When I was awoken on Sunday, there were a lot of doctors surrounding me. Creepy, I thought. I don't even remember how often I woke up to find doctors around my bed. One of them, the one in white coat removed my IV. He said, "You can go home, today." I closed my eyes but at the movement, I knew I didn't want to go home. Before I left, they did tell me that I could come back.

I didn't want to go home = I didn't want to get better = I didn't want to face the world again.

When I went home, I thought mom was going to let me go to school the next day or the whole week. During this week, my school sent me flowers. I received cards from my school (students and classmate). I received cards from friends.

So much denial = I didn't think I was sick enough = I am the treasurer of the Student Government Associate at my school.

My school and my mother communicated. They tried to get her to get me to take medical leave for the rest of semester but I refused. Their next trick was trying to get me to withdraw from two or three classes so I choose to withdraw from the business law and the black and white photography II class.

They tried to get me to stay home for more weeks but I refused. The second week, I was back to school but I couldn't go to class every single day. I was sick. No, I was not sick. My body was sick. The third week of class, I had dropped the calculus II and the psychology class. I wanted to take those classes so bad. So I kept what people considered to be the most difficult class: General Chemistry II.

I tried so hard in the second week but my body couldn't handle it. I would even feel like I was about to throw up every second. My teachers made sure they look at me every 30 seconds. I felt so dizzy. I was struggling. No easy task to go to school, to study and to be sick. The nurse was already away and preprare for me to come to her anytime during the day. It was like, I became their responsible. The workers hugged me as often. The workers and the students would ask me everyday how I am feeling today. Sometime I would pull back when students want to comfort me by placing their hand on me or around me. No harm done. I would wish my body wasn't too quick to pull back like it is scared.

Being one of the best and brightest student of the director of the disability service at school, she told me when I came back how she was shock and how she felt as soon as she found out in minutes what had happened. She had tried to get me to drop my classes.

My 52 years old friend, he drove me home after lab class on Thursday. We would talk like father and daughter. I could open up to him about anything. At the end semester, he had moved to Florida as plan to be close to his newborn grandson. Even he could see it in my face that I was so sick. When I was getting better, he made comment on how different I was looking.

My bestfriend drove me home after class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Every week, I would ask her what happened. Laugher echo from the mountain as if I didn't believe it at all. How is it possible that I fell that way and not even know how I fell down when the car hit me? So suddenly, the world had a movie theatre. I didn't know what was real. You mean to tell me that the minute the car drove my ankle, I fell backward with a turn and still I hit my head on the hard clay that separate the road and the grass by 4 inches in width and about 4 inches in height? Maybe I should take my ruler with me and go to the most traumatic place and measure.

No could stop me. I fear staying home alone during the day for 4 boring months = I fear I losing my treasurer position = I fear being shut away from the world = School is my life

sure fear = no concern = denial = refusing to let go of life