Reality’s Rollercoaster

“We go up and down and all around.” 

6:43 am: The alarm rings. It starts to play the character from Jane the Virgin  Rogelio’s personal alarm. I hit snooze. Nine minutes later, it rings again. I get up, brush my teeth, quickly swipe my hair up into a bun, get dressed, and get out the door. I am tired and groggy.

7:35 am: I am walking to my car. The side walks are quite icy. Not many people have salted their sidewalks over the past few days. It takes me twice the time to get to my car than it should.

7:45 am: I arrive at my car. I turn it on and turn the defrosters up on high to melt the ice and snow. The snow on the top of my car was at least 8 inches. I begin to quickly brush it off and scrape the windows. I am probably going to be late.

7:57 am: I am finally finished cleaning off the car. I go to leave my spot and proceed to get stuck in the snow on the street. I am already late. I am only now going to be even more late.

8:08 am: I am stuck in traffic a block away from my street. Its been a little over ten minutes since I have left, and it should have only taken me ten minutes to get to the doctor’s office. I decide to call them to let them know I will be late.

8:17 am: I finally arrive at the doctor’s office. The nurse quickly takes me back and I am seen by the orthopedist a few minutes later. It felt like the longest minutes of my life. He comes in. We spent time discussing how well the cortisone shots have been helping. Then, he looked at my shoulder blades and compared the way they moved. He also felt the way my right shoulder blade, the bad one, made the clicking associated with my bursitis. Theres quite a lot. Finally, he brought up the words I’ve been longing to hear. I’m finally getting to have my surgery. This is officially the best day of my life.

9:30 am: I parked my car in an open spot and walked up to my apartment. My shoulder is sore. Even though it had been decided that I am having surgery, I got two cortisone shots back there anyway as I am still in large amounts of pain now. I got upstairs, kicked of my shoes, took off my jacket, and crawled back into bed. I pulled up my laptop and put on he final episode of season one of The Good Place on Netflix and fell back asleep.

2:07 pm: “It’s another beautiful day to be Rogelio. Wake up, Rogelio. Wake up, Rogelio.” The sweet sound of my lovely alarm began to play again. I hit stop and just stayed in bed for a while. My intention was to get a shower in this time and then eat before my 4:00 pm nutrition appointment, but that did not happen. Instead, I laid in bed for a little while longer.

2:57 pm: I took this opportunity to call my mom. She had been texting me all morning asking how the appointment went and asking me if I was okay. I explained to her everything. How the procedure works, how much downtime I would need, etc.. What really made the phone call was getting to talk to my niece, Emmalee. We exchanged our terrible joke of “guess what” “chicken butt” over and over again for about five minutes. Her laugh is ridiculous and she falls for it every time. She makes me so happy. She is what keeps me motivated to keep pushing right now.

4:00 pm: I am now at the student health services at a dietician appointment. This is just a regular follow-up that I go to since I have a history of an eating disorder, but since my other health issues can affect my eating habits, they get brought up as well. Today was emotional. She wanted to know how classes were going. All I could say was that they were terrible. And when she asked if I was going to make it through the semester? I just laughed.

4:37 pm: As I am walking out of student health, I decide to check my email. Very recently, I filed my heart condition with disability services as it is causing me the most amount of trouble. In my inbox, I find a four paragraph email from my one professor. She told me she felt bad that this illness has impaired my functionality as a student, but that she finds me irresponsible because, essentially, when I prioritize my health, I sometimes forget to communicate with her. I understand where she is coming from, but she knows how terrible my brain fog is. I forget things. She also said it in such a rude and unreasonable manner. I immediately became upset and messaged my mom.

5:17 pm: I don’t see the point in being a student anymore. I can’t complete my work, I can’t walk down the street to class without feeling like I may pass out, and now my professors hate me. I want to go home. I am about to break down in a Starbucks.

5:38 pm: I’ve decided to probably quit all of my activities in order to finish my semester. My mom told me I shouldn’t go to Africa. She says we will use all summer to finish this semester’s course work if we need to. I will hate myself if I do not get to use my scholarship and go to Africa.

6:13 pm: I feel confused. Maybe even numb. I don’t know what to do. I want to feel happy because I am finally having my surgery after six years of waiting, but how can I be happy with everything else going on too? I don’t know the answer to this question yet, but when I do, you will be the first to know.


Sincerely,
Casey

 

 

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