#my podiatrist is going to be sad when I tell him about my ankle woes

[chronicillnesscaneffoffplease]

I graduated from my bachelor degrees yesterday. It still feels like a bit of a dream.

I’ve got two fancy pieces of paper now, and a fancy hat, and a feeling of pride that I made it through uni, let alone while my health crashed and burned around me, through multiple investigative surgeries and procedures, and so many diagnoses, in the midst of a global pandemic. I, and many of my friends, and my peers, we made it.

But the day took a huge toll on me. Wake up early to get ready. Ready includes the waist-high compression stockings I sometimes don’t have the strength to put on. Struggle with them for a solid while. A beautiful dress, with pockets!! Wear sensible shoes, with a low heel and additional arch support. Worry about tripping or fainting while walking the stage for a good long while. Instead, trip and fall on the way to registration, banging my knee onto carpet covered concrete. Ouch. Sit in the shade, with sunnies on, hoping I don’t develop a migraine while waiting for doors to open for us to be seated in the hall. Walk the stage without any issues, but lean heavily on the bannister as I cautiously take the steps off the stage. Let loose and allow myself a glass of champagne to celebrate after. Roll my ankle again, walking to a photo location after the ceremony. Start to feel exhausted, but know we still have dinner plans. Majorly enjoy dinner, almost forgetting that my stomach will hate me for it later. Still had to take my meds, still had to pay attention to most of my pain and migraine mitigation strategies on this day that’s so special, but cannot be just about me, because it is also about my managing my illnesses and how they are never going away.

So here I am at home, resting, nursing a twice sprained ankle, a sore knee, a gastro intestinal tract that can’t deal with the excitement and nerves and lovely celebration dinner, a flu-like feeling and thermoregulation issues and malaise (so a fatigue flare up basically). But it was worth it.

I did it. And I’m going to keep doing it at my own pace as long as I can. I’ve been accepted for an honours year (or 2- part time) and I hope to do more after that. Disabled and chronically ill people belong in academia. Our voices are important.