Recalculating

"Turn right. Continue for 1.3 miles and then keep left. In 500 feet turn left." (You miss the turn.) "Recalculating."

We have probably all heard the GPS in our cars tell us that it is "recalculating" because we made some sort of driving error. In the last 24 hours, my life has done its own version of "recalculating." Just when I thought things might be starting to arrange themselves back into place, I encountered another hill health-wise and a dead end in one of my future plans.

I woke up yesterday morning with a missed call and voicemail from my doctor. Her pleasant voice asked that I return her call at my earliest convenience. I was appreciative of the fact that she personally called me, instead of having a nurse relay the information. (I must have still been a little sleepy, because normally this should have lit a lightbulb that something must be wrong.) I returned her call right away and talked for a little bit about how I was feeling and any questions I had. She then proceeded to tell me that after reviewing my scans, my thymus gland, which sits between the collar bones and lungs, had picked up a significant amount of the radiation. (Something the radiologist did not mention last week. Surprise, surprise.) However, there were no tumor markers present. What all of this means is that either the thymus gland just randomly decided to absorb some of the radiation or that the cancer has spread there as well. They can't tell for sure because if it was definitely in the thymus, the tumor markers would have showed up. But, the cancer could just be starting to attack and was not detectable yet by the markers. So, a CT scan has been ordered before my next appointment with her in March. This will give her a better idea of what exactly is going on. Now some of you, like my family, are probably questioning why they are waiting so long to do the scan. There are a couple of reasons:  they want the radiation to have a chance to leave my body so that the scan is valid, and if it is the cancer, I would either need surgery or more treatment, both of which I could not undergo until later anyway.

Like I said, I have reached another hill to climb on this adventure.

Then evening rolled around. I found out last Friday before my scans that I would be informed if I was accepted to my top medical school of choice on Wednesday evening (last night). It goes without saying that as much as I have tried to block it out of my mind, I was constantly thinking about it. I have been dreaming of and waiting for this day since at least my senior year of high school. To make the day go by faster, I went to lunch with my priest, caught up on some homework, and finished The Hunger Games, which I highly recommend you read. And because it was Wednesday, that meant my brother and I would be having dinner with our grandparents. It's a tradition we had every week while I was in high school, and Kyle has continued since I have been in college.

Finally the moment came. My phone rang. The conversation was brief, and I was told that I was not accepted. And just like that, it was over. Kind of like when you're bandaged after a procedure and you return a week later to have it removed. One quick rip and it's done, but the redness is a visible reminder and the sting lasts long after it has been removed. And if there's a scar, it's something you'll never forget. Naturally I could not fight back the tears even though I was trying so hard to stay strong. My night was rough to say the least. My eyes were red, the sting made my body numb, and my heart had been scarred.

This was the dead end I reached. Recalculating.

Now, I should mention that I debated a long time before deciding to share this with all of you. Who likes to admit to the world that they failed at something they have tirelessly been working on for the past 4 years? But after having some time to process everything, I know I have not failed.

There are still two wonderful, top medical schools I am waiting to hear from. And my backup plan if I am not accepted anywhere this year, would also be a dream come true. Not the one I have planned on for so long, but one that would be sure to bring peace and joy. I would travel to Kenya and serve as a medical intern for at least 2 months, probably 3. Living with a host family, working in the local hospital, helping at AIDS orphanages, and traveling to rural areas to provide all forms of medical care. One of the past interns told me that her favorite area of specialty was in the maternity ward. She witnessed over 10 deliveries and actually did 3 herself! After returning home, the plan would be to move to California and live with my best friend, while getting a job as a surgical technician or some other medical opportunity. All the while, I would be preparing and reapplying to medical schools to begin in the Fall of 2013.

Don't get me wrong, I wish more than anything to begin medical school this Fall. But I also know that it may not be part of God's plan for me. During the mess of my night, my mom came to my room to remind of me of one of my favorite quotes. She said she had just looked at my Facebook page and found it. "Trust that rejection in any form, from anyone, is simply God's way of saying, 'Careful kiddo. You're going the wrong way.'" It was then I felt the comfort that everything would work out like it is supposed to.

The support I have received already has been amazing. My grandpa called me and said, "They missed a good one." Shortly after, my grandma called and shared stories of how her and my grandpa had both "failed" in their lives and how wonderful it all turned out to be. And last night, my other grandma called my mom to see if I had heard anything. She had remembered that I was going to find out the news that day. That may not seem like a big deal, but to my family it was huge. Over the years she has suffered a stroke, subdural hematoma, and subsequent health complications, so to have her remember so vividly something that many people easily forgot, brought tears to my eyes. I woke up this morning and decided nothing sounded better than a visit to grandma's. I don't have my car back home, and everyone else was gone, so I bundled up and set out for a walk to her house. Before I left, she made me Google how far it was going to be. She was worried I would be too cold or wouldn't have the strength. It is only a little over a mile away and I reassured her I would be just fine. The fresh air was exactly what I needed and the walk was one step closer to getting my stamina back. Her advice to me was that something better was waiting for me; that God has plans. Her call and visit were the perfect reminder of what life is truly about:  enjoying every moment with the one's you love because you never know when those moments will end.

So, I have not failed. Even though it does feel like it at times. The GPS of my life has simply been adjusted by the hands of God and is recalculating to put me on the right path. Thank goodness someone knows where my life is headed, because the things I was once so sure about have become foggy. But more than anything, I still have so much to be grateful for. I can think of hundred's of situations that are far worse than mine.

To end, I'll share another favorite quote:
"Faith is believing that one of two things will happen:  that there will be something solid for you to stand on, or that you will be taught to fly."

With the solid support of my ideas of the future being pulled out from under me, I cannot wait to spread my wings and fly.