to the bank.

Well I'm enjoying a weekend of freedom. My new semester begins today, but since I switched programs, I can't start a course until I meet with my mentor. That will happen on Monday. I logged in to see my degree plan and it says I will now graduate in July 2022. But that last semester only has 2 courses in it. So it won't take me until July. And it could be even sooner if I'm able to move quickly and accelerate a class here or there these next 3 semesters. Maybe I'll be done by January 2022. Anyway. Even if it IS July 2022. That's only 2 years. I did a full semester once, I can do it 3 more times, right? It's so close I can taste it.

So anyway, back to my freedom. What am I doing with it? Honestly? Not much. I've done some laundry and cleaned out the drain to my bathroom sink. If you ask me, that's quite an accomplishment. Gross. But an accomplishment none the less. I've been journaling and reading and watching movies while coloring. Which movies, you may ask? Jurassic World first of all. Gosh I love that movie for some reason. And I'm about halfway through Independence Day. The first one. Yet another classic. Maybe we'll play a game or something this afternoon. Who knows.

One of my coloring pages. Proud to be a misfit.

It's not too stinking hot right now on the porch with the fan on, so I'm blogging outside. Everyone else is in the pool, but I'm not really feeling it today. It's cloudy and looks like it's going to start pouring down rain at any moment. It's nice to be outside, though. And eventually everyone will get out and we'll hang out on the porch and chat. Or just sit there ignoring each other and doing our own thing. Either way it's nice. I love my people.

So yesterday I had an adventure. I've had several people tell me they think I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. It's a connective tissue disorder and there are several types. My orthopedic surgeon and physical therapist made the prediction because my joints are hypermobile and I tear easily through sutures. Hence my repeated labral tears and multiple surgeries. I was told I should probably see someone just to confirm the diagnosis and make sure I didn't have any of the more serious varieties of the syndrome. Now that shouldn't be too difficult, right?

Wrong.

Finding someone who even knows what you're talking about is difficult. Finding someone who will see you for it is even harder. And finding someone who will actually take insurance for it is practically impossible. But at long last I found a physician at Johns Hopkins who was willing to see me and took my insurance. I had to wait like 3 months for an appointment, but whatever. At long last the day was here.

Of course it was pouring down rain yesterday morning and I hate driving downtown. So much anxiety. It was a little better because I actually knew where I was going. Hopkins is where I had to take my mom for her appointments and surgery when she fractured her elbow. So it wasn't totally new territory. Still, not my favorite. But the stars aligned, I made no wrong turns, and the parking garage was not full (thank you, corona virus). And all the buildings are connected by the main loop, so I didn't have to walk in the rain one bit.

Things are tight down there at Hopkins. I couldn't bring anyone with me. I had to say I had an appointment and then get a wristband to prove I was legit. Then they asked me where I was going. They were like, "Oh, you need a different wrist band to go there." I shrugged my shoulders and took the brown band for the Meyer building. Which is at the very back of the campus.

I made it to the Meyer building just fine. But once I got there, boy was it a chore finding the right place. I don't know how you're magically supposed to know which doors to walk through to get to where I needed to be. But I quickly learned why I needed a different wrist band and got some weird looks. The Meyer building is home to psychiatry as well as physical medicine. I've never been treated for my eating disorder at Hopkins, but I can now say I've been there lol.

Anyway. The appointment was so anticlimactic. I didn't fill out a single piece of paper. Not one. No medical history or anything like that. The resident asked me a few random questions. I had typed up paper with my symptoms, meds, allergies, surgeries, and diagnoses. So I gave her that and she was like "Oh, thanks!" So then she went and got the doctor I was seeing. He seemed like a nice guy. Did all the tests to see where I landed on the Beighton Scale. I'm an 8. Which means yes, I do have the hypermobility type of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. Ta da.

I've had a recent echocardiogram, so he doesn't think I have any of the more serious types. He ruled out POTS. And that was it. He said to call if I started having problems with my knees or elbows and they'd fit me for braces. Then sent me on my way.

Like I said. Anticlimactic. I don't really know what I expected. There's not really anything they do for it. It's just useful information to have going forward. When I'd mention to medical professionals that I might have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, they were always like, "Yes, but have you been DIAGNOSED?" Now I can say yes.

So now I have another diagnosis to add to the list. Wahoo.

There might be more to come from a different medical professional, but I'm not going to count my chickens before they hatch. Which is sadly a very bad pun. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Being at Hopkins brought back some bad memories. November 2019 was rough. Seeing my mom break her elbow and being in so much pain and not being able to do anything but sit and watch. Sitting in ERs and waiting rooms. Wandering hospital corridors. Trying to be strong. Trying not to break down sobbing. All while knowing that my dad was struggling with his own health issues. I can't think about it too much because it just makes me cry. I honestly don't know how I survived some of those moments. Frequently all by myself.

And this past week was heavy, man. To see people aging. People getting sick. People dying. People struggling to do daily tasks. It weighs on me and it breaks my heart. Some of these people I know and some are complete strangers. It just slaps me in the face and makes me look at the world and the people I love. To know that...one day...they won't be there. Because the world is harsh and life is short.

Gosh, that got depressing really fast. I guess what I'm trying to say is we've gotta make the most out of what we've got. And that means taking care of ourselves. It's easy to forget. It's easy to push our needs to the side and care for others. It's easy to ignore the fact that we're human. Not superheroes. That our bodies and minds require attention, care, compassion, and--at times--assistance. And that that's ok. It doesn't indicate weakness. It indicates humanity. And as much as being a human can suck sometimes, I'm lucky to be one. I know that. I'm made in God's image. And that makes me precious. Which means you're precious, too.

So go to therapy or the doctor or talk to a friend or do some meditation or pray or journal or do what you've gotta do. But whatever it is, take care of yourself, my friend. Because the world will never be the same without you. And you can take that one to the bank.