Student Bloggers

Being a reasonably healthy 20-year-old woman, I have recently come to realize that I take my health for granted. During my time abroad I have been able to move through countries effortlessly, lift my awkwardly weighty luggage, and run to Trinity's library before closing hours if need be. Busy days around the city and busy nights in my favorite pubs, I hardly had a conception of what it would be like to be suspended in the motion of studying abroad.

Tales of studying abroad often regale various adventures, plans, or surprises. After this last week, my tale has a significant addition. During my final week in Dublin, my body received a very special surprise...in my appendix. You often hear that during finals week at school, your body begins to shut down from stress and tries to send you a message to slow down. Perhaps appendicitis was my body attempting to think big in order to get me to rest. Yet, perhaps it was time I was brought back to earth from my study abroad orbit.

Were it not for my propensity for WebMD visits and my persistent self-diagnosing during the period in which my first symptoms arose, things could have been much worse. Now, I am not encouraging excessive use of WebMD, because that could result in a new affliction discovered daily. However, using resources regarding medical health, and ensuring they are accessible is important. If something feels out of sorts, it may very well be, and that may be time to take on your next adventure into the hospital.

Although appendicitis perhaps inhibited some other pursuits for my last week in Dublin, it certainly set me on a  unique journey within Dublin's St. Vincent's Hospital. Ireland's care system in terms of emergency rooms doesn't differ too much from America's, there is still a distinct cultural experience spending time in a hospital, in both good and bad ways. Some of the medical terms differed, and the bedside manner for me was personally more delightful given the accent. But no matter where I was, I was in a hospital for over 4 days, and that was a universal fact, the task of coping in one would be the same as it would be anywhere else.

If I could offer any advice for an extended stay in the hospital it would be: keep your spirits up. While being sick is often no laughing matter, that doesn't mean that you don't need a good giggle. Make jokes, smile, believe in that light at the end of the tunnel that is the outside world. This outlook will not only medicate you with your desperately needed dose of optimism, it should also earn a successful rapport with the nurses. Although they may not have said it out loud I could swear they referred to me as, "that funny American." And funny I would much rather be than a lot of things.

An unexpected facet of my time at St. Vincent's was the community between the patients. I was in a room with 4 other women, and although some were admitted and discharged before I could meet them, the ones that remained kept close in order to create a "home away from home." They shared their own stories unabashedly, ready to move beyond meeting someone to knowing them. There was one woman in particular who had high spirits and great stories.  The woman spoke often of how she met her husband: as she collided with him on an outrageously windy day. She said that were it not for the wind, she would never have met him, nor would have the happiness she has now. Windy days, for my hospital roommate, were a good omen.

The day I went to the hospital I could hear the wind howling outside. I could watch the silhouettes of the leaves dance by the windows. Maybe during my time at the hospital I wouldn't see my appendix inflaming as a good omen, however, now, I know that it brought a lot of health for my mind. The obvious perspectives I received during my stint in St. Vincent's would be the gratitude I should have for my health, how finite our time can be in moments, and especially how lucky I am to be surrounded by caring people in my life to support me. However, an unexpected layer of wisdom handed to me along with some stitches was on the matter of my time abroad.

While abroad, I certainly didn't accomplish everything I set out to do. I didn't cross off every bucket-list item I could at every moment. However, I was happy. I did things that made me happy, and I learned. My hospital bed allowed me to distance myself from my experiences. Rather than visiting every last place I loved in Dublin to say "good bye," I was able to reflect on the times I loved and say "thank you." To me, this is much healthier and less stressful. Leaving Dublin certainly will be an open wound. But much like the skin that will cover my incisions with the presence of a small scar, so will the memories of my time abroad quietly form. Neither of these scars negative, rather a mark of a deep experience that I am all the better for.