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Easter Day 2004- Family Tip: When trying to avoiding looking 'sickly pale' don't stand next to Tanning Goddesses
Training: Week 3, Day 5
Time: 0
Distance: 0
Power Song: Hometown Glory by Adele
April 2, 2004-- I spent my Spring Break sleeping. Weary and exhausted are words that are often tossed out like change to a homeless man- thoughtlessly given until the giver has been homeless.
I was weary and exhausted
The week that I slept was Holy Week (Christian holiday that begins with Palm Sunday and extends through Easter Sunday). I was raised in a Christian home and was active in my faith through college, but I changed as I became sicker. I couldn't understand why God allowed this to happen to me. Myself, my family and three churches were praying to him for my healing... and nothing. I lost my 'faith of a child' during my illness.
On Good Friday I was scheduled for a CT scan. This scan would either clear me to return to the classroom or keep me home for another week. My normal doctor was on holiday and I had to see another doctor. My sub doctor compared my previous scan and the current on. I had a 'potentially troublesome spot'. He wanted to hospitalize me. He said he wanted a second opinion, and the only doctor on Good Friday would be the hospital's on call doctor. All I heard was hospital and started crying and said no.
When he asked what was wrong I told him I wanted to be home for Easter with my dog. He told me that if I'd let him admit me, he'd bring his dog to the hospital on Easter for me to see. It was the lamest compromise I've ever made in my whole life.
My hospital room was one I'd stayed in before-- a corner room with a view of the courtyard--where I could potentially play with the doctor's dog on Easter.
My mom left me alone to call my Dad. She was barely holding in her tears.
In a hospital there is always noise from medical equipment filling your ears. Or nurses are constantly pestering you to draw blood or check your fluid intake and output. It smells like weird disinfectants. But I didn't register any of this.
Instead, I sat on the bed looking at the courtyard. It was gray and unkempt from the long winter. I knew I had to chose. Up until now it's all been Amber's way, and here I was in the hospital, yet again. I could keep fighting. Keep trying to prove I could live my life how I wanted, no matter what. And I could keep ending up in the hospital. Keep pushing myself. Keep denying the truth.
I was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of seeing my mom cry.
Tired of my Grandma lighting candles and praying with the Saints of Intestinal Disease for my recovery.
My way wasn't worth it anymore.
Okay God.
I get it.
I'm sick.
Training: Week 3, Day 5
Time: 0
Distance: 0
Power Song: Hometown Glory by Adele
April 2, 2004-- I spent my Spring Break sleeping. Weary and exhausted are words that are often tossed out like change to a homeless man- thoughtlessly given until the giver has been homeless.
I was weary and exhausted
The week that I slept was Holy Week (Christian holiday that begins with Palm Sunday and extends through Easter Sunday). I was raised in a Christian home and was active in my faith through college, but I changed as I became sicker. I couldn't understand why God allowed this to happen to me. Myself, my family and three churches were praying to him for my healing... and nothing. I lost my 'faith of a child' during my illness.
On Good Friday I was scheduled for a CT scan. This scan would either clear me to return to the classroom or keep me home for another week. My normal doctor was on holiday and I had to see another doctor. My sub doctor compared my previous scan and the current on. I had a 'potentially troublesome spot'. He wanted to hospitalize me. He said he wanted a second opinion, and the only doctor on Good Friday would be the hospital's on call doctor. All I heard was hospital and started crying and said no.
When he asked what was wrong I told him I wanted to be home for Easter with my dog. He told me that if I'd let him admit me, he'd bring his dog to the hospital on Easter for me to see. It was the lamest compromise I've ever made in my whole life.
My hospital room was one I'd stayed in before-- a corner room with a view of the courtyard--where I could potentially play with the doctor's dog on Easter.
My mom left me alone to call my Dad. She was barely holding in her tears.
In a hospital there is always noise from medical equipment filling your ears. Or nurses are constantly pestering you to draw blood or check your fluid intake and output. It smells like weird disinfectants. But I didn't register any of this.
Instead, I sat on the bed looking at the courtyard. It was gray and unkempt from the long winter. I knew I had to chose. Up until now it's all been Amber's way, and here I was in the hospital, yet again. I could keep fighting. Keep trying to prove I could live my life how I wanted, no matter what. And I could keep ending up in the hospital. Keep pushing myself. Keep denying the truth.
I was tired.
Tired of fighting.
Tired of seeing my mom cry.
Tired of my Grandma lighting candles and praying with the Saints of Intestinal Disease for my recovery.
My way wasn't worth it anymore.
Okay God.
I get it.
I'm sick.
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