Goals

As a rising senior, I've been thinking about my goals, short term and long term. I've been thinking about how they've changed over time. In the 6th grade, I started searching for colleges. My goal was to become a neurologist by studying at Columbia University. I was an exceptional student, not that things came easily, I just studied well and understood things well. In 8th grade, I managed to become the salutatorian of my class, I was so excited! My freshman year of high school, I got sick. I was having chronic migraines, and extreme nausea. I'm one of those unlucky people who literally can't throw up. When I throw up, you know I'm REALLY sick. So for me, it was frustrating to not be able to throw up and potentially just fix the situation. I saw doctor after doctor, none of whom could help me. I ended up in the hospital for three days, all they did was dope me up on Morphine and check my vitals every six hours. I know doctors do what they can, but morphine changed who I was. When I was conscious, I cried and was nasty, almost like a different person. And I couldn't take a shower until my last day, they were worried I would fall. All I cared about was taking a shower and getting the hospital smell out of my pores. For a week after I got out, I couldn't get that disgusting smell off of me. I would scratch and rub and wash and dry and nothing helped. Eventually, it faded, but my illness didn't. It just got worse. I spent my sophomore year in shame. I had no diagnosis and everyone thought I was a dramatic hypochondriac. At the end of the school teacher, I even had a teacher shame me in front of my whole class, and the head of the English department. I was so done. I was tired of people pretending to understand me and pretending that they knew everything. Then, I was diagnosed. I finally had my answer, and from a Columbia University doctor, no less. I felt revived. I wasn't a hypochondriac, I was a spoonie. I immediately had a support system, when I felt down I could just check the tumblr tag, or DM Emma, follow someone on Twitter. It's such a pure relationship, I don't know all of you personally (I try!) but we have a mutual relationship and empathy. I love you all, and I hope you know that. The point of this post is supposed to be, that we all have goals. Many abled people might think that we don't have dreams, that we see ourselves as inept cripples, but that's how THEY see us. Every teen spoonie I've met so far wants to become something, a doctor, a nurse, a writer, a surgeon, etc. There are so many teens that have their physical health intact, and want nothing for themselves, they have no dreams, they want nothing. I want everything. Never forget how valuable you are, never think less of yourself because of your cane, your wheelchair, your pain or your deformity. They are the physical proof of the war you've been fighting. Some may laugh at the battles you've lost, but they know nothing of the countless battles you've won. I know I won't. It doesn't matter how much pain I'm in ever day, my fibro won't stop me from doing what needs to be done to help the world. My scarred body keeps me grounded but my soul will never stop reaching towards the skies.