A Followed Dream
At a time when my life was on the right track, I faced the chance of losing everything: my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations. An aspiring journalist, I was ready to enter my second year of college only to find that someone wanted to take it away.
I still recall those words. "You'll never have to worry about paying for anything," said those at the state organization.
That fall had been especially harsh. A hurricane swept across campus, taking down trees and my dreams along with it. Throughout the year, the state had pushed the idea of trying me without someone to carry my books. The mere thought of it filled me with dread. How would I function? What if I fall? How would I make it?
It was a necessity that I have an aide to carry my books around campus. My weakness and lack of speed made it impossible for me to function without one. "She needs to become more independent," they said. But the fact was that I needed the aide, not only to carry my books but to help me get set up in class. Carrying the books myself would only slow me down. I had epilepsy, no use of my left hand, vision impairments, and panic attacks. I often slammed up against open doors, because I didn't have full range of vision on the left side. And I wore an orthopedic device on my leg.
I had to fight for the aide, and eventually won the battle. My course load was heavy, and I had to drop two classes. The state cut funding, and I was forced to use whatever change I had to pay for books and fees.
The aide helped by carrying my books. But that winter, she quit. She gave me a day's notice that she was leaving. Fearful, I looked at her. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You could have given me some notice," I said.
For a month, I was forced to take it on my own. Carrying a backpack of at least thirty pounds, I panted profusely. I'd walk a few feet, suddenly throwing my bag to the ground. I tried everything; getting a backpack on wheels, putting only the books I needed in my bag. But nothing worked. In the end, I wound up weak and frustrated.
My shoelaces untied constantly. Instructors scowled at me as I tried to unload my bag, or find the right page ten minutes after class began. The metal bar I used to pull my backpack fell to the floor. As I struggled to pull it back to an upright position, my notebook fell to the floor. There were a few sympathetic students who noticed that I was having difficulty. But no one truly understood how hard this was for me.
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