As the Dust Settles

   I don't know if the title is fitting, but meh, it just came to mind this afternoon.  As of 11am this morning, I am officially on a medical leave of absence from college--again.  I know there are some top administrators who want my head, but there are some amazing people standing behind me at the same time.  My next goal is to finish preparing for a make up exam to finish a class from last semester (once I can remember even the slightest thing I'm supposed to when I look at the review sheet), then it's on to getting as much background and medical documentation so that this doesn't happen again.  And, of course, focus on my health.
      I have several former professors writing on my behalf to the college I transferred to to establish a background of missed classes due to flare ups and major injuries that took months longer to heal from than a normal, healthy person would.  Having read copies of the letters I've received so far that are going to the college and picking up a letter from my primary doctor today brought back a memory of a conversation I had with my best friend some time ago. 
      I knew I was sick, but I made the choice to return to school to earn the degrees I needed in order to help others in my shoes--chronically ill.  I had a career once.  It seems like a lifetime ago.  And just like that it was gone.  Over a hundred medications and treatments later, I'm worse than I ever was.  My mother also had her life turned upside down by chronic illness.  In many ways, I can relate to and understand where she is coming from, what she is going through, but in other ways I can't.  She always put her kids first, her work second, the house third (with the pets ranked right up there with her kids).  She always stood behind my father in whatever venture/hobby he was into.  I never had that.  I haven't been married, I spent too many years with scumbags and losers because I knew what to expect--to get hurt and I admit I felt (and in some ways, still do) feel that I don't deserve "the one."  I never had children and was told there is a 99% chance I never will be able to.  Even if I could, what if I pass this hell down to my child?  Or for that matter, if I can't even complete a semester, how can I raise a child?  I just never had that opportunity.  When you're in your late teens/early twenties, you always think there's plenty of time, so I focused on my career.  And it backfired.  It's hard to relate to someone who at least had a chance and lived a life.   And when I chose to go back to school, the hope was that my doctors would have found some treatment by the time I finished the degrees I needed to be able to return to a career.  Even if it meant tens of thousands in debt from school loans, just being able to help even one person would make it worth it. What I ignored the last few years was just how much my health was getting worse.  I put others ahead of myself for many reasons. 
     Three years ago, I was about as high as a student could get.  I received awards for being the best student in my major, president of a national honor society, awards for my work, but as awesome as it was, it was also scary.  When you're at the top, the only place to move is down.  And then I fell.  And all I can do is pray I get answers... get real relief, not just another pill for another symptom.  I want to get back there.. my mind still works, but my body seems to have hit the stop button.  And a tiny, scary thought entered my mind today as I'm reading words from my doctor about how "unfortunately, this young woman..." and my professors write glowing recommendations about how hard I worked, despite my illnesses and missed classes--one even described me as a "top-flight graduate student" (as I was only working towards my associates when I had her class).  What if that's as high as I was meant to go, or can go?  I fought through the pain, I fought through the stress, the exhaustion, and it paid off.  But now I just can't.  And it scares the hell out of me.  All of it.  So now as the dust is starting to settle from a million things going on at once between school, my family, and my own health, I can't help but see where I was, what I did, and where I am now, but absolutely no clue where I'm going.