What Doesn't Kill You...

Ten days from lift-off finds me on my couch, literally gasping for air like a grounded fish, cursing my own stupidity, and racking my brain for where I had left my passport.  What (you might ask) could have possibly left me in such a predicament?  Well, apparently, double pneumonia and panic attacks don't go well together.

I imagined that at this point I would have nothing left to worry about except making sure that I had packed everything I needed, washing all the clothes that I'm taking with me, and boxing up everything I'm leaving behind.  Instead, two weeks of bronchitis culminated in a stabbing pain in my ribs on Friday evening, which escalated overnight until I was sure by Saturday morning that I had broken a rib from coughing.  A quick examination by the doctor at the walk-in clinic got me an immediate referral to the emergency room where (four hours later) I was diagnosed with double pneumonia and pleurisy.  The pleurisy is caused by inflammation and fluid in the lining of the lung, causing it to scrape and slide against my chest wall- hence the pain.  So I'm supposed to take it easy and not move or exert myself for the next ten days.  I'll be on a plane ten days from now, so I'm hoping that's a conservative estimate.

Additionally, I received my rejected visa application in the mail today because I forgot to include my original passport.  That brought on the panic attack, which was compounded by the fact that I couldn't FIND my passport (it was still in a briefcase in my car from when I had my fingerprints taken in Austin last week).  I've shipped it by overnight airmail and (fingers crossed) I'll have my visa and my passport safe and ready to go next Tuesday.  I'm trying very hard not to think of the alternative.  Instead, I'm going to thank my mother for her foresight in suggesting flight insurance, and to remind myself that I still have two weeks leeway from my departure date to the date that school actually starts.

I'm sure that someday these will all just be bumps in the road that I can laugh and reminisce about, but until then, if you're reading this, keep your fingers crossed and send a little luck my way.  I'll be here nursing my broken chest.  I used to be a fan of the phrase, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  Now it just serves as a reminder that this just might kill me after all.