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So there I was, back in my old room. Somehow it seemed smaller from what I remembered. Somehow the walls seemed to close in. This was strange as I had not grown physically any bigger. Time away had changed things. I didn’t have the peace I once knew while lying in my bed. I didn’t feel as comfortable as I once had on the couches in the living room. It was like I had been disconnected from the raggedy old raised ranch that I once so loved. The overgrown grass mixed with weeds in the yard seemed taller than I remembered, and the pink paint peeling off the walls in my room seemed more severe than I once recalled.

Nonetheless, I knew it was time for me to rest. I told myself, “I would be better in a few weeks.” After all, I had a friend who did get better after only a few weeks with the infection.  I wasn’t actually even feeling all that bad. I mean I was tired. I was achy and sore from time to time. But part of me was secretly happy for this break. Part of me was secretly thankful not to be in class. I knew I shouldn’t feel that way. But my soul was tired from all of the work. I desperately wanted time to breathe.

And with that, I began catching up on television shows. I began enjoying home cooked meals in bed. I began, to my surprise, enjoying the break from the stress and pressure of it all. I was surprised as the days passed so also did my guilt for fear of missing classes.

Cards began to flood the mail. Cards from girls who missed their friend. Cards from roommates who said ‘things just weren’t the same’. Cards from classmates filled with encouragement for good health. Even a few cards from professors wishing me well. I clung to those cards, as they contained precious words from the people that had become my life. I missed them dearly. The distance was hard. Every day that passed felt like I was growing further and further away from my friends.

As I lie in bed, I couldn’t help but notice my heart begin to ache. I had made genuine friends. For the first time in my life, I felt I had a group that I belonged to. I had friends that understood me.  My mind was filled with memories of the good times and the laughter, and at the same time, deep sadness in realizing they would all go on without me. Life always goes on.

I looked around my room and wondered, “What was there for me here? Why was I back here? What was God doing?”

Two weeks went by, and I wasn’t any better. As the days passed, I felt myself getting weaker.  

Three days later I stepped into the sterile waiting room of Dr. Thompson. She was a doctor of internal medicine. My mom and I were brought back to the exam room and told to wait. Moments later Dr. Thompson entered with a big smile. She was a heavy set woman with short brown hair and a perfectly pressed white lab coat. She began her exam on me, pressing on my abdomen. “Wow you have abs like Beyonce”, she stated. I immediately smiled and felt comfortable with her. Seconds later she noted my spleen. The spleen is not typically felt on exam due to its small size and location (hidden behind the rib cage). She noted mine had over doubled in size and was protruding through my abdominal wall, as she could easily palpate it on exam. She informed me this was an indicator of many things, one of which is severe mononucleosis. She wanted to do some lab work. She wanted me to come back.

I didn’t want to come back. I didn’t want to do lab work. I wanted to get better and get on with my life. I had plans, plans to help, plans to learn. This was messing everything up.