During the winter quarter of my fourth year of college, I woke up one morning in a pain that never went away. My weekly shadowing hours in the emergency department quickly shifted into hours spent at a myriad of doctors’ appointments of my own. The time I had carefully carved out for classes and MCAT studying was suddenly replaced with mandatory afternoon naps, the best ones being those where my dog Dozer joined me.

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Growing up with epilepsy, I knew the unsettling feeling of my body being out of my control. But experiencing that loss as an adult after years of building momentum toward my goals, felt entirely different. It felt like everything I had worked for was slowly slipping through my fingers. I barely made it through winter quarter, even skipping the final exam for my organic chemistry class which was extremely not Nia-like and telling of my declining heath. But I held onto hope for the spring and enrolled in a full course load. 

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Armed with my new acrylic blue cane, I started spring quarter with a bang that quickly dissolved into a sputter. My legs were too heavy to stand through organic chemistry labs, and my fingers were too painful to complete my problem sets. It wasn’t until my exam scores plummeted from above average to the lowest in the class that I finally allowed myself to acknowledge that I needed to make a change. I’ve always taken pride in proving to myself that I can do hard things by pushing through challenging times. But my health challenges taught me that strength isn’t only found in persistence, but also in intentionally taking a break or choosing a different path. Recognizing this, I made the difficult decision to drop down to part-time student status during spring quarter of my fourth year. ​​

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The end of my spring quarter and the following summer became a period of trial and error, where I tried to find new activities that provided me with a sense of fulfillment and joy while also accommodating my physical limitations. Crafting, doing puzzle and Lego set brough a smile to my face while also gently pushing me to learn how to listen to my body and take breaks when I needed them.

 

As my health slowly improved and I was able to leave the house more, I learned to embrace accommodations and enjoyed moments of fun enabled by my colorful cane and wheelchair. Looking back at this time, and particularly the photos from it, I can clearly see all of the exhaustion and pain but also see the moments of joy. I am extremely grateful for the sacrifices that my family made and the steady support they offered so I could experience these beautiful moments. Now that my health has stabilized for the moment, I’m cautiously optimistic about what the future holds. On both the good days and the challenging ones, I am grateful for the opportunity to experience the little joys in life.

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