Four years ago today was arguably one of the most impacting days of my life to this point. Four years ago I was in high school and staring graduation in the face, begging it to just hurry up. I went into school that day expecting a hailstorm of trouble, but I had no idea how much my life was about to change in a matter of hours. That day, as an emotionally-ravaged high school version of myself stood in my guidance counselor's office, I passed out for the fifth time in my life. And that was a pivotal microsecond.
Unlike, the first, second, third, and fourth times I had passed out, there was no graceful swooning, no arms to catch me. There was, however, a piece of furniture and a concrete floor that welcomed my dropped-like-lead body.
My next clear memory from my own perspective should probably be placed somewhere in late March. I went from remembering every detail of my life to not being able to change classes without getting confused. That's when the nightmares started. That's when the panic attacks started. That's when my sweet, sweet Momma slept on the floor for five months because my health and emotions were both so off, and she didn't want to risk leaving me alone.
I didn't know it then, but my life was changed. I managed to graduate on time with my class after missing weeks of school and not knowing if I spelled my name right on the work I was turning in.
Now, four years later, as I sit here telling the whole story for the first time, I am staring at my binder of medical records that is at least two inches thick. The last four years of my life are contained in that two-inch thick monstrosity. (Well, it does have a pretty cover because why not?)
Every time I wake up from passing out, January 27, 2011 haunts me in its own cruel way. See, a severe concussion alters your brain. And can, among other factors, cause Dysautonomia (the umbrella term for a group of illnesses, two of which I have- Vasovagal Syncope and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). Oh and just by the way, have you ever tried to spell those names for paramedics minutes after passing out? Not easy.
I never imagined my life looking the way it does now on the morning of January 27, 2011. Now I have passed out over 30 times. Forgive me, I didn't feel like counting an exact total for you.
Every January 27th comes with a certain amount of reflection, certain amount of self-pity, and a tiny dash of celebration. Looking back over these last four years, I wouldn't change a single thing... Just kidding. I have regrets, but if January 27, 2011 is what it took to get me where I am today, then maybe there will be a little less self-pity and a little more celebration today.
So this January 27th, I'll be reading my own blog and rejoicing in the faithfulness of my God to make this all somehow okay.
My last day as a normally functioning human for awhile.
My next clear memory from my own perspective should probably be placed somewhere in late March. I went from remembering every detail of my life to not being able to change classes without getting confused. That's when the nightmares started. That's when the panic attacks started. That's when my sweet, sweet Momma slept on the floor for five months because my health and emotions were both so off, and she didn't want to risk leaving me alone.
I wore the concussion well at this point. I had no idea that it had changed my life forever.
I graduated Valedictorian and was able to publicly thank those in my class who had supported me when it was uncertain if I would even be able to graduate.
Every time I wake up from passing out, January 27, 2011 haunts me in its own cruel way. See, a severe concussion alters your brain. And can, among other factors, cause Dysautonomia (the umbrella term for a group of illnesses, two of which I have- Vasovagal Syncope and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). Oh and just by the way, have you ever tried to spell those names for paramedics minutes after passing out? Not easy.
I never imagined my life looking the way it does now on the morning of January 27, 2011. Now I have passed out over 30 times. Forgive me, I didn't feel like counting an exact total for you.
Every January 27th comes with a certain amount of reflection, certain amount of self-pity, and a tiny dash of celebration. Looking back over these last four years, I wouldn't change a single thing... Just kidding. I have regrets, but if January 27, 2011 is what it took to get me where I am today, then maybe there will be a little less self-pity and a little more celebration today.
So this January 27th, I'll be reading my own blog and rejoicing in the faithfulness of my God to make this all somehow okay.
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