Exams and stuff

So, after the heaviness of the last post, I’m moving on to…EXAMS! My first exam was Music I believe, then French in the afternoon, Biology and RE the next day, I’m not going to recall ALL my GCSE exams. But firstly, I was rather pleased that I could actually do the exams, because there was always that chance that my operation could clash with them.

Anyway, I think that it took some of the stress away from the operation worry because I was so engrossed in the revision and stuff. I got through them all OK, and it was all over within a month. Now, usually people nowadays probably go out and celebrate the end of exams…What did I do? I got home after my final exam – History: Transformation of Surgery- actually, before I talk about end of exams, I need to say a bit about this course.

I knew back in Year 9 that the GCSE syllabus included 2 units on the development of Medicine and Surgery, but to be honest I can’t remember it making that much of an impact on me. By the end of year 10 however, once the prospect of surgery was at the forefront of my mind, studying medicine and surgery for a year DID NOT appeal. I did discuss this with my teacher, who was very supportive (which was good seeing as he was also my form tutor) – it was an interesting course, and if we were watching a video or something that I felt I couldn’t watch, then I was welcome to just leave. That was certainly encouraging, as in the past I’d got very hot and stressed during lessons covering: the black death, radiation (children’s TV programmes about nuclear meltdown are not great for your health), and something else that I can’t remember (probably dissection). SO, we started Year 11 and actually I was COMPLETELY fine, most of what we were learning was completely alien to the current health service anyway!

BACK TO EXAMS! So I finished my exam, went home, and…went to bed. Yes, I had some lunch and went to bed. Why? Well, that evening I was doing the Martlets Midnight Walk, which is a 13 mile walk at midnight, only for women.The Martlets is a local hospice, which is where a friend’s mum spent her last few months. It was my first year walking, and I thought I wouldn’t do it, but I did, and it took me around 4 and a half hours. I really wish I’d written down how long it actually took me!!! And then on the Saturday I spent the morning in bed. If you want to know more about the Midnight Walk, click here: http://www.themartlets.org.uk/midnight-walk/index.html.

This post took a bit of a different path than I thought, but please feel free to comment, the op related stuff will be coming very soon!


April 2012

Writing the date April 2012 is incredibly weird for me, because it sounds so recent. I have been umming and ahhing about writing this post, but I want to get on with writing this blog!

It was actually the very end of April 2012, and it was coming to the end of year 11. The days I want to tell you about is actually only vaguely related to scoliosis but they were incredibly hard for me on top of everything else. On the last Friday in April (I can’t remember the date) I was in Biology with friends and I was inbetween my best friend and someone else. They decided to mess around poking people with pens, and then my best friend got this red pen out and thought it would be funny to pretend it was a needle and poke me with it. I believe that I have trypanophobia (fear of needles) and to be honest even thinking about them makes me anxious. So I lashed out at her to stop her poking me, which worked, but changed everything – she started the silent treatment.

The following Monday she basically told me, in no uncertain terms, that she didn’t want to be friends with me. This set off almost as much crying as when I got told I’d need surgery, but it was a shock. The main reason I’m actually talking about it is that one of the reasons that I was given from her about ending the friendship, via the assistant pastoral leader, was that she felt pressured to support me.

This statement caused me to just cry even more. The one thing I didn’t expect was for any of my friends to support me. That sounds a bit mean, but I did not expect anyone to do anything for me, to understand that I was going through a hard time, yes, but nothing else. I understand that not many people knew about my situation, so the few who knew may have felt that no-one else knew, but I just found it so hard to say anything about it to anyone.

Luckily I found some people to hang around with, although they knew nothing about the operation situation. And by the way, me and my friend have pretty much made up now, and she was a great support, surprisingly!

I was going to write about more but I think I’ll leave it there, and post this quick before I regret it. I just feel I really need to write this so that, well I guess you can see how I was feeling and how others were feeling, and how I reacted to things. You can comment if you want, but please be nice.