse. Something that would improve with time. But it didn’t.

It took nearly a year of appointments, misdiagnoses, and pushing for answers before Hannah was finally diagnosed with a rare vascular condition known as Klippel-Trenaunay Syndrome (KTS). 

Even then, things weren’t straightforward. Genetic testing revealed a mutation associated with Parks-Weber syndrome, placing her in a complicated space between two rare, progressive conditions.

What she did know was this: Her world was getting smaller.

Simple things—standing, walking, getting from one place to another—were no longer automatic. They were calculated, planned, and sometimes avoided altogether.

A seven-minute trip to work became something she couldn’t do on her own.

The independence she once moved through life with started to slip away, piece by piece.

And with it, the ease of everything she used to love.

There’s a kind of grief that comes with that.

Not just for what’s been lost, but for the version of your life you assumed would always be there.

At the same time, the path forward hasn’t been easy.

Treatments led to complications. Medications came with difficult side effects. Insurance denied coverage for therapies her doctors believed could help, simply because her condition is so rare that it isn’t widely understood.

“I’ve watched the condition progress,” Hannah shared. “I’m watching myself deteriorate.”

It would be easy to stop there. But she hasn’t.

“You have to keep going,” she said. “There’s no other option.”

So she’s adapted.

She journals. She creates. She finds moments of quiet where she can. She’s learning how to live in a body that doesn’t always cooperate, and how to hold onto the parts of herself that still feel like her.

And more than anything, she’s fighting to hold onto her independence.

“That’s my whole thing,” she said. “I want to stay independent for as long as I can.”

Because when your world gets smaller, independence becomes everything.

And getting even a small piece of it back can change everything.

That’s where this story begins to shift.

With the support of Chive Charities, Hannah received a mobility scooter and a cooling mattress—two things that might seem simple, but for her, make a real difference day to day.

The scooter means she can get to work. Run errands. Move through her community without having to rely on someone else to get her there.

It gives her some of that independence back.

And the mattress means something just as important: rest. After long days of managing pain, swelling, and the effects of medication, getting quality sleep helps her reset and take on whatever comes next.

These aren’t big, flashy changes. But they matter.

Because when your world gets smaller, even small steps toward getting it back feel big. The total impact was $5,500.

And for Hannah, that’s exactly what this is—her world starting to expand again.

Last week, as the Artemis II crew tore back through Earth’s atmosphere, the world they had left behind came rushing back into view.

It expanded again.

For Hannah, this moment looks different.

Maybe she’s not an astronaut. Maybe she’s not one of the few people to ever explore deep space.

But she is someone who understands what it means to have your world change overnight. What it means to wonder how much of your life might be taken away, and what it takes to keep moving forward anyway.

And now, with a little support, her world is expanding again, too.

After returning to Earth, astronaut Christina Koch said something that stuck:

“I know I haven't learned everything that this journey has yet to teach me,” she said. “But there's one new thing I know, and that is planet Earth: You are a crew.”

That idea feels simple, but it’s true.

We’re not meant to go through hard things alone.

We can be there for people like Hannah, and for anyone who’s reaching for an outstretched hand. Join our crew and help make the world 10% happier by donating one-time or as a subscriber each month. DONATE HERE.

The Breakdown

Question: What did Chive Charities provide Hannah?
Answer: Chive Charities provided Hannah with a mobility scooter and cooling mattress to help restore independence, mobility, and rest.

Question: Who is Hannah?
Answer: Hannah is a recipient supported by Chive Charities who lives with rare progressive vascular conditions impacting her mobility.

Question: What is the message of Hannah’s story?
Answer: Hannah’s story shows that when life gets smaller due to illness or disability, community support can help restore hope and independence.

Question: Why compare Artemis II and Hannah?
Answer: Both stories reflect what it feels like when your world changes—and how it can expand again through resilience and support.