My Accident.

May

Anytime a group of students live together - especially girls - somebody is singled out.  She is donned the roommate that everyone else can gossip about.  Perhaps it's the roommate with hygene issues, the one who borrows without asking, the newest of the group, the foreign exchange student, the spoilt one - for whatever reason, she is the odd man out. 

I live in a suite-style dorm with six other girls.  I shared a room with one - we'll call her Natalie.  Natalie and I were the only freshman, and we both did our own thing while the rest of the girls stayed pretty close.  Neither of us spent much time in the suite, but Natalie was the one singled out to be "that roommate that nobody likes".  Perhaps it was because of her nightly party-going, or the continuous stream of men in and out of our room, or just the fact she didn't really care what the suitemates thought...at any rate, I liked her.  I loved walking into the room and hearing her sigh, "May we NEED to talk, there's this guy...".  We both had our own groups of friends, and while I wasn't a partier, I had spent a year in Europe and could swap stories.  I thought she was fun and full of life and that wild card everyone needs as a friend.

The other suitemates didn't agree.  The conversations I would overhear about Natalie, a girl none of them really took the time to get to know, upset me so much I would storm out of my room to set them straight.  They spread rumors about the guys she had over and the things they did together, about her home life, about pregnancy scares that never occured.  Anytime something was left a mess, they blamed her.  Whenever a noise woke one suitemate up, they blamed her.  They had friends over who never met Natalie but still knew these stories quote and verse.  It made me sick, especially when they tried to milk me for details. 

I speak in past tense because about half-way through the semester, Natalie started getting really sick.  I would come into the room midday and she would be asleep in bed, a trash bin close by.  She was too weak to go to class, and had too much pain to eat.  The next several weeks involved regular visits to the health clinic for tests.  The vials of blood they took from her could start a bank.  But no one could really say what was wrong.

Now the suitemates had something even juicier to gossip about.  Anytime one felt even a little groggy, it MUST be what Natalie had.  They also speculated it might be some heinous STD caught from sex or a 'dirty needle'.  At any rate, it must have been her own fault.

Natalie was diagnosed with several problems as the weeks wore on.  A Giardia Infection, pneumonia, lactose and gluten intolerance, yes, an STD...but despite treating all of these, she kept getting sicker and sicker.  She deteriorated like cut flowers without water, and I couldn't help her.  Whatever was wrong was serious.  As finals approached, she began fighting the school policy, begging to be allowed to move off campus where she could be in a cleaner environment and cook her own meals (the cafeteria could not cater to her new needs).  She wasn't doing well scholastically, and she still didn't have the strength she needed.

Natalie was finally allowed to move out.  She is continuing testing, and doctors are thinking it may be the early signs of Crohn's Disease.  They are more worried that she may have an immunity-disorder which isn't showing up yet on the tests.

My suitemates pulled me aside about a week after she relocated and begged me to fill them in.  They joked that they couldn't keep up with the gossip lately, that she wasn't around enough to even double check new rumors.  I gave a strained smile and insisted she could move out and they wouldn't even notice.  They only laughed; they didn't know.

I hate how Natalie has to deal with all of this.  And I hate the way she was treated by my suitemates.

Natalie remains my friend.

M

I went ice skating with my mom and the foreign exchange students she mentors.  After about an hour, we headed over to the near-by mall to eat.  While waiting in line, I started feeling queasy and lightheaded.  By the time my food was ready, I just grabbed my water and collapsed on the floor.  When I tried to stand up and walk to the bathroom, my vision clouded over and I began heaving.  I made it to the bathroom and started regaining my sight.  A nearby woman asked if someone was with me.  Then my vision clouded over again, and everyone's voices sounded far off and muffled.  I collapsed again, apparently on top of another woman.  I couldn't control anything, I was just trying to stay conscious.  I waited on the floor for a bit until I could stand.  I could see in the mirror how pale I was, and my skin was soaking wet.  After a few minutes I walked back into the food court.  I felt fine, but still not up to eating. 

It was a really scary ordeal, and I can't find a cause.  This is the second time it has happened since I came home.  I ate, although I might have been dehydrated.  I've also experienced a few splitting frontal headaches that left me nautious and crying while at school.

My mom is insisting I go to the doctor.  I'm worried they are linked to my accident last summer, where the doctors were stumped that I didn't seem to have any brain damage.  It's not fun, and not something I want to worry about.

Hopefully the new year isn't full of incidents like this that bring me back to a night I refuse to remember.

May