No, I was going to prove my life goal duality– love and a career. I didn’t survive Leukemia to settle, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to give up on either one of my passions.
I applied for school again, and The New England School of Communications graciously accepted my reinstatement. I knew the next two to four years would be tough, but I was planning on getting my and Travis’ cartoon show up and running.
This apartment was a surrealist breeding ground. Who knew that Travis and I could keep an apartment together? It was refreshing to have a roommate that did their share of cleaning, dishes, and trash removal. He even got the mail– without prompt! And we used to be at each other’s throats constantly!
Our friends, of both the former roommates and neighbor varieties, would also frequent our apartment. I remember one night, Shawn and I had been drinking a lot and I had seen Derek (the mutual friend that landlord, Trevor, and I shared) walk up our driveway. I thought it best to moon Derek as an innocent goof. Our windows were terrible at retaining any heat and were to be replaced soon; thus, I felt the cold exterior of the elements from outside upon my bare ass.
Scheduling was a bitch. Every one of us in the dish room staff was tired, fed up, and ready for a sense of normalcy. This renovation had worn itself thin; Day in, day out, we toiled away over this sweatbox, washing two hundred plus sets of dishes and hundreds more cafeteria trays in a machine built for a consumer-sized kitchen. The yearning for a creative outlet had never been so badgering.
And to make matters worse, all of the “input” that was requested by our bosses into the new dish room was ignored, and we began to see the errors in their new installation. Firstly, the machine was exorbitantly enormous and second, their “Three Month” construction phase was – predictably – a gross miscalculation at best and an empty promise at worst. Why was I wasting my time with this job? I initially applied to make more money, and now that I’m paying my bills down, I’m just as broke as I was before. I needed to take a hit to come out on top, and it seemed as though college was, once again, the answer.
During the second half of 2014, I underwent one of the most stressful moments in my life. I began to have random anxiety attacks that led to panic attacks. Now, I’m no stranger to these episodes, but these were unwarranted and not initiated by my own, usual provocations. No, these were an attack on my system, and I had no idea why they were happening. I went to the doctors, racked up thousands of dollars of specialist visits and tests & procedures and the doctor’s eventually diagnosed me with Crohn’s Disease. I knew people who had Crohn’s and in no way did I agree with the diagnosis. But the test to disprove it was a DNA marker test that would only rule it out as a cause if I had absolutely ZERO of the markers for Crohn’s, and the majority of the population has at least some of them.
Click through to hear the story of how it all came together and see each reaction from my brother & his fiancé, my Dad & stepmom, my Mom, my Goddaughter, and my Dad’s side of the family including my Memére.