A week of weakness

Commonly, the first week of a new school year is complicated by several reasonably unwelcoming unpleasantries. 37 cars searching in a parking structure with only a single open space (which is undoubtedly cramped by two ignorantly self-assured drivers on both sides), a class cancellation forcing an extra semester to an already seven-year-running undergraduate degree or managing to find the one desk in a classroom of at least 150 that violently squeaks at the slightest breath or whisper.

These are the typical obstacles I have come to expect and mentally prep for during the first week of instruction. However, This semester brings a new, bleak feeling to the mix of already anticipated anxiousness.

On July 1st of this year, a mere two months from this very day, I broke my neck on a life changing, shore breaking and bodysurfing wave in my home of Orange County. Fast forward about a month and a half, and I am moving my life to Sacramento along with my newly fused spine and nerve damaged, weak left arm.

Along with the aforementioned expected debacles of the dreaded first week, I have battled with my health insurance to change my network of coverage to seek a new, local neurologist and physical therapist, dealt with frustrations of all the physical limitations placed on me by my neurosurgeon (e.g., no lifting more than roughly 7% of my maximum capacity) and put up with walking/standing pains on a regular, daily basis.

Apparently, a fractured vertebra really can put a whole-lot-of hullabaloo in your plans.

This week has left me with some gawking stares from on-going strangers glaring at my scars, a sore arm from carrying my backpack by hand (to protect the fusion), frequent ice packs on my neck and back and some medications to boot. But my rarely seen optimistic self must mention that I have received a lot of warm wishes, hugs and concerned friends all wanting to help me with my situation.

This Wednesday, however, left me slightly heavyhearted. While burning time around campus between classes, I wandered into the Well for the first time since last semester. This was an especially depressing moment for me; my best memories of last year at Sac State, for the most part, were made in the Well. In fact, most of my friends in Sacramento were met through playing club volleyball and pickup basketball on campus. I was even an intramural league champ. Before my accident, I would always think about this semester's potential athletic endeavors; it was definitely what I was looking forward to the most about this school year. Now, I will not be able to do anything even remotely close to athletic competition for at least two years.

So long, recreation.

Despite all the negativity in this therapeutic writing, I am getting by better than I had expected. I made the decision to attend school late in the summer after some serious consideration of not taking any risks and staying home. This week has shown me some light at the end of the tunnel.

The uncommon, although uncommonly, may eventually run its course. However, when the uncommon becomes the turning page of life's next chapter, new priorities fall into place. This sheds a fresh light on previous school years' first weeks and puts a new perspective on old memories of then-perceived torment.



I still don't like the Iditarod trek made to campus after being forced to park behind the football field, though. Talk about a neck breaker...