When I was a sophomore in college I decided to live by myself. If you are familiar with the University of Minnesota campus, I moved from Saint Paul to East Bank into a dorm that was one of four in an area that housed rooms with multiple layout options. I decided to live by myself because I didn’t want to go through trying to mesh with another roommate (honestly because Randi was the best I could have ever had) and I wanted my own space. As I embarked on year two, 1,000 miles away from home, I was ready to become more involved on campus, take more major classes, go Greek and really embrace the college experience. And I did just that. At first I felt like I was able to have my own space, but also do things I wanted to do outside of my single dorm. However, as the year went on it wasn’t so easy.
At the beginning of my spring semester, I noticed I wasn’t feeling very well. I felt nauseous almost all the time and my stomach ached. I couldn’t ride the bus to the other side of campus without feeling like I was going to vomit all over the campus connector and quickly become the next thing to “Yak” about. So I did the obvious thing, I called home, then I went to go see a doctor. And then another doctor. And another one -because, quite frankly, I decided that it just wasn’t normal to feel this way. It wasn’t normal to not want to eat or not be able to go out with friends because I wouldn’t feel good. So, since no one else could tell me why I felt like this, why I couldn’t bear to look at my computer screen for more than 10 minutes and why I honestly felt so sick to my stomach all the time, I consulted none other than the infamous WebMd.
I applied my basic knowledge I had learned from my pre-med courses “Grey’s Anatomy” and I hit the web, Googling what could possibly cause this much discomfort for this amount of time. I typed in those key words and went to town on the plethora of diagnoses I could determine for myself. The first plausible option was Appendicitis; I had pain in my lower right quadrant and I was incredibly nauseous and basically delirious all the time. However, actual medical professionals told me that it wasn’t that; I had lymph nodes that were a bit inflamed, but there was nothing to show that it was actually my appendix. So fine, I hit the internet again, trial after trial, to the point where (and my boyfriend will still make fun of me to this day about it), the lucky said boyfriend received a phone call from me at approximately 3:30 a.m. saying that I think I have lymphoma. Yes. I caved into the typical first and always worst WebMd explanation for everything – cancer. So here I am, alone in my dorm room, crying on the phone to my boyfriend who pretty much wanted to hang up the phone in hopes I would call my parents instead, and there was nothing I could do. At this point, all I could think was not just, “I need to be home,” but I actually started to think that I was going crazy. Was I making this up in my head? Was I actually sick?
Throughout the entirety of my spring semester, I contemplated my own sanity many nights and questioned the feelings my body was giving me. I couldn’t wrap my mind around why I was feeling one way and being told there was no cause for it. This all continued until the point where my friend Randi had to pick me up from my room at 3 a.m. to bring me to the emergency room because I could not stop getting sick and I could barely move. At this point, I said, enough is enough. Something is seriously wrong with me. And sure enough it was. Within 36 hours I had my appendix removed, and thankfully it wasn’t by George O’Malley.
That semester of college not only left me with one less organ, but an abundance of feelings that I still have a hard time understanding. Most of my time at the U over those few months is a blur in my mind, I call them the “dark days." I couldn’t tell you my schedule for that semester or if I even went out with girls I recently became sisters with. Quite frankly, I don’t know a lot. What I do know is that the anxiety and panic from those days hasn’t left me since.
However, I think that throughout life you are going to be dealt certain cards. Some cards will be positive, and some will be the most unbearable that you have ever had to get through in your life. But at the same time, I think we have to recognize that there is that light at the end of the tunnel. It may take days, months or even years to come to terms with what has happened to you.
Whether you went through an illness, are a survivor of an assault or experienced anything else in your life that has left a mark on you that you can’t erase, wear your scars with pride. You are who you are because of what you had to deal with. If you are like me and have not been able to completely return to “normal” after such event, that’s OK too. You may not ever be able to return to who you were, but you can learn from what you went through.
I am slowly learning that I have to take a deep breath and realize not only that WebMd may not be necessary to use to look up symptoms of a common cold, but that I have to try and shut off the negative thoughts that pore into my mind late at night when I am all alone. I have to realize that I am no longer the girl who was a sophomore in college living by herself, surrounded by panic and anxiety of the unknown. I got through it, and now I have to rebuild parts of my life that were affected.
It may take me a few years to be able to get blood work done without shedding a tear. It may take me a few more years to learn to calm the encroaching thoughts that invade my mind when I am in a quiet place. And the thing is, that is OK. It is OK to recognize that you may just need time. But no matter what you’ve been through, what you’ve seen or what cards you have been dealt, you can get through it. You may change, but you will evolve into someone stronger than you were before.
