It was 18 years ago that my family was told that I had a 13% chance of living to the age of 5. There were times when I wasn't supposed to make it through the night or come off of the ventilator after surgery. It was just this past year that I started my senior year in high school and graduated; something my family and doctors weren't sure I'd ever get to do. It was this past week that I started my freshman year in college, an experience that I wasn't sure I'd ever get to have.
I'm not going to lie, on the drive up to my school; I was scared out of my mind. New school. New teachers. New students. People I wouldn't know or even recognize. While I appreciated the fact that I was given the opportunity to be able to go to college and have an experience we weren't sure I'd ever get to have, I was scared. Thankfully my sister told me about the First Year Experience at my college where I have all my classes with the same group of people; that way I get to know them easier and don't have different people in each class. Another thing to be thankful for, I did know one person in my class so that was nice.
Because I miss so much school, the school asks another student in my class to take notes for me for when I'm not there. Well a girl named Sydney offered and she is extremely nice and I have sat with her and her friends everyday since then. My teachers seem really nice and our class gets an Ipad 2 loaned to us to put our notes and text books on it.
On a sad note, my friends left for Camp Del Corazon on Thursday morning and for the first time in 10 years, I will not be going. I can't wait to be able to go as a counselor next year. Camp was the place where we could all get together to laugh, share our stories, make friends, dance to Blame It On The Boogie and feel like a normal kid for once. Camp was the place that everyone had a scar and no one was made fun of for being different or slow. Camp is the place that I call home.
Thanks for reading and have a great week!