Hey everyone, this is Antoinette Nicole Erkerd, and I want to share a very personal story time.
This is not an easy story for me to tell.
Even now, when I think about it, I still feel the embarrassment. I still remember the fear, the helplessness, the shame, and the moment I realized I could not protect myself the way I wanted to.
But I also remember something else.
I survived.
I opened my eyes again.
I felt like God gave me another chance.
And that hospital experience became one of the reasons I started Becoming Antoinette.
A few years ago, I was hospitalized with COVID pneumonia, respiratory failure, and carbon dioxide in my blood. When I arrived at the hospital, my oxygen was dangerously low. I was over 450 pounds at the time, and I also had asthma and high blood pressure.
The doctors said I almost died.
I was unconscious. I could not breathe on my own. I woke up in the ICU scared, weak, confused, and unable to fully understand what had happened to me.
Imagine waking up in a hospital bed and not being able to talk.
Imagine being so weak that you can barely move.
Imagine being so sick that your body has to learn how to do basic things again.
That was me.
And as hard as the sickness was, there was another part of that hospital stay that hurt me deeply.
The Nurse Who Made Me Feel Unsafe
For privacy, I am going to call him John.
I want to be clear: I have nothing against male nurses. I have had male nurses before who were kind, respectful, and professional. Nurses do important work, and I respect that deeply.
But with this particular nurse, something felt wrong.
I cannot explain it perfectly. Maybe it was the way he looked at me. Maybe it was how vulnerable I felt after waking up from something traumatic. Maybe my nervous system knew before my words could explain it.
But I knew I felt uncomfortable.
So I said something.
I told him I did not feel comfortable with him being my nurse anymore.
Instead of respecting that, he got angry.
And I was in no position to defend myself. I could barely get out of bed. I was weak, embarrassed, sick, and completely vulnerable.
At that point, I needed help with things I never imagined I would need help with. I needed assistance being cleaned. I was using a bedpan. I was dizzy when I tried to move. My body did not feel like my own.
I felt exposed.
I felt helpless.
And while I was lying there in that condition, this nurse laughed at me.
He called me a “fat ass.”
I still remember how humiliating that felt.
I was already crying because I was embarrassed. I was already ashamed that I needed help. I was already scared because I had just survived something that could have killed me.
Instead of compassion, I was met with cruelty.
He made comments about my size. He made me feel like my body was disgusting. He made me feel like I deserved to be laughed at while I was fighting for my life.
That kind of humiliation does not just disappear.
It stays in your body.
Why I Almost Blamed Myself
One of the hardest parts of this story is that, for a moment, I actually felt bad for him.
That may sound strange, but when you have been through certain things in life, sometimes your first reaction is not anger.
Sometimes it is guilt.
You wonder if you caused it.
You wonder if you should have stayed quiet.
You wonder if having a boundary made you wrong.
I started thinking maybe I had offended him. Maybe I should not have said I was uncomfortable. Maybe I should apologize.
So I considered letting him be my nurse again.
And when I did, he said something like, “That’s right. You should have accepted me back. I’m the best nurse.”
But something inside me said no.
Even though I was weak, scared, embarrassed, and vulnerable, a part of me still knew I deserved to feel safe.
So I asked for another nurse.
That is when things got worse.
I remember trying to write on paper because I could not speak clearly. He came over, grabbed the paper, and ripped it up in my face.
I felt terrified.
At one point, it felt like he almost put his fist near my head.
Then there was my food.
I was eating, and he took it and spit in it. He said something like, “I bet you don’t want it now.”
That moment was horrible.
I was not just sick.
I was not just weak.
I was being treated like I did not matter.
Security had to come. He was removed from the room. I do not know exactly what happened after that, but I know they took him away from me.
And even after all of that, I still wondered if I caused it.
That is the part I want people to understand.
Sometimes when you have been hurt before, your body learns to blame itself first.
But now I know the truth.
I was not wrong for wanting to feel safe.
Being Vulnerable in a Hospital Bed Changed Me
There are moments in life that strip you down completely.
That hospital stay was one of them.
I was lying in a bed, unable to care for myself the way I normally would. A nurse had to clean me. I was crying because I felt embarrassed and exposed. I felt like I had lost every bit of dignity.
And then to be laughed at in that condition?
It hurt deeply.
I remember my heart racing. The machines were going off. My blood pressure and heart rate were reacting to the stress. I was already sick, and the way I was being treated made everything worse.
Thankfully, there were also good people there.
The nurse who was over him stayed with me afterward. She treated me with more kindness. She seemed to understand that, in my condition, stress like that could have seriously affected me.
After I was moved to the main floor, I was treated much better. People were kinder. I felt more human again.
But the experience with him stayed with me.
It taught me how much compassion matters.
Especially when someone is sick.
Especially when someone is overweight.
Especially when someone is disabled.
Especially when someone is scared.
People in vulnerable positions deserve dignity.
They deserve respect.
They deserve to be treated like human beings.
I Was Over 450 Pounds — And I Survived
At that time, I believe I was around 450 pounds, maybe more.
I know some people may judge that.
But weight is not always as simple as people make it seem.
My life included depression, PTSD, childhood trauma, bullying, learning disabilities, mental health struggles, back surgery at 19, asthma, high blood pressure, and emotional pain I did not always know how to process.
Food became comfort.
Weight became a prison.
My body carried more than pounds.
It carried pain.
And when I got sick with COVID pneumonia, that pain almost became the end of my story.
But it was not the end.
I made it.
Today, I am around 254 pounds.
I still have more to go. I am not pretending I am at the finish line. I have stopped and started many times.
But I also know this:
I survived something that could have killed me.
I lost a lot of weight.
I kept going.
And I am still here.
That matters.
The Moment I Believe I Was Spiritually Born Again
There is another part of this story that may sound strange to some people.
But I am going to share it because it is part of my truth.
While I was in the hospital, I felt my grandmother Rosie with me.
Her name was Rosie Lee Erkerd, and she has passed away. But in that hospital room, I felt her presence.
The doctors said I almost died, and spiritually, I felt like I was close to the edge.
I remember my grandmother saying something like:
“Baby, it’s not your time. You must go back, Nikki.”
Nikki is one of the names my family calls me.
Then I remember hearing a countdown.
Three.
Two.
Baby, open your eyes.
And I opened my eyes.
I also felt my dog Duncan, who has passed away too. It felt like he was licking me, almost like he was saying, “You’re back.”
When I woke up, I heard, “Happy birthday. Happy birthday.”
This happened in April, and my actual birthday is in March.
So no, it was not my birthday on paper.
But spiritually, it felt like one.
It felt like I was born again.
Not in a perfect, everything-is-fixed kind of way.
But in a “God gave me another chance” kind of way.
Something happened in that hospital that changed me.
I cannot explain every detail perfectly.
But I know I did not come out the same person.
The Vision of Little Antoinette
In the hospital, I also had a vision of myself as a little girl.
This part is emotional for me.
I saw Little Antoinette.
She was scared.
And I spoke to her.
I told her:
“You are somebody.”
“You are somebody.”
“You are somebody.”
As I said those words, I saw her rise. She got bigger. She became stronger.
It felt like God was showing me that the little girl inside me still needed to be loved.
She still needed to be seen.
She still needed someone to tell her she mattered.
And maybe that someone had to be me.
That moment became part of the deeper meaning behind Becoming Antoinette.
Because Becoming Antoinette is not just about weight loss.
It is not just about healing.
It is not just about business, branding, coaching, or content.
It is about becoming the woman I was always meant to be.
It is about going back for the parts of me that were scared, ashamed, silenced, and broken.
It is about telling that little girl, “You are somebody.”
And meaning it.
Why I Started Becoming Antoinette
I have been through a lot.
PTSD.
Depression.
Seasonal depression.
Childhood trauma.
Bullying.
Learning disabilities.
Mental health struggles.
Moments where I did not know if I was going to make it.
I have had hallucinations. I have had audio and visual symptoms. I have had times when my mind and body felt like too much to carry.
I have been laughed at.
I have been humiliated.
I have been underestimated.
I have started over again and again.
But I am still here.
And I do not say that to sound cocky or conceited.
I say it because I believe I am here for a reason.
I believe God gave me another chance.
And if my story can help even one person feel less alone, then sharing it is worth it.
Not everyone will like me.
Not everyone will understand me.
Not everyone will believe everything I have been through.
And that is okay.
But someone out there may need to hear this.
Someone may be lying in a hospital bed feeling ashamed of their body.
Someone may be overweight and scared they are too far gone.
Someone may have been mistreated by a person who should have protected them.
Someone may still be blaming themselves for another person’s cruelty.
Someone may feel like their life is over.
And I want to say this:
Your story is not over.
You are not disgusting because you needed help.
You are not weak because you were scared.
You are not less human because your body struggled.
You are not a burden because you survived.
You are worthy of kindness.
You are worthy of dignity.
You are worthy of another chance.
What This Experience Taught Me
That hospital experience taught me lessons I will never forget.
It taught me that life can change in a moment.
It taught me that health is not something to take for granted.
It taught me that the way we treat vulnerable people matters.
It taught me that being overweight does not make someone less deserving of respect.
It taught me that my voice matters, even when I am scared.
And it taught me that my intuition matters.
When I felt uncomfortable with that nurse, I had a right to say so.
I did not need to explain it perfectly.
I did not need to make him understand.
I did not need to shrink myself to protect his feelings.
I had a right to feel safe.
And so do you.
I Am Still Becoming
I am not going to pretend my life is perfect now.
It is not.
I still have struggles. I still have healing to do. I still have weight to lose. I still have fears. I still have moments when I doubt myself.
But I am not the same woman I was in that hospital bed.
I am not the same woman who thought she had to apologize for being mistreated.
I am not the same woman who believed her body made her unworthy of kindness.
I am becoming stronger.
I am becoming softer with myself.
I am becoming more honest.
I am becoming Antoinette.
And if you are in your own becoming season, I want you to know you are not alone.
Maybe you are healing from trauma.
Maybe you are trying to lose weight.
Maybe you are learning to trust your body again.
Maybe you are trying to believe you matter.
Maybe you are starting over after almost giving up.
I see you.
And I want you to keep going.
Because sometimes the moment that almost breaks you becomes the moment that wakes you up.
Sometimes survival is not pretty.
Sometimes healing is embarrassing.
Sometimes becoming starts in a hospital bed, scared, weak, and unable to speak.
But you can still rise from there.
I did.
And I believe you can too.
Final Thoughts
Sharing this story is hard for me.
It is vulnerable. It is embarrassing. It brings up memories I still feel in my body.
But I am sharing it because somebody may need to hear it.
If you have ever been mistreated while you were sick, vulnerable, overweight, disabled, scared, or unable to defend yourself, I am sorry.
You did not deserve that.
If you have ever blamed yourself for someone else being cruel to you, I understand.
But it was not your fault.
And if you are still here after everything you have been through, your story is still unfolding.
I believe mine is too.
God gave me another chance.
Now I want to use my voice to help somebody else.
That is why I started Becoming Antoinette.
Not because I have everything figured out.
But because I know what it feels like to almost not make it.
And I know what it feels like to come back.
So if you are in a season where you are trying to become a better, stronger, freer version of yourself, please keep going.
You are not alone.
And your story is not over.
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