These incidents might sound silly to write a post about, but it means so much to me.
April – May are the months where students at a university would be making amends with all that they should have been studying throughout the year. These two months are crucial because that’s when a year’s worth of information is cramped into the system. Well, this is true in my case at least.
I had to submit my final year’s dissertation on the 27th of April and had an exam the following day. The week after that held three other exams for me, on consecutive days.
As I was returning home from my university’s building at 11 pm on the 24th of April (Friday) after an intense revision session, I felt my legs get tighter with every step. I got home and saw that my legs had developed some bright red lumps and it took me a while to take my jeans off.
I called my friend and told her about what was happening, (this was around 1 am now) and she suggested I called the doctor out-of-hours. The doctor told me to come down to the hospital within the hour. I was a bit hesitant knowing the amount of revision I had to do the next day and that I needed a good night’s rest to achieve what I had planned. I returned home at 5 am and then watched the sun rise while filling in a deferral form for my exams and dissertation as my condition got worse.
Each day, week after week, I grew fainter, my joints ached and I was forced to stay in bed, unable to do anything on my own. I felt useless. I could have been done with my finals, but there I was, in bed, in pain, in tears. I could feel my heart beat in my feet (if that’s even possible). I could feel nothing but pain and a strong realisation that I’ve let everyone down.
Three weeks later, I was picking up the pieces and fixing myself up only to learn that my Grandma had passed away. I still remember my deep-seated father who pretended like nothing had happened, just so that I wouldn’t fall back into the whorl of gloom. When I told him that I received messages from friends back in Bahrain consoling me, he still maintained his calm. That’s when I knew that my old man needed me, now more than ever. So, I decided to take the next flight from Birmingham to India (because that’s where my Grandma was).
On the 5th of June, knowing that I had developed an auto-immune disease called erythema nodosum, I was now returning back to Coventry with something heavier than my luggage. The disease explained the red lumps, joint pain, fever, headaches, and everything terrible.
Messy May had gone by and the month of June was taunting me. I had to start revising for my exams (again) and to complete my dissertation that I worked so hard on. I had to submit my year’s worth of research for my undergrad degree (a.k.a. ‘disso’ as commonly known by students), with a heavy heart and the fact that I could not complete it according to the standards I had set for myself.
It took me some time to recuperate from life’s unpleasant reality check. The next thing I remember was frantically multitasking revision for two exams that were on consecutive days (so convenient) with the touch-ups for my dissertation. I know, I know, I had loads of time on my hands, but the right frame of mind? Don’t think so.
At this point, I gave up, I cried, I lost hope, I looked up to the sky and surrendered my all, and this is when everything fell into its place. You see, this wonderful God I believe in, gave me a chance to fight own my battle with every cell in my body, but when my strength failed me, and when I asked for a tiny portion of His strength, He clothed me with garments of salvation (Isaiah 61.10) and met my needs according to His riches (Philippians 4.19).
9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. – 2 Corinthians 12:9-11 🙂