My freshman year of college did it’s best to break me, but my ever present determination wouldn’t allow me to shatter. The silver lining during my freshman year was becoming aware of recurring symptoms I had my whole life. First and foremost: I was, and still am, a person of strict routine. If my routine breaks, my equilibrium becomes unbalanced: riding a bike without a helmet. Additionally, my focus and concentration lacked, which I attributed to lessons being boring; this happens when taking General Education classes. I wasn’t yet able to give myself credit for making it out of my freshman year alive.
Fortunately, I had a check-up with my doctor shortly after school ended. When she asked me how I was feeling, I decided to stop hiding. Despite the numbers saying I was normal, I felt anything but. I told her the symptoms I’d been feeling. I told her I needed help before something I regret happens. I finally took ownership of my health, and my mindset took a 180 degree turn. She set up appointments with doctors who would become lifesavers.
Prior to meeting my Nurse Practioner, I took a series of tests to help diagnose me. My legs jittered as I anxiously waited for my name to be called. My mother kept asking me if I was okay, only raising my nerves. My name was finally called, and I walked as confidently as I could towards the door. Thankfully, the NP was very welcoming. After telling her about myself, she told me my results: Generalized Anxiety Disorder, A.D.D., and Bipolar. Hearing them aloud brought a sense of failure, but something absent before: hope. The words meant nothing because it changed nothing, yet it changed everything. I’d been living with the symptoms, but was too afraid to seek care. My NP reassured me I would be taken care of, and prescribed a low dosage of medications to begin balancing chemicals in my body. I took them as I was instructed. This became a big part of my morning and night routine for years to come.
I walked into the same waiting room the next day, to see my new Psychologist. I was still nervous, despite the familiar setting. I knew I had to be open and honest, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to help me. I felt it was a recording of the day before. He asked a question, waited for my response, and jotted down what I said; my every move was being examined. I was doing my best to answer questions, but there wasn’t depth to the answers. The trust wasn’t yet established. I needed to provide more than basic answers to fully grasp the gravity of what I was living with.
Over the next 4 years, I saw the same NP and the same Psychologist; my confidence and trust grew over time. More importantly, we became friends. While some of the questions were repetitive, they were necessary; my life was at stake. Every time my medication changed, I had to see my NP a week later to check my levels. I had to get my blood drawn every 3 months. When I didn’t know what to talk about, I nervously waited for a prompt, and responded accordingly. Seeing them became part of my new routine, helping keep my equilibrium balanced; they were my helmet. During this time, we found I had an underactive thyroid: more medication to counter the side effects.
I’m forever indebted to both of them, as well as the support staff I came to know. I know without their help, I wouldn’t be here. I felt my wings spreading and was ready to fly!
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