Three years ago things were so different. Three years ago today my whole world changed. I left Northwestern, I transferred to Concordia, and I had my first back surgery. This one was mostly complication free, minus a fever and throwing up. That’s “mostly” because that was the first one. The second one, two years and two months later, left me with severe pneumonia (and a fever of nearly 105!), urinary retention, ruined my left leg, and more.
I was supposed to graduate today. I was supposed to walk and receive my diploma in the major I handcrafted – special needs ministry – so that I can be a hospital chaplain. I was supposed to be earning the diploma that I’ve slaved away at since 2008, even though I graduated high school in 2006. And I’m not. I haven’t. And I don’t know if I ever will.
My health, and my faith along with it, is no longer stable. Over the past year I have added three more antibiotic allergies to the two I already have, making it an absolute bitch when I’m sick. Which is often: I have a severe dust allergy which compromises my immune system, as well as an autoimmune problem which is still up in the air. I have disabling migraines a few times a week and my insurance has denied Botox injections. I am always sick these days and I am always in pain.
Athena and I moved recently, to a bigger apartment, just the two of us – leaving my best friend and roommate to move back in with her grandma. The loneliness alone is crippling. The pain alone is heartbreaking. Some days just walking to Kmart takes all my spoons. There’s piles and piles of stuff to unpack. My days are spent playing Pokemon and watching Netflix.
This is not how I imagined life to be.
This is not what I thought life would look like when I was nearly 27.