At the risk of sounding like a Debbie-downer, I want to talk about something very serious that happened to a friend of mine going on 4 years ago. Her birthday was exactly a month before mine, so I tend to think of her on this day. If you caught the was part, you see where I'm going. My friend was in a drunken hit-and-run that she did not survive. It was instantaneous. Not only was she a harmless pedestrian crossing the street, but the driver in question ran a red light at 80mph and already had 2 DWI's under her belt. She had no right to be driving. You might be wondering what this has to do with Cushing's? I want to convey what grief does to a person and how it puts stress on an already stressed body and mind. My mom says that I was never really the same after she died. It seemed to take a toll on me in some strange ways. I had this fear of crossing the street that bordered panic attacks. In retrospect, I don't think it was just my friend's death causing it. I already had Cushing's symptoms that were coming out of the woodwork in light of the trauma I felt. When it first happened, I had one friend in particular who hovered over me like a hawk or I probably would've just sat in my room all day staring at the wall. He made me go to class and I spent more time in his dorm than mine. This was one of many relationships to come where I'd cling to them like I had nothing else to keep me well. I imagined what happened acutely. I seemed to obsess about it at night. I withdrew from one class and then applied to transfer to a different college. I felt like it was the change I'd been needing for a long time. Fight or flight? I tried to do everything right. I went to a counselor. I asked for study advice from the academic help center. Somehow, I still flunked out at this new school I wanted to be at enough to leave my old friends behind. I retained information better when I wasn't stressed or tired, which wasn't often. Many people thought I was flaky, lazy, inconsiderate and immature. None of these words sound like who I pride myself on being. It was more like I was trying to avoid debilitating stress even if it was a responsibility or something I'd chosen to do. I couldn't seem to avoid crashing despite doing little. I used to get by at least. I had migraines and got worse at sleeping. How was I supposed to know it wasn't just grief or depression or tough classes? My life came down to distractions. If I had none, I sunk far. I tried anti-depressants. They didn't work. It seemed like I fell off the horse every time I got on. I couldn't even handle the pony rides anymore. For the next few years, I failed more classes and went through various jobs. I found great solace in a language camp job for two summers. I didn't let on how sad I was when I didn't get hired the third time. I knew why. Nobody thought I was capable of anything and cried about everything. It probably seemed like I was indifferent about it. More like I gave up. I moved on from her death in time, yet things continued to be up and down for me. The point is don't drink and drive. I don't hate the young lady who did this. In fact, I heard she has a child who is probably suffering by having her in the system. It won't change anything. My other point is this obviously had a big impact on me. I no longer think that I was simply grieving. I was never the same because I was no longer healthy enough. I can say I'm not afraid of crossing streets now. I couldn't say that before surgery. Melissa Ahrens or "Mo" died September 21st, 2008. She will always be loved and missed. Now onto my birthday! The golden one!
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