doctor

Open Arms and An Open Heart

Bad days tear me down. Maybe I should say moments instead.

My emotions are all over the place. One second, I’m smiling; the second after, I’m crying,

My hormones are also going crazy. I’m just bitching all the time. Maybe it’s because the nurses are weaving me off the heavy drugs, or maybe I’m just sick of the tubes that have been sticking out of my body for the past 12 days.

It’s no fun for anyone – mom and dad are probably so sick of me.

Get me this…
Grab that for me…
Take me here…
Do this… Do that…

Demands are flying left, right and center. It doesn’t stop.

The worst part of it all is having someone take me to the bathroom. I have the weakest bladder ever so I pee very often – this obviously doesn’t work in my favor when I have so many cords attached to me.

I also feel like a woman in menopause when I get hot flashes. I go to bed freezing cold, and I wake up drenched in my own sweat. It really is an issue.

But how dare I complain?! The woman in the room right next to me has been on oxygen for a month. Her cough radiates and echoes in my room. It sounds like a wet dog cough. The nurses say that she may not even make it.

For those who don’t know, this is Pennsatucky.

There’s also another woman on the cardiovascular side of the hospital floor. She has no family with her. Her husband and her mother apparently don’t care. You can tell that this woman has a few loose screws but no one deserves to be unloved. I swear she looks exactly like Pennsatucky from Orange is the New Black, which is appropriate because we are in prison.

She wonders the halls at all hours looking for someone to talk to. She’s lonely.

She passes time by coloring children’s drawings. Her “art” hangs everywhere in the hospital. She gives them to them to the nurses, other patients, and even the cleaning women. She’s the Frida Khalo of UAB.

Her doctors don’t know what they’re going to do with her as yet. She may have open heart surgery, a heart transplant or some other crazy extreme. Her life hangs on uncertainty.

Again, how dare I complain?

Having such a major surgery and having no support is traumatizing. I cannot even imagine how she feels.

I make dad buy her flowers in the gift shop. I take them to her room, and she drowns in her own tears. I give her a tight squeeze and I leave her room sniffling. We shared a special moment.

There are three things this experience taught me:

  1. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover. Everyone goes through life experiences that shapes them to be who they are today. You don’t know what people have been through, so just keep an open heart and wide arms.
  2. I am so lucky to have the support I have. Even though mom, dad, and aunty Christine are the only three people with me, I have an army backing me up at both homes: Syracuse and Trinidad. It’s really important to connect to people who are going through a similar situation to you.
  3. If you can lend a shoulder to lean on, a smile to spread or a listening ear, it can make a huge difference in someone’s life.
Advertisements

The Beginning of the End

When you’re the editor of an on-campus publication and you’re a full-time student taking 18 credits, you’d do almost anything for a break – just one second to breathe. Not me, Sir. 

I love the rush. I love the busy life. Most importantly, I love school.

And, illness took that away.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

My alarm rings. Obviously, I press snooze 15 times before I actually drag myself out of bed. I stuff my face with cereal, my Keurig brews Starbucks’ best, I grab it and I’m on my way to magazine editing.

It’s 9 a.m. on Nov. 12th – just a regular Tuesday morning, or so I thought.

It’s 11 o’clock. Class is over. I go to Health Services and complain about a persistent dry cough that has lasted for two to three weeks.

At midday, the PA sends me for an x-ray.

Within minutes of doing so, the radiologists rush me into another room for a CT scan. What is going on? I thought, hmmm, maybe I just have bronchitis? Pneumonia? But, that be too simple for my complicated life.

It’s 2:30 now. I anxiously sit in the waiting room.

At 3 p.m., I get a shuttle back to Health Services and my world turns upside down.

“Well, Teresa, you have a mass in your lung. It’s almost the size of a tennis ball. It could be benign; it could be malignant.”

What do you mean? I might have cancer? Right now? But, I’m only 20-years-old. PSH! Teresa, be real, cancer doesn’t give two shits about how old you are.

“Call your mom.” No. 

How is that even possible? How do you tell your parents the worst news you’ve ever heard in your entire life? How do you do that without breaking their hearts?

My life is a movie. Cool. 

“Mom…..”

The PA grabs the phone, explains it all, and mom’s off to book flights and organize doctors appointments.

“If your family doctors are in Florida, you need to be there by tonight. You need to have a biopsy done tomorrow.”

“No, actually, my magazine launches next week. I can’t leave. I have things to do.”

“It doesn’t matter. Your health always comes first”

I know it does, but I still respond, “It really doesn’t….”

There and then, I burst into tears. All I have ever known is work. I pull all nighters as if it’s my primary job, I go above and beyond in every project I do just to stand out, and I stress for no reason – but, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know life without the hustle.

As the PA said, “It doesn’t matter,” right?  I’ll be off to Florida in the morning whether I like it or not.

I cry, I moan, I scream.

And I cry.

Where did that get me? Nowhere, really, but it’s a bit of an emotional relief.

I watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians for 3 hours, and cry a little more (you would think that their pathetic lives might have made me feel better about mine – that was not the case).

My head is all over the place. This, that, there, then, who, what, where, when, why – “why” really stuck though.

Why me? Why now? Why this? Why, God? WHY? 

My aunt gave me a quote that stuck with me:

“Sometimes when you wonder why you can’t hear God’s voice during your trials, remember the teacher is always quiet during the test.”

So, God is with me. At all times. I just have to believe that his presence and love will be enough to pull me through whatever I have ahead of me.