A Bit of Irony

Hey,

I have been feeling tired, exhausted and like something was draining me for weeks. I go so hard on things that I do in life, that I usually am the last one to realize if something is wrong with me physically. I've been taught from a young age that pain is nothing but a hinderance, that you suck it up, ignore it, will it away, wish it away, and it does everything you tell it.

However, last Friday, I could not ignore the pain anymore. My mother and I went to the ER after the pain was so bad that it caused me to swoon, and subsequently, I passed out. 

Eight hours later, I was found to have a really bad kidney infection. How does one get a kidney infection? Well, a few days before, I'd had stomach flu really bad. The doctors believe that the virus somehow didn't die, but traveled instead to my right kidney, which already is weak, and infected it. I also have found out that I have other issues which have contributed to the infection, but I'll keep those private for the moment.

The point is, I now find myself in a position where I cannot even attend school because it is far too uncomfortable to sit in a chair for a long period. I went to my classes today, and found myself in agony to the point of screaming. And because of the infection and antibiotics, I can't take anything for the pain stronger than Tylenol #3, and I'm downing them like breath mints to no avail. I think I took 3000 mg of Tylenol today alone. Sad stuff, I know. Until I rid myself of the infection, I can't have any surgery or medical procedures done to rid myself of the pain. The one procedure I do have on my schedule is for next week, where I will get a dye injected into my kidney to see if there is any scarring. There is also another one, where I will be injected with something to pretty much force all the gunk in me out. *Sorry if that's TMI*

I tend to take everything that happens in stride. Here I was, exercising and working towards running a marathon, and now part of me isn't sure what will happen to me next. I swear, I just feel like I'm climbing an uphill battle and I've got cement blocks in my feet.

So the irony comes in a bitter pill for me. I wanted to slow down, and now I have to. I can't will my body to heal faster, and I can't force myself to do what I can't do. I'm hoping that Monday will bring me a better chance to bear it all though. I can't wish for Thursday soon enough.

ARGHHHH!

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

Today Would Have Been:

Hey,

Today, I'm a bit bummed. I know that I am bummed and blue because of many different reasons. One of the reasons is that I have to return to school on Tuesday (Wednesday if I can get the okay to watch the Inauguration). I'm not looking forward to school mainly because I have spent more time stressed there then anywhere else. Last semester was so rough for me, emotionally, just because a lot of drama happened. And ironically, most of the drama was not my doing, for a change. I was unwillingly pulled into a situation that was out of my control and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. Because it happened, I was accused of having part in its creation, and the drama followed me as a result of that accusation. It sucked, and I looked forward to the break to just get away from it. And I did. While I didn't travel anywhere major, I was absolutely stress-free. I enjoyed talking to my dad, hanging out with my mom, sipping hot toddies and watching Jerry Springer. I'm sad to say goodbye to that time.

Another reason I'm bummed is because of the weather. When it gets cold, I tend to just retreat into myself, and not really want to do much of anything. I find that I get bored with being in the house, but unable to push myself into the world. It's a weird limbo that I live in, and while I don't like it, I find comfort in it. However, this cold is unlike anything I've ever seen. It moves, it breathes, and it just turns people into....assholes. Today, I was out in the cold, trying my best to be polite to people, and not only did some man try to steal my shopping cart at the store, in his efforts to take the cart (which had my cell phone and keys in it) he pushed me into the snow. I was lucky in that I could grab my stuff before he disappeared into the store, but what if I'd been unable? I was shouting at him that I'd grabbed the cart, but he didn't care. At all. I wasn't hurt by it emotionally or physically, but it was just the rudeness that hit me just like the cold. Hard, insensitive and unrelenting.

I'm also going through a stage where in my recovery of my past relationship that I begin to feel sorry for myself. Overall, mainly because it looks like I'll have a whole year after graduation to kill before I go to law school. And I know that in that year, time may go by slowly or fast, depending on what I am doing with myself. For example, my mom asked me when I was going to start dating again, and I had to excuse myself so that I wouldn't cry. Pathetic, I know, but I'm just feeling a little off center. I've not had much luck with relationships, and I'm starting to feel like I'm not meant to. And before anyone says it, I'm not whining, or even looking. I guess it's the inertia of my life, the uncertainty of what's to come. I can plan my semester, even a few weeks or so after, but the rest...remains unknown. With the job market being even more depressing and unrelenting than the cold, it just seems like next year, I'll be doing nothing but blogging and writing. Which is okay, but unless I get some crazy idea to make an income off of it or join a cult start work for PrePaid Legal it won't pay my student loans. 

Thank god for Forbearance!

Thoughts?

*Ashley Robin*

This Time Next Week/The Way Things Happen/Solo Explorations

I'll be school. Starting next week, I will be a senior in college. Last year of undergrad has finally arrived. Part of me is very conflicted, but the other part is relieved to be that much closer to law school. That's the goal, to go to law school. Everything I do now, in terms of my academics, is related to that. It is not a joke studying for this LSAT though, and I've decided to go on and admit that I need outside help. If I can't get into a class in time for the October test, I'll definitely get in one in time for the December test.  This cartoon is definitely on the money, as far as the time needed to study, it feels like 15 years! LOL...but in the meanwhile, I'll be getting everything together..just didn't realize there are so many fees involved! There's registration fees, LSDAS fees, application fees, document copy fees, transcript fees, and the list goes on and on. I just hope that I score high enough on the test to get into the law school of good financial aid programs (scholarship, anyone) and of my choosing. When I have more of a list of the schools I plan to apply to, I will share it, but now I'm just doing a lot of research into it.

So, a while ago, I was kind of discussing my lack of love life. All of a sudden, it seems as if I've got contenders in the ring showing interest to date me. It's weird how just when you start to think that the possibility of a love life is temporarily M.I.A., you find that you were wrong. And from the most unlikely people as well...people you figure either didn't notice you for one reason or another, or just didn't picture yourself with. By no means does that say I'm on the verge of finding my Mr. Robin, not at all, BUT there are guys who are interested in me and have made that interest known and that's what I wanted...just to feel..wanted. :-) Now, I do, so I feel like there's hope for the MisAdventures to actually become real adventures after all. I just hope that it doesn't cause me to have to change the blog or myself too much, because my misadventures are what keep people coming back to read and read. Even though hardly anyone comments, trust, I get plenty of emails in regards to this blog, so I know that someone out there (including you, Reader X) are currently enjoying reading about my goofy exploits and observations in love and life.

I've also happened to discover that there's some sort of a weird stigma about a woman doing things alone. I don't get that, maybe someone out there can make it clear to me. Just yesterday evening, I was telling a guy friend of mine, a friend who I know wants to be more than a friend,  about my desire to go to Great America before the summer is over, and I won't be able to enjoy any of the rides, especially the addition of a new roller coaster designed after the newest Batman movie, The Dark Knight.  For those of you not from the Chicagoland area, Great America is a nearby theme park full of roller coasters, water rides, etc, similar to Great Adventure or Disneyland, but with Bugs Bunny instead of Mickey Mouse. Well, lo and behold, he starts hemming and hawing, like he was assuming and therefore expecting me to just ask him to take me. Personally, I don't know if I can stand certain people that long, including him. He's kind of boring. But, before it even got to that, I cut him off by saying that I planned on going by myself. Do you know what this S.O.B. did? He LAUGHED. As if that was funny. For some reason, I was slightly pissed. Not only did this guy proceed to say that he thought it funny because women need someone to go with to such a "big place" but also that he'd never think I would actually do it, because I'm "too afraid to be alone". I was shocked, because while this guy is a friend, I realized he doesn't know me too well. 

So it begs the question: Are women really too chicken to do things alone? Or are they just afraid of what others will think?

I'm not. I haven't really delved too into my history before writing this blog, because lord know who reads it, but I spent almost 3 years living on my own in Washington D.C. I lived in the dorms of Howard University for a year, and then I moved out and got my own place for two years after. I worked a full-time job, went to school and socialized, all on my own. I had no escort from the train to my job or from the bus to my job or anywhere else I went. If I went to a club, (which I spent about 50% of my time there doing), I was going solo, sometimes to meet folks, sometimes not. When I was too drunk to even see straight, I called cabs. Hell, I even puked in the backseat of one. (I gave that guy a $40 tip on a $10 fare for that one). And when I went to Adams Morgan for late night pizza and beer, and was hit on by guys from American, Georgetown, George Washington and Catholic, I was solo. So, it kind of hurt my heart that this guy thought I was that dependent on company, specifically male company to escort me on my adventures of an outing. 

So, I've decided, as soon as my car is ready, I'm taking myself to Great America for the day. Alone. Even though now, it seems like there are plenty of guys willing to take me. How's that for irony?

*Ashley Robin*

So Much Heartache and Not Enuf Time

Hey Everyone,

I haven't been up to posting in a little while mainly because the past few days, I've been living on eggshells. Just to sum up for those who don't know, I'm a very hard person to get to know. I tend to keep my feelings to myself, and build up walls of protection from outsiders. Some could say it's issues from my mom or my dad, whatever-they can kick rocks, but it's just because I don't want to be hurt. It was so bad in high school that my nickname amongst my posse was "Shady", just because I played my cards close to the chest and had no problem lashing out to those who hurt me in any manner. It was my way of protecting myself. Plain and simple. Anyway, when I first came to Chicago, I was a very sad little girl. In a lot of ways, I felt alone and I had no idea if I'd ever be friends with anyone. I was confused, depressed and just out of sorts adjusting to a life in the Midwest. Well, that soon changed with the unlikely friendship that Kevin gave me.

Kevin is the one person I've been able to turn to when I had to experience all the dramatic events of life, from losing someone close to me, to starting a new life in a new place and finding myself, and even being my moral compass when I felt lost. It was no surprise that he felt he could turn to me, and on one night in 2002, a night that I will never forget for the rest of my life, as I studied and resided in Washington D.C, he told me he had leukemia. To be specific, he had acute lymphoblastic leukemia, and he was diagnosed when he noticed his lymph nodes were enlarged, and after tests, found that his spleen was slightly enlarged as well. That phone call was the worst because he sounded so sad, very unlike the usual rambunctious style of his usual conversations. He seemed sad, but hopeful, and so I was as well.

I researched it for hours after talking to him. I found out the symptoms, the treatment, the life expectancy, all of it and was unsatisfied. I questioned medical students, talked to doctors, did as much research as I could until I felt like I knew all there was to know. When he called me after the doctors had officially diagnosed him, I asked him for his doctor's information, and with his permission, spoke to his doctor for hours about his condition. While Kevin focused on getting better, I focused on the statistics. I wondered out loud if chemo, radiation and surgery were viable treatments for him, due to his slow immune system, and I was the one who took a week off from school to return to Chicago so that he could have my hand to hold while he went in for exploratory surgery. When he couldn't walk, he leaned on me, and when he couldn't get up from the bed to hug me, I climbed in the bed with him. When he couldn't bathe, I washed him and shaved his face, and I was his shoulder to cry on. I'd seen more sides of him than anyone, and I told him, I promised him, that even though the cancer was in his body, it would be our fight, and I would never leave him to fight alone.

In retrospect, those two years I was away from him while in DC were the most terrible, because I could not see him everyday or talk to him every second. When I started to realize that the school was not the school I wanted, I began to think, "If I returned home, I could be there..." and so, I left. Partly for Kevin, partly for me, all because I knew if the shoe was on the other food, he'd have done it for me, no hesitation. When he got better in 2005, was deemed cancer-free and was told by his doctors that he could go to school, I was the happiest person in the world. I saw him drive off to Georgetown and I thought life would be perfect for him after that...and I thought the world had yet to see all that he had to offer. In some ways, I would prove to be wrong.

He started his degree in the fall of 2005. He wanted to be a doctor. He wanted to help people who had the same illness he did, and gain as much understanding of the science that involves cancer in the human body...he volunteered at a children's cancer ward, and he spent time reading about cancer cells. He often spoke candidly about his illness, and would start the statements with "I am a cancer survivor." As the year progressed, he started to develop a general exhaustion. He'd sleep whenever he wasn't in class, and he'd pick at food. We started weekly iChat sessions, and I saw his skin texture change, his eyes become hollow and all the weight he'd gained go away. So, in the fall of 2006, when the change was too much for me to bear, I asked him to go to the doctor. He went, and when he came back, the prognosis was horrible, the cancer had returned. This time, it was cancer in his blood.

So, because it was around Christmas break, he decided that he'd return to Chicago to get his treatments, and return in time to make up his missed classes during the summer, and resume his schedule in the fall semester of 2007. He came home, in his Georgetown sweats and I barely recognized him, this thin man who resembled my close friend, whose eyes told stories of pain, heartache and disappointment, but mostly of frustration with himself for falling ill. I spotted him, and when I saw him, I threw my arms around him and we cried. He smelled like Kevin, he smelled like home. 

I can remember the day of the blood transfusion, how we all waited while the doctors drained as much blood out of Kevin as they could, and infused him with the blood all of Kevin's friends and I gave them earlier. I actually gave the doctors more than I was supposed to, but I did not mind because for once, my exhaustion matched Kevin's. I stayed with him until he woke up, and I watched as the color returned to his face, as his eyes became clearer and he smiled that broad grin of his...he only asked me one thing, "When can we eat?" I knew then he was better, that my dearest friend, who ate family dinners from Pepe's like most people eat a White Castle cheeseburger, had returned. Days later, he had a bone marrow transplant, and had to spend two days in an isolation chamber, but he wrote things constantly. He didn't sleep, and all he thought of was things to do when he was out of his "medical jail". He wanted to see the Louvre in Paris, the Mountains of Colorado, the waters of the Nile. In those times, he had so many dreams.

He would return to Georgetown for two more semesters, and excelled in areas of science, specifically chemistry and biology, almost as if he understood the books without reading them, since the story of cells and their division had ravaged 5 years of his life. Finally, after falling ill again and receiving a so-so prognosis, he decided to return to Chicago for a second opinion and be with his family, his friends and me. He would go through chemo again, as well as surgeries to remove one of his kidneys, part of his liver and scar tissues on his lungs, and after changing his diet, forgoing red meat, and eating more holistically, drinking tea and working out in the gym, he became stronger, and gained all his weight back. He was deemed strong enough to transfer to a local school and take classes there for a semester. However, after falling ill in May of 2008, after he made a declaration that he was not going to subject himself to any further treatment; he was told that the cancer had gone to the one place they were hoping it did not travel to: his pancreas.

When they told him, his eyes were teary and he again felt that same cloud of disappointment that hindered him before, he slumped in the chair and let his weight collapse into it, and he looked at me. I kept looking at the doctor, and I asked what I knew Kevin wanted to, but couldn't. "How long?" The doctor took a breath and looked at the two of us, and told us that because Kevin was opting against treatment, depending on how aggressive it was, it could be weeks or months. Not years. Without looking at Kevin, I took his hand and held it. Before I could ask, I heard his voice ask, "What can we do?" The doctor said, "We will figure it out." But I knew that Kevin already knew what he wanted to do.

For years, it had been our battle, and our fight. But I knew that it was time to let him fight it alone. But how to let him go? How to kiss him and tell him I loved him, letting him carry the burden of the worrying and the fighting alone? How to subject him to such a harsh concept? We both knew it would be a hard idea for me, so due to that and other reasons, Kevin went to California to be with his grandmother..to let her care for him in his supposed final days. Kevin's dream didn't become about seeing the world and all of its beauty, it became simply just to be able to live in it. He began to distance himself from me, to not try to lean on me as much during the time he spent in California, to worry more about being with his dad and his grandmother, to spend his days surfing and walking the beach, and to spend his nights sitting by the ocean.

Then Friday, he fell into a coma after his heart stopped. This happened once before, but he woke up right away. Now, it's not the case. Part of me wants him to wake up, and part of me is ready to let him sleep forever...rest from the pain, the sorrow and the misery of this world. I don't know which one to pray for, and I find myself so conflicted. I don't want him to die, but how much longer will he live? I just pray that he wakes up and walks out of the hospital- one of his least favorite places to be and hopefully, not the last.