23. When It Rains, It Pours...

"There is a sacredness in tears.  They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.  They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love." 

~Washington Irving 

Well.  I think this is the longest time since I started blogging that I haven't published an entry.  But let me shed a little light on the reasons for that - first of all, it's that miserable time at school called "reading period."  Reading period?  Doesn't sound that bad, right?  It might not be...if it weren't for the fact that the sole purpose of reading period is to prepare for the rather daunting exams that cover an entire semester's worth of work and constitute the sole basis of our final grades in four major classes.  And considering the hype that occurs among a group of ultra-competitive, sleep-deprived, just-barely-graduated-from-college, stressed and overly anxious first year law school students operating on little real world experience, I guess I shouldn't be that surprised when my classmates act like this is the most important thing they've ever done.  On the other hand, considering my perspective on the true meaning of the word "miserable," this is nothing.  I've had to learn to tune out the frantic conversations and excited chatter that surrounds me as I try to escape from the law school building at the end of each day in peace without being bombarded by information about what everyone else is doing to cram for these exams.


The other rather major reason is that after suffering from two kidney stones already this semester, I thought I might, by some unfortunate stroke of luck, have yet another one.  The pain and discomfort got bad enough that I finally caved and went to the nearest urgent care facility a few days ago to get checked out.  After taking my temperature (a whopping 103 degrees) and noting my racing pulse (150 beats per minute), the physician told me there was nothing she could do and sent me on my way to the dreaded ER.  After taking note of my symptoms - nausea, vomiting, uncontrollable shaking, and lower right abdominal pain - the ER doctor ordered various blood tests and a standard cat scan (which also included some not-so-pleasant, not-so-standard component procedures ...I"ll spare you the fun-filled details).  After all was said and done, the doctor returned to my room about an hour later to tell my mom and I that he had some good news...and some bad news.  The good news?  That he knew exactly what was wrong with me.  The bad news?  The cat scan indicated pretty conclusively that I had appendicitis.  My heart sank.  As he explained the details of the condition to me and, ultimately, my immediate need for surgery, the tears began rolling down my cheeks.  I cried because I dreaded being in recovery from an invasive surgery while trying to studying for four huge law school exams.  I cried because I was in severe pain and shaking violently from a fever that continued to spike over 103 degrees.  And I cried mostly because I wanted more than anything for my husband to be there with me to hold my hand and tell me that everything would be okay.  As I lay there on those uncomfortable, starchy hospital sheets, my mind took me back to the summer of 2005 when I took not one but two trips to the ER with what the doctors thought might also be appendicitis...but turned out to be inflamed bowel syndrome.  Jon, exhausted though he was from having been up at at work since before 5AM, sat diligently by my bedside while we waited for hours for the doctors to come back and tell us that there wasn't much that could be done, besides waiting for the discomfort to pass.  At least this time around, there was something that could be done to fix me and take the pain away.  But, on the other hand, this time around I didn't have my sweet husband's face to wake up to when I came to from surgery.  That is something that no one can ever fix.


I had the appendectomy on Friday night and, fortunately, because my appendix hadn't ruptured yet, the operation was slightly less invasive that it might have been otherwise.  I'm at home now recovering, and I'm lucky enough to have my mom and good friends here with me to help me rest while still focusing for short periods of time on studying for those nasty upcoming exams.  But I will never stop wishing that Jon was here too to hold me when I collapse in bed with exhaustion each night.  I wish he was here to celebrate with me when I finish my exams and my first year of law school in a couple of weeks.  And I wish more than anything that I could wake up in the morning to his sweet face just one more time.  That would make exams, the hype surrounding those exams, recovering from surgery, ...and everything else in the world seem so incredibly easy.