February

February was a whirlwind of a month, where I was able to hit both my lowest and highest point in just 29 days, so adjust your reading glasses, because you're in for a crazy month of a story.

At the beginning of the month, the pain continued. However, I woke up early one Saturday morning with a severe pain in my lower right abdomen. I went to the bathroom, and immediately passed out. My mom helped me back to the bed, but it wasn't long before I was throwing up. I'd never had anything burst, but I couldn't help but thinking it was my appendix burst. As the throwing up continued, the pain worsened. I tried to get comfortable, but the pain remained the same. We tried the heating pad, but no matter what I did the throwing up and bursting pain continued. At a loss as of what to do, we began calling my "Recovery Team" and getting ready to go to the hospital. My mom helped me get out of the vomit-soaked clothes, and into some comfortable hospital clothes. I tried to walk to the bathroom, but only took a few steps before I collapsed and was vomitting all over the floor. I was scared. I was exhausted. But most of all I just wanted to know what was going on. My dad had to carry me out to the living room because I couldn't even walk just in time for the fire department and paramedics to show up, run an IV, and transport me to the hospital by ambulance.

The entire ride over, the paramedics caught my puke and pumped pain medication and anti nausea medication into my IV. Thank God, I had pulled myself together long enough to call Nick and tell him what was going on. My mom rode in the ambulance, my dad followed the ambulance, and luckily Zach was spending the night at a friend's house, so he didn't have to be caught up in more of my medical drama.

The only thing that kept me calm was listening to my mom's voice at the front of the car, talking to the paramedic that was driving. The pain was unbearable. The pain medication that the paramedic warned me "may or may not stop my heart" did nothing for me as my pain went from a 13 to a 15.

We got checked in at the hospital and set up with more pain medication and anti nausea medication while they ran tests on my blood. It was not even 7:00 and I was checked into the hospital until they figured out what was wrong with me. Thank goodness I had some distracting Playhouse Disney television shows to ease my mind.

Everyone was contacted, we all already had pictures up on Facebook, and everyone else was just now rolling out of bed. An MRI was ran and they gave me an inconclusive result that I was passing kidney stones. Because the contrast hadn't made everything completely clear, they didn't want to misdiagnose me. So they send me home with some anti nausea medication, pain killers, and an order to get an MRI done as a follow up.

My lowest point was February. It was so unfair that I had gone back to school and was getting better only to be put back in bed with worst pain than ever. I let myself fall and didn't even try to pick myself up. I was on a strict diet, in pain, and I felt my teenage years slipping away from me in pain. I didn't want to wake up another day that I had to be in pain. And all I could do was tell everyone I was okay, because they wouldn't understand. No one likes a complainer.

On Valentines day, I sat in a new doctor's office where it was confirmed I was passing kidney stones and for two more weeks, I laid in bed throwing up and passing out, until the toxic waste had cleared out of my body and when it had, I knew for sure.

For the first time in over ten months, I woke up with very little pain, and as I moved around the house and did a few chores, the pain came completely down until it had shrunk down to a 0 on a scale of 1-10.

For the first time in over ten months, I could be a teenager again. I could wake up without pain. I could walk without it hurting. I could take a car ride. I could do all the things I used to.

I knew I'd be behind, but on the following Monday, I decided for the third time I would take a try at school. This time was different. This time I knew I was going to get better. And I was going to be okay. I knew I was going to be behind the rest of my class and needed to do some catching up, but all I wanted was to be back to my normal, happy, healthy self and spend the day like everyone else does.

February was my highest point. Almost overnight, my health and my life had been returned to me. I was able to live my life and be a teenager, but it didn't come without a little work.

The night before I came back to school, I had the worst anxiety attack, I had ever had in my entire life. For the last ten months, my only goal was to get healthy and go back to school. I put all my energy into returning to my health and did everything I could. Home was my comfort zone. And now I was expected to go back to a place where I felt alone, where I was behind, and where I hadn't been for a year.

But I did it. On Monday, February 27th, of 2012, I went back to school for the third time, but it would be the last. I knew I was better this time. I knew I was going to be okay, and that's all that mattered to me. I would get caught up. My teachers would help me. All that mattered to me was that I was and would be okay.

I knew everything was going to be okay.