Sorry it has been a few days since my last post! My computer didn’t have internet until about an hour ago and my dad’s laptop wouldn’t let me access the blog. So, boo! A lot has happened the past few days, so brace yourselves. This is going to be a looonnnggg post.
As you remember (if you don’t, it is literally the next post down), I had a bronchoscopy on Thursday. It went swimmingly, thanks for asking. They wouldn’t let my dad record me going under anesthesia, but he did get a short clip of me waking up. I’ll be sure to post it tomorrow. I’m just warning you now: I look totally hot in this video. Like, super-model hot. If you’ve never been under anesthesia, then you are missing out on a really unique experience (Note: going under anesthesia is always a risk and not something that should be done nonchalantly. Do NOT go under anesthesia unless it is necessary). You know how when you sleep and you wake up, you can usually feel like some there has been some passage of time? You can usually guess how long you’ve been asleep and your body feels like its been rested. You probably even had a dream. Well, anesthesia is nothing like that. You don’t slowly fade into sleep. They push it through your IV and in less than 10 seconds you’re knocked out. My dad’s take: “They put it in and then you were just kinda like ‘Klunk! Out.'” It’s like your mind just completely shuts off. You don’t dream and it is not a refreshing sleep. You don’t wake up all bright eyed and bushy-tailed. Waking up sucks. Even though you go to sleep instantly, it takes FOREVER to wake up. You slowly become conscious of sounds, then feelings. It’s hard to make sense of reality and you fade in and out. You’re not really sure if you are dreaming or imagining things. Your brain is in this really thick fog. It is honestly one of the worst feelings in the world. And my throat was killing me. I mean, what do you expect when they shove a tube down your throat and start poking around? You always open your eyes last. My mind always works so hard. It takes so much more effort than you think it would. I’m such a loser too. The first thing I always do when I am able to focus is look for the clock. I always want to know what time it is and how long I’ve been out for. I think it is because I’m a control freak and the whole anesthesia-thing takes away my control. So by knowing the time, I gain back some of that control. But that’s just speculation. Maybe I just have a thing for clocks. I also like to move my hands, then my feet. Your body kinda feels like it is full of lead. You just feel really heavy, like you would sink to the bottom if dropped in a pool (Well, you would probably sink anyway because you wouldn’t be aware enough to swim, but that’s beside the point). Once I was finally conscious enough to start talking and drinking water and holding my head up and normal stuff like that, they took me back to our room, where Logan was waiting to laugh at me in my doped up state. I mostly ignored her, but she did get a nice view of my butt from the opening in the back of the hospital gown (sexy hospital couture, I know), so we’re even. I then ate some carrots and proceeded to talk some more non-sense as the rest of the anesthesia wore off. I eventually fell asleep and took a nap for a few hours. When I awoke from my restful slumber, I felt much better and ate my entire dinner (which is saying something because hospital food= yuck). My throat still felt awful and my oxygen was still in the upper 80s/low 90s, but I didn’t feel drugged. My oxygen eventually went up as the night went on and on Friday was back to normal (well, normal for me, which is mid to upper 90s). My throat, however, has yet to fully recover. They must have scratched it up good. It is feeling a little better today than it did yesterday, so progress!
We were discharged on Friday. We were in the hospital for 3 weeks and 1 day (I think the one day really put it over the edge ;-)) Logan went to my mom’s house and I went to my dad’s house. We did this for two reasons. 1: There was a room ready for me at my dad’s and not really at my mom’s since Meghan stole my old room when I went away to school. I mean, she changed the comforter and everything. It’s like I never even existed. 2: Logan tested positive for aspergillus, which can possibly delay lung transplantation, and I did not (I win!). I kind of feel bad for aspergillus. He may have a bad reputation, but he really is a Fungi (fun-guy). I apologize for that lame pun, but I just couldn’t resist. Unlike Staphylococcus aureus, which resisted Methicillin. (MRSA! *slaps knee*). [I am so sorry. It is late and we all know that I am a huge nerd. I just wanted you to know that I am aware that my behavior is nerdy and somewhat (alot) weird. Let’s just all pretend that this whole part of me telling lame disease jokes never happened.] My dad didn’t have Wi-Fi, but now he does because, honestly, how can they expect me to survive without the internet? I don’t care so much about Facebook or Twitter, but Netflix? Come on! Oh, and I guess this blog too. That’s why it took me a few days to post. My dad was upgrading from the Dark Ages.
“So, Jordan, why are you living with your dad? I thought you lived at Stetson?” Great question! Thank you for asking! After two weeks of being in the hospital, I started to stress out. Like, a lot. Missing a couple of weeks in high school is hard, but it is not impossible to make up, especially when you have been able to build great relationships with your teachers. I have always been blessed with great teachers who were supportive, understanding, and just overall amazing. Sure, I would get stressed about making up work and tests, but my teachers were always there to help me and trusted me enough to know that I would do the best I could. So I’m just going to take this moment to thank all those teachers out there who were there for me whenever I needed it, whether it be for tutoring or a shoulder to cry on. You all know who you are, especially since I’m friends with most of you on Facebook.
College is so different. It’s not that the professors don’t care. It is just that you don’t have the same relationship with the professors that you do with your teachers. You only go to class a couple of times a week. So by missing three and half weeks of class, I missed approximately 7 meetings of each class. I missed 4 of my Biology labs, which are impossible to make up. Assuming that I would get back to school this week, I would only have 1 meeting left in my first-year seminar class and 5 meetings in my other 3 classes. Then the semester is over. I don’t need to explain how much work and stress that is. I could request an Incomplete for each course, which would give me an extended time to make up all the work. But each professor has to agree to an Incomplete for his/her class, and my grade for that class would probably not be where I would want it to be, especially when trying to maintain scholarships. Another tidbit of information: Stetson does not offer online classes. Why does this matter? Well, since I will be going into the hospital every two months or so, for two weeks (at least) at a time, going to classes and maintaining good grade will be hard. Not impossible, but also extremely stressful. Let’s face it, I have a lot on my plate with the whole “lung transplant at the age of 18” thing. I do not need to add any unnecessary stress to my life. So after much research, many arguments in my head, and many, many, many tears, I made the decision to withdraw from Stetson.
I pause here because I just want to explain that this was not an easy decision. In fact, it was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make in my life. You get this picture in your mind of what life is going to be. Graduate high school, go to college, have the best time of your life. I wanted that college experience more than anything. I knew I was going to be successful at school and living on my own. If you know me pretty well (which you probably do just from reading this), then you know I am super determined, hard-working, and stubborn. I don’t give up easily. Leaving Stetson is one of the most heart-breaking things I have ever had to do because it is something I worked so hard for. From the AP classes, to the SAT and ACT, to filling out scholarship after scholarship after scholarship, and to making sure all my paperwork was where it needed to be, when it needed to be there, I put years of work into this dream. I felt like everything I had ever worked for didn’t matter.
But like I said, I’m stubborn and I don’t give up easily. I decided that my journey may be slightly different from most other 18 year-olds, but I would still get to where I wanted to go. It might take a little longer and I’ll have to work a little harder, but I’ll get there. I’m hoping to get into UCF for the Spring semester so that I can take online classes. This will give me more flexibility for when I am in the hospital. I will probably stay at UCF until I have earned enough credits to transfer to UF (Hear that, Moriah?!). At least that’s the plan for now. It might change once we know more definite information in regards to transplant. No matter what though, I will not sit around between hospital stays being a victim. That is total crap and honestly sounds really boring.
So that leads me to today. We had to go up to Stetson to officially withdraw from the university. Sounds easy enough right? NO. You have to fill out this form (which I was smart enough to do beforehand) and take it to the VP of Student Affairs. She looks over it and then you have to sign it. THEN you have to take the form to get signatures from Financial Planning, the Bursar, and Housing and Residential Life, which are basically all in different buildings. And of course two of the people are at lunch so we had to waste some time until they were back in office. THEN when we go and talk to the Financial Aid lady, she informs us that they will have to send my Bright Futures money back to the state since I didn’t earn the credits. I totally get that. However, now that will leave me owing Stetson $1,600 that has to be paid back before I can use Bright Futures for the Spring term at a different school. I’m sorry, but why am I being punished for having to MEDICALLY WITHDRAW (read: necessary) from this school. And of course they don’t offer any assistance in paying this. So now I’m hoping that one of my scholarships that I set aside for Spring term can be put towards that, lowering our amount due to $600. Which is still a lot of money, but not as much as it was before. Let’s just say it was a frustrating day, added insult to injury, poured salt in the wound, etc.
On the bright side, I got my room at my dad’s house all organized, I have a bathroom that I don’t have to share with 15 other girls, I don’t have to wear shoes in the shower, I have a long winter break, I don’t have to pay rent, there are dogs to play with whenever I want, I get to eat delicious home-cooked food, I get to sleep in a comfy, queen size bed instead of and Extra-long twin, I am allowed to light candles, and many other things.
See? There is always something to be grateful for. Especially Wi-Fi.
P.S. The title of this blog is a line from a song that continuously runs through my head. Whenever I start to have a little pity-party, the line always comes to mind. If you can guess the song, you get a gold star and a shout out on my next post!
With Every Breath: My Life with Cystic Fibrosis 