Stop Staring At Me And Answer My Questions!

So for the first time since I was 16, I was jobless.  I have to be honest with you, I don't like being jobless.  I was still in school at this point, so I was putting a lot of focus into that, but summer was quickly approaching and I had tuition to pay for the next year of school, along with rent for my new apartment, so I was starting to panic a little.  I decided to look on Joblink, an awesome site my University has that posts jobs.  I found a job that the University itself had posted for a web developer, developing in C#, a language that I was somewhat familiar in.  I figured it couldn't hurt to try.  I also applied at a job that my friend Ian worked at, because it would be awesome working with him.  To my surprise, I got an interview at both of them!  I hadn't had an interview for a long, long time, so I was terrified.  The interview for the job at Ian's place was a lot of fun, I mostly just talked to them.  They all seemed to really like me and they were all really nice people.    The only problem was I would have to be moving a lot of heavy equipment and with my shoulder that would obviously be a problem.  I had high hopes for it however.

The University interview was scary but awesome.  They had a test for me to take, and then they talked to me after.  The people there were so nice, and I remember thinking that I would give anything to get that job, though I really didn't think I did that well.  I didn't sleep much that night because I kept thinking about what I could have done better.  To my surprise, I got an email back saying that I didn't get chosen for that position, but I did look like a good fit for another position, a User Interface position, and they wanted me to come in and interview for that!  This was awesome for me, because I was really wanting to get into the Human Computer Interaction concentration in school, so it was more aligned to what I wanted to do in my future.  I was ecstatic!  I came in and interviewed, and my excitement towards the topic took over my nervousness this time.  I think I did pretty well!

I ended up getting offers for both jobs!  I was really surprised and excited, especially because this was the first time I'd tried getting a job in the Computer Science field!  I took the University job, not only because it had to do with UI and programming, but also because it was at the University, somewhere that has been one of the most amazing places in my life for almost the entirety of my life.  So far it has educated me, now it has employed me, and in the future it will also be a huge factor in helping my health.  But we'll get to that later.

So I started working at the University.  I met my coworkers, some of the most amazing and understanding people in the world, and got my desk (yeah, I have a desk!!), and got all settled in.  I told my bosses about my health stuff, and they were very accepting of it.  My job there was completely the opposite from the lifeguarding job in that no one would make me feel bad for things I couldn't control.  It was amazing!

The summer went by extremely quickly that year.  I focused on working at my new job and getting settled into our new apartment.  The one thing that happened that was interesting was I got a call that there was a donor available.  I said I couldn't take it because I had just gotten a new job and was on contract for the summer, and was no where near in a good position to get it.  In hindsight, I really should have gotten it.  But hindsight is 20/20.  They said that was fine and that donor was deferred.  The summer came just about to a close, and the fateful August 2010 rolled around.

Josh and I decided to go to the mall in about the second week of this month.  We were planning a trip to Mexico for the first week of September, so we had a couple things to get.  We were walking through the mall, when all of a sudden I felt a ridiculous pain in my right hip.  It was so bad that my entire body got covered with a layer of sweat.  It surprised me, so I took the weight off it and it went away.  Sometimes with my bone disease my joints will do weird things, so I sort of took a deep breath and kept going, because Josh didn't notice anything was wrong.  I took another step, and it happened again.  This time I squeezed his hand and took a deeper breath, so he stopped and looked at me and asked if I was okay with alarm in his voice.  Apparently I had gone white.  I said I was okay, because I seriously thought it was just my hip being weird.  He asked if he should bring the car around and I said no, I could walk.  I wanted to go in Bath & Body Works, so we went in.  About every 10 steps it happened again.  It got so bad that I decided we needed to go back to the car.  It took us about half an hour.  It was terrible.  When we got home I had to go straight to bed because it was so exhausting dealing with it.  It was a little scary, but I've had things like this kind of happen before and I thought I could probably just sleep it off.  Just a day in the life of Kelli in my eyes.  Josh was terrified because I normally didn't let him see things like this.  The most he'd seen was my shoulder surgery from before, so he was used to shoulder injuries.

When I woke up I thought it was better, so I went to work.  I drove there and walked to the office.  By the time I got to the office it was so sore it was ridiculous, so I rested it.  Dad came for lunch and we walked to Mac Hall, then back.  We had to go slow as heck, but I insisted I was fine.  After Dad left I got through about a half hour of work until I decided I was most definitely not fine, so I started trying to walk back to my car.  I made it only about half way before I laid down on the lawn and called Josh to come pick me up.  I wasn't as much scared as I was angry; I don't like things getting in my way of work or life, especially my health, and this was starting to look like it was going to.  Josh came and got me, but he had to work that night so I had to leave the Opaz there.  I wasn't happy about that (they're very strict about their towing here), but we worked it out and everyone started bugging me to call my rheumetologist.  Eventually I did, with a sort of embarrassed "something is wrong and I have no idea what" message.  Then I had to email my boss and tell him I wasn't going to be able to work for a few days.  I wasn't happy.

For the next couple of weeks, I was more or less stuck at home.  A couple of great things happened: 1) I got to be able to work from home, which was fantastic!, 2) I got a cane, so I could move around a little better, and 3) I got engaged to Josh.  It was really quick for the relationship, admittedly.  Oh well.

My rheumetologist got back to me in that time as well, and she got me to call my adult orthopaedic surgeon.  They had no idea what was going on with me, but they thought he would be able to help because it was obviously a "hardware problem" (as opposed to a software problem, apparently!), so I gave his office a call.  The call went like this.  "Hi, this is Kelli, I'm a patient of the doctor.  I can't walk.  You need to see me."  "Why can't you walk?" "...Seriously? This is why I'm calling? My hip hurts, I don't know why." "*sigh* Alright, how's three months from now.  He's really busy." "Not good, how's 10 minutes from now."  Eventually I managed to get in to see him right before we left for Mexico, literally two days before.  Dad came with me.

We rolled in (I was in a wheelchair at this point, courtesy of Josh's grandpa) and I got some X-Rays, then jumped up on one of the beds and waited to see the doctor.  I don't remember if Dad had met him before, but this guy, like all my other awesome doctors, is one of the best in Calgary.  He is extremely intellectual however, so you need to just let him think.  Dad didn't know this though.  So for me this appointment was kind of amusing.  The doctor came in and I told him what happened and my symptoms, and then he looked at my x-rays and just stared.  And then he didn't say a word.  Then he looked at me and stared.  Dad tried to ask a question, so he turned to Dad and stared.  I tried so hard to not giggle.  Then he turned around and got another doctor, brought him back, showed him the x-ray, said something, and then stared at him.  And the guy stared back.  Dad was getting angry at this point and I was trying extremely hard to not laugh.  It was just too much.  Then he said that I needed to get a bone density test and an MRI, and that he was going to actually refer me to this other orthopaedic surgeon, because he was pretty sure he knew what it was, but he was actually better to work on it.  After this was dealt with, I could choose between who I wanted as a surgeon, him or the other guy.  This surprised me; I really like this guy as a doctor, and I didn't think I was going to need more tests, I kind of thought it would be a "oh, you just need a shot of this magic medicine and you'll be fine!" because that's how life works for me.  But okay.  At least I didn't have to laugh now.  He also put a rush on it.  Gotta love it when a doctor puts rush on tests for you.

So it looked like after my vacation I was going to have some fun tests!  But I also had school coming up... or so I hoped.

Dislocating Your Shoulder Is Not Part Of Front Crawl, So Leave That Out

The recovery for my shoulder went pretty well.  It was incredibly sore, and the painkillers they gave were not enough by any stretch of the imagination, though we didn't know why.  For some reason my elbow and wrist was flaring in pain as well as my shoulder, which didn't seem right, but I didn't want to complain much.

I was able to sleep a lot with the sling on, and it was actually quite comfortable.  I sort of balanced on my left and right sides with the sling leaning against the bed holding me in place.  It was cozy as heck.  Josh was really great in helping us out, when he wasn't working he was at our house.  I couldn't shower for a little while, and since you can't sponge bath hair, we put a garbage bag over my shoulders and he washed my hair in the sink.

It was very difficult for me to start taking my arm out of the sling.  They had told me to once and a while take it out and move it around a bit, but every time I did it, I was positive I was going to hear the sound of glass shattering and the Super Mario "Game Over" noise would play.  Eventually I managed to get it out of the sling though and move it a little, and was quite proud of myself.  So proud of myself that I decided my surgeon was probably wrong and nothing happened during my surgery, and everything went right so I didn't have to worry about anything!

So the day came that we had to go back to the surgeon and see him to find out how it went.  We loaded up in the car, went to the bar, had some shots, then went to the surgeons office (just kidding, we went straight to the office, it was 8 in the morning and we aren't alcoholics probably).  He did all the checks and stuff, showed us the pictures, which were disgustingly awesome, and then told us what went wrong.  Once they dug out all the dead bone in my shoulder, there was a divot left that was big enough and in such a position that when I lifted my arm in such a way, the ball of the joint would slide down and kind of dislocate.  Fantastic.  So there were a few options from here.  First, I could take this magic pill that would cure everything!  Oh no, wait, that was me dreaming, that didn't happen.  First, we could put a metal cap on the joint that would cover it.  That would work, but it would wear out the bone and cartilage and would need to be replaced after a little while.  The second option is new technology, coming straight from the University of Calgary.  It would be bone and cartilage from a live donor, which would mean from a person who had just passed away.  They would take it from them, machine it to fit my hole perfectly, and attach it through dowels.  The only catch with that is that I would have to wait for the donor to come.  My surgeon hadn't done that surgery before because it was extremely new, but he was very excited about me doing it, and was quite adamant about me taking that option.  After exchanging looks, we all decided that that would probably be the best option.  He told me that once I finished physio I'd be going on the list for donors.

Shortly after I began physio.  Though there was nothing wrong with the physiotherapist, this was terrible for me.  It's extremely difficult to explain the nature of my dislocations to someone who doesn't understand and who assumes it's like normal dislocations, so most of the exercises ended up making it dislocate.  I hated it!

Physio wasn't the only thing that caused it to dislocate.  As I finished up my recovery and began to get back to regular life, I found myself dislocating my shoulder more and more.  I could get it back in relatively easy, just by relaxing and shrugging (luckily I was quite accustomed to relaxing through pain from my history), so it wasn't a problem, but it hurt quite a bit.  I began to get used to it however.  It did begin to get problematic, unfortunately.

I went back to work, teaching lessons only because I didn't feel comfortable lifeguarding when my shoulder have a chance to dislocate during a save.  We decided to stick to relatively low level classes so I could stay in the shallow water or hold the kids while swimming with just my legs, so I wouldn't have to worry about my arms.  My first day teaching my first set of lessons, I had a private lesson, a little girl who was terrified of water.  I love lessons like this because I usually have them super comfortable by the first day, and then we can spend the next seven classes playing.  I walked around with her on my back until she could touch by standing on her toes, and then got her to hang on the wall (she was already doing quite well).  I reached back to grab a noodle, which was a normal motion for me, and my shoulder dislocated.  Still not used to the pain, I pulled a face.  Unfortunately, she saw the face, immediately got more terrified, and scrambled out of the water, crying as hard as she could.  I felt terrible.  Once the lessons were done, I went into my boss's office and quit.  There was lots of tears, but I didn't see another way.  After six years, I was no longer employed as a lifeguard, shift leader, or swim instructor.

As always, given a choice, I wouldn't have changed anything in regards to getting this surgery, nor do I think my surgeon would have changed anything in regards to how he would have performed the surgery.  This was just the first of a series of disappointments that my shoulder has given me.  However, my shoulder has also brought some happy points as well.

Surgery Went Well... And I Got Pictures!

A few weeks before the surgery, I was laying in bed after hitting snooze on my alarm clock and I went to pull my left arm from being under my pillow to at my side.  In the process, I heard a very loud crack and my shoulder started hurting extremely bad.  I eventually worked my arm down to be at my side and ran downstairs to tell my dad.  We called the surgeon, who booked us in for an appointment at 1pm.  I decided to try and nap while I waited (one thing I've learned through all this is to get all the sleep I possibly can) and laid down on the couch.  I dozed for a while, and I noticed that the more comfortable I was, the less my shoulder hurt and the more I could move it.  Finally, it was almost back to normal, except for some residual pain.  I decided to go to the doctor anyway to see what happened.

When we got there, I got an x-ray done again and we found that there was a chunk of bone that had lifted up from the head of the joint and was catching, like a tab.  He said more than likely it was going to catch a lot, but once I get the surgery he'd smooth it out and it would be fine.  He also said there were some chunks that were floating around and were getting caught.  The reason it worked itself out after I napped was that I relaxed and it was able to work itself out when the muscles calmed down.  Dad and I were satisfied with the response, thanked him for seeing me so quickly (it was really nice of him), and went on our way.  Between that day and the surgery, that happened quite a few more times, but I was able to relax enough to unlock it myself and didn't need to go back to the surgeon.

The day of the surgery I got very little sleep.  This was the first surgery I had in an adult hospital, and I wasn't going to be able to stay overnight, so I was terrified.  We had to get up very early to check in (we got there for 6:30am or something) and get my day surgery bed, so by the time we left I'd only slept a couple of hours.  In the morning, Mom, Dad, and I rolled into the Peter Laugheed hospital and went to the check-in area.  I remember we sat there and giggled about random things until we got called, which we usually do when we're nervous.  Finally I got checked in and got to go upstairs to the waiting bed.  I could only have one visitor at a time, which was stupid because the waiting period of the surgery could be forever, and no one wants to be healthy sitting in a hospital bed with one visitor standing awkwardly over you (we didn't have a chair for a while).  Kyle and Josh got there pretty soon into my day, and they all rotated in seeing me, making it extremely hard for me to play pokemon on my DS. Not that I'm complaining.

I ended up laying in the bed waiting for surgery until 3:30pm.  I guess he was late with another surgery.  I actually ended up having a nap during my wait, which was nice.  When it was finally time to go in, they took my glasses and wheeled me into the other waiting area (I got to stay in my bed the entire time, woot) where I got to wait for another half hour or more.  This part had the added bonus of me only seeing blur for the whole time, causing me to sit there and stare into space (or at someone, with no glasses I couldn't tell the difference).  Finally, my shoulder surgery came over and chatted with me a little, telling me how nice of a surgery it was going to be, and asking how my day is going and such.  The he signed my shoulder (to make sure he didn't cut open the wrong one) and left me alone again.  Then the anesthesiologist came by and asked me if I have anything he should know about, like a removable face or something like that, and then left again.  Finally it was time!

You always get a nurse that's the one who takes care of you during the surgery, and calms your nerves and stuff.  The nurse let me walk from this point, which was nice.  I got to the operation room, which was cold as heck!  I asked the nurse why it was so cold and she asked if I would prefer the surgeon sweating on me, which was a good point.  She introduced me to the other nurse in there, and we all joked around for a bit before I got in the chair.  Then I sat down on the "table" which was a chair about four centimeters wide (or six inches... close enough) and started getting strapped in.  The blood pressure cuff went on, and I started getting the anesthetic drugs put through the IV.  And then I was out!

Once again, if you're squeemish, don't read this part.  They made two small incisions, one on the front of my left shoulder, and one on the back.  They stuck a camera and a vacuum and a drill like thing in, and then got rid of all the bone that was floating around.  Then they smoothed out the joint and sewed me up by putting a stitch inside the incision, leaving no thread on the outside.

When I woke up, I was in a sitting position on the bed with a massive sling around my neck and my left arm strapped tightly in.  To be honest, it scared the crap out of me.  I didn't expect it to be that big!  But I guess I should have expected that from the Slingmaster 2000.  There was a nurse beside me, and I asked her if it was okay if I had a nap.  She chuckled and said of course and continued on her work.  Then my shoulder surgeon walked up.  I could barely see him because I didn't have my glasses on, but I recognized his hilarious doo-rag. He asked me how I was feeling, and then said those dreaded words: "It didn't go well."  He wouldn't tell me why exactly, and just said to focus on recovery.  Then he went running off.

They rolled me back to the day surgery area.  I remember hearing "oh, there she is" and seeing Kyle leaning against the wall waving at me as I rolled by.  Then they all crowded around me in the tiny room (which was very against the rules, those rebels) and chatted a bit until I got tired and wanted a nap.  When I woke up, people were usually there, which was really nice.  Then I got to go home!  Getting ready to leave is one of the worst parts.  If you disagree, try putting on a tight tank top with a completely immobile arm that's strapped to your side.  It's not fun!  The car ride is difficult too.  Mom, Dad, Josh and I got in the Jeep, with me and Josh in the back.  I was quiet most of the way home with a blanket cuddled around me, until I started feeling very sick.  We got to the street that my house was on before I told them I needed to throw up when we got home (I was very good at controlling my stomach at that point), and Dad started pulling over until I was like 'no, at home!'  So we got home and I hustled in.... and immediately felt better. At least I got in the house in record time.

We were all a little down about the surgery not going well (even though we didn't know why at that point), but we were pleased that I had gotten through it with my left arm still attached.  It was time to start the process of healing... again.

I'm A Little Worried About Your Guarding, Because I Don't Think You're Smart Enough To Close Your Mouth When You Jump In

I went into my second semester of that year in a really good place.  I was now dating a really great guy, Josh, and my classes were extremely interesting.  I'd also made a friend in three of my classes, Ian, and had my other good friend, Mike, in another.  I had my surgery planned for reading week, and was hoping it would turn out well.

Josh and I progressed in our relationship extremely quickly.  I was shocked at how easy it was to talk about my health problems with him, because he really seemed to understand and sympathize with me.  We almost immediately began seeing each other daily, and told each other we loved each other in only two weeks.  Leading up to February, we even started talking about moving in together.  He'd lived in Vancouver previously, and so he was ready to leave his parents house again.  I'd never lived without my parents, and I knew that it was way too soon, but everything seemed right, so it was looking like a good idea.

One day I had to get an MRI on my shoulder, the MRI that would show my orthopedic surgeon exactly what he was going to have to deal with when he went in there.  Dad drove me to the hospital and went in to wait with me.  This MRI was a lot different; I needed to have dye in the joint so he could see exactly what was going to show up.  So we went it, and I changed into the hospital clothes and answers the zillions of questions to the MRI technician guy.  Then I went into the room where they were to insert the dye.  I really had no idea what was going to happen here, and am happy I didn't, because otherwise I'd have freaked out beforehand.  I laid down on the table, and the put a bunch of sterilizer over my left shoulder.  The doctor who got to deal with inserting the dye came in.  He was a pretty nice guy, very funny, which is always nice.  They put the freezing into my shoulder first, which involved a massive needle going into my shoulder, and local anesthetic being put in.  If you've ever gotten a needle put in your arm, it was kind of like that, but the needle was about a foot long and you couldn't look anywhere without seeing it.  After that, we started up the xray machine that would show him where the needle was the entire time.  I decided to stare at the room and chat with the man, so I only got to see tools when the guy lifted them high up (which did happen a couple of times).  I did get to see a few images of my shoulder with a giant needle going into the joint, which I considered making my Christmas card, but other than that it just looked like there was a huge hole in my shoulder that he was shoving needles in and out of, like a bunch of straws into a really thin glass.  My shoulder got filled up with dye, and it really did hurt.  Keep in mind, I still had raw bone in this shoulder, and there was needles bumping against it and foreign liquid caressing it.  Anyway, once that was over, we had to wait a little while, and then got the MRI.  On the way home, I told Dad that Josh and I were thinking of moving out, expecting a bit of anger.  Dad told me I just needed to think things through, and that he wouldn't be mad at me and loved me no matter what.  Best dad ever.

The MRI ended up showing a little tab on my bone, which could get caught and lock ever so often, and also a big bit of bone hovering around the joint, which would cause pain and a fun clicking noise.  The last thing I asked the doctor in the appointment before the surgery was "Can you give me the pictures from inside the joint?"

School was going great at this time!  I had told my teachers that I would be away for a little while, and they all really understood and were willing to help in any way I needed.  Ian and Mike both were very willing to help me with anything I missed or didn't understand while I was gone, which was really nice of them.  They're both VERY good people.

Work wasn't going so well at this time.  I was a Shift Leader at this time, and another Shift Leader decided to start telling everyone that because of my health problems, I couldn't save anyone and was unreliable.  This was a ridiculous statement; I've always been very careful about how much I can do, and if for some reason my health was bad enough to make saving someone difficult, I would ask someone to cover for me.  However, word got around and I looked like an unreliable idiot.  I ended up pulling the Shift Leader into the First Aid room and told him there was obviously some problem, and that if he felt that he should confirm it with me instead of telling everyone else about it.  I asked what he was concerned about and shot all the issues down.  However, he enjoyed being a massive drama queen and continued to spread the lie.  This got me very upset, as I really liked working there.  I was a good lifeguard, and it hurt me to think that people thought otherwise.  Since then, I've vowed to not work in a place that was primarily women and catty men, as it seems to cause problems, and I'm an easy target.  Being a computer scientist, this is going to be a pretty easy vow to keep, kind of like vowing to breathe.  The place I work in now is amazing, full of supportive and fun people (all men!) and I don't really ever want to leave.  Anyway, I digress.  I had my leave time planned with my boss for when I was going to get surgery.  I wanted to be back pretty soon, as soon as I could, because I did like it, and I needed the money.  Everything was working out quite well.

I went into the start of reading week feeling very confident that things would turn out like they should.  I felt like I'd have enough bad luck, and it was about time things went my way.

I'm Sorry, I'm Busy Being A Vampire

I'm going to quickly switch back to my education, specifically in the start of the second year of engineering.  I had tried to get into Mechanical Engineering (to make cars), Civil Engineering (to make buildings), or Train Engineering (because trains are important too guys).  I didn't get into them.  Instead, I got into Software Engineering.  At the time, I was pretty upset by it.  Even though it was high on my list of concentrations to go in, I had spent the first few years of my life wanting to make cars or buildings.  However, once I got going on Software Engineering in my second year, I found I actually really liked it.  Software Engineering got to take classes with people in Computer and Electrical Engineering, so I was in classes with Mike, another one of my good friends, and another guy who I hung out with sometimes.  There were a couple of classes that I had to take because of Engineering that I really didn't want to, such as Differential Equations.  Seriously, what software engineer ever has to know differential equations?  Since that class, I've never even had to use math.

It was around this time that my boyfriend of the time started being kinda mean to engineers.  He kept saying that everyone was in it solely to get the iron ring at the end, and you could do any engineer's job with any different degree (ie. Chem degree instead of a chemical engineer, architect instead of a civil engineer, etc.) This is pretty wrong, otherwise they wouldn't have an engineering degree.  However, with software engineering, there is an equivalent degree in computer science.  He was taking an equivalent class to what I was taking at one point, and he was learning a lot more theory and things that I actually wanted to know compared to what I was learning.  I decided to look into it, and I found that there were a lot more classes in computer science that were applicable to software engineering, such as computability.  I started asking a bunch of professors in both engineering's software engineering and computer science's software engineering.  Basically, the best response I got from the head of engg's software engineering as a reason to not switch is "but you won't get your ring."  I was annoyed, and so I switched.  Best decision I ever made, and one of the best things that came out of that relationship.  After I did that, my interest went higher and higher, and my grades went up accordingly.

In my second year, I found out I had to get my wisdom teeth out.  It seemed like a good time, since I was having a lull in health issues, so we agreed.  I got my teeth x-ray sent to this guy by market mall (he was crazy as a bat) and we went to see him.  We told him all about my health problems, and he was all like 'oh yeah, no problem, this will go fine, I'm crazy' and stuff, so we felt good about it.  We scheduled it for reading week of my second year, and I was all ready to go.  Two days before reading week, I got a phone call.  It was the nurse in the guy's office, telling me that I needed to go for an appointment with the anesthetic guy before my surgery.  This was Thursday, and my surgery date was on Monday, so I was like 'well, can I get into an appointment tomorrow?' and she said 'no.'  This got me so mad.  I said it was ridiculous, that was the only time I could go get it because I had to work over the summer, so I couldn't get it for another year, and this was stupid.  She's was like 'whatevs, sorry, bye' and that was it.  I called my parents in a rage.  Then I called the guy's office back and told them it was extremely unprofessional, if they wanted me to go for an appointment with the guy they should have called ages ago after I had the appointment with the surgeon, and they were obviously just frightened of my health problems and so didn't want to do it.  I told them again they were unprofessional and asked them to send my xrays back to my dentist, because I would never let this surgeon touch me, and I planned on telling not only my dentist but everyone I know about this stupid situation.  It was so stupid.  So then I found this other place in the south of the city I live in (I'm in the north) who wouldn't even need to see me before the surgery, I just had to tell them about my health problems on the site and they would know.  It was great, I had a date booked for right after school (because I could actually do it then).  I went to an appointment with my rheumatologist and told her about it.  She told me I couldn't get it.  I asked why.  She said that if I get oral surgery while on the infusions, I could get the bone disease in my jaw.  I was super upset, so she called the surgeon for me and told him.  He then told her that he was planning on giving me a steroid after, a steroid called Decadron, the one that gave me the bone disease in the first place!  She basically said 'like hell, stay away from her!' and my appointment was cancelled.

Around this same time, I stopped getting my infusions.  My rheumatologist looked at my bone density tests and MRI's and decided that the bone disease had stopped killing more bone, and some maybe even grew back a little bit!  But we were at a point where it wouldn't help anymore, so there was no reason to get it anymore.  At that time, I was no longer getting kidney stones quite so much, so that was awesome!  I was quite happy to not have to get two blood tests and an IV every month, so that was great.

In 2009, I went back to my rheumatologist, and I got an MRI of my shoulders, just to check up on things.  It still hurt in that weird, pinchy way, but I wasn't concerned because it'd been doing it for a year and I was kind of used to it by now.  However, when I went into her office and we looked at my MRI results, she started reading it and said "oh no.  This isn't good.  This isn't good at all."  It turned out that the feeling of pinching in my shoulder was actually the feeling of a collapsed joint.  The dead bone and some cartilage around it had burst apart, leaving a super raw point in my shoulder exposed.  I needed to get it fixed.  I was pretty upset by this, because I had had a good run of a few years with no health problems.  I got a referral to a shoulder surgeon, and a "that sucks, sorry!" in the nicest way possible (she really is a great rheumatologist).  I got in my car in the parkade and called my parents, and then my boyfriend, bawling my eyes out.  I remember a car waiting behind me in the parkade, and I didn't notice for a while, so he just patiently waited for me to leave.  After a few minutes, I shut my car off because I wasn't going to drive while on the phone and crying like an idiot (that seems a little distracted driving-y), and he got all mad and drove off angrily.  I was very upset.

Shortly after this, in the summer between my third and fourth year, my boyfriend broke up with me.  I'm very ashamed that I'm not the one who terminated the relationship, but oh well.  He told me that for the entire past year, he didn't love me, he was just sticking around because he didn't want to hurt me.  I was really upset.  I had just spent a month helping him get through a cold or something, and then pneumonia because he didn't go to the doctor when it got really bad, and he didn't even care.  Another reason he broke up with me was that, and I quote, 'how can I know that you're a good girlfriend if I've never had another girlfriend? I need to date someone else to know if you're actually good or not.'  So yeah.  A very long story short, this chapter of my life is closed.  For now.  I've learned that things in life are never quite what they seem, and this entire relationship is one of those situations.  But once again, more on that later.

A few months after this, I ended up meeting a guy at work at Cardel and we started dating.

Don't Play Human Foosball Unless You Don't Mind A Soccer Ball In The Face

I'm going to skip ahead in the story to the start of University.  This isn't because nothing happened, just that nothing massive happened that pertains to the story, so there's no need to tell you guys about it.  From this point, the story will be on fast forward a bit because of the lull in my health problems.  I'll get through this part as quickly as possible so I can get back to the fun stuff!

Halfway through the summer was an engineering open house.  It solidified in my mind that I was doing the right thing for school.  Partway through the day we played human Foosball, which is where a bunch of people hold onto long poles and face the same way as the people on the Foosball table.  Then they throw a soccer ball in the middle of it.  They put me in the very middle, and I was looking down at the ball right when someone kicked it up and into my nose.  It bled for two hours.  It was hilarious.

The first day of University was called UofC 101.  The basic idea of it is that you run around the uni going to all these fake classes practising for the real thing.  I was put in a group with this girl that I'd met a few weeks before at an engineering open house thing.  I spent some time too with some friends from my lifeguarding job.  It was weird for me because I was almost the oldest, a full year older than everyone else in my year.

When I got home from the first day of UofC 101, I got a phone call from my boyfriend at the time.  Things happened a while ago that I couldn't remember (my psychologist has told me I was experiencing dissociation at the time) and we broke up.  It was difficult for me because I couldn't remember doing it, so I had to just accept the fact that it had happened and was my fault.  I never tried to pass the blame off, because I hate when people do that.  Our relationship ended at the point of one year and eight months, and my family and I were alone again suddenly in the health problems.  I still had my headache.  I decided to not go to the rest of UofC 101.

After a few days I was pretty ready to get over the whole ordeal and move on with my life.  If there's anything health problems have taught me, it's how to deal with things and put them behind me.  The guy was still calling and asking me questions about what had happened, which bothered me because I didn't know any of the answers.  I wanted him to stop so I could move on and focus on school.

School was awesome!  I'd waited since grade 8 to be in University, and it didn't disappoint me.  I had six classes, which is a very heavy course load.  One thing I want to stress about this: it wasn't necessarily hard, it was just a lot of work.  The people who drop out probably aren't dropping out because they don't understand the material, they're dropping because they haven't or didn't want to keep up with the course load.  The first year, I did pretty good with sticking to it.  I had to get my infusions still, once a month, and I had to fit it around my classes, which got a little difficult.  I was at a good point with the pain though, and so luckily that didn't get in the way too much.

I had a few friends in this time.  I found out that Mike, the guy from Chinook (my 27 year old friend) was in engineering too so we hung out every so often.  I got a few friends in my block in engg, one girl and a bunch of guy friends (I've always got along way better with guys).  I found that I didn't really like how some of the people in engg acted towards engineering.  Some were being very competitive about it, which is ridiculous; you're not going to make it out being the only engineer, so you may as well try to take as many of your friends with you.  The friends I made were people who where all for helping each other, which was great.  One major thing that happened to me in this year was I started playing World of Warcraft.  From now on, I'll refer to this game as WoW.

At the end of the first year, I was hanging out with one guy a lot in particular, because he was pretty down to earth compared to a lot of other people in my block.  He introduced me to one of his friends, and the friend and I really clicked.  He was in number theory or something.  We started dating at the end of the first year of university, on May 7, 2007.

About in the middle of his and my relationship, my left shoulder started hurting.  It felt like I was getting pinched in the shoulder joint, and would sting.  I noticed it most while I was lifeguarding, but thought nothing of it other than a pulled muscle.  I went to the doctor for it, who said we could do an MRI, and I denied.  In my opinion there was enough wrong with me.

Well You Shouldn't Have Become A Teacher, But Unfortunately You Are

My year of Chinook had a couple of significant occurrences.  One thing that is really important is that I turned 18.  I was dating the same guy, so he was 19 at that point.  He was a huge drinker, and so I ended up going out with him and drinking every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.  I was a lightweight, and was making a buttload of cash, so I could easily afford it.  Our main stomping grounds was the old Cowboys.  It's gone now (which makes me feel ridiculously old) after closing, reopening, and then closing again, so if you ever decide to take a tour of Kelli's life in Calgary, you'll have to skip that part.  I liked the ability to dress up and look cute, because it made me feel like everything that happened to me didn't matter and I was fitting in like everyone else.

Around the same time, I found myself losing my thought a lot.  By this I mean I would start driving home, would kind of space out, and then would come back a couple minutes later headed for Edmonton.  This happened a few times, and I'm still not sure why it happened, but oh well.  I didn't tell many people because I didn't want to freak anyone out.  I actually mentioned it to my boyfriend of the time, who told me not to tell him about it because he didn't want to know.  That was kind of a bad call (hindsight is 20/20). This problem will come back later, so sit tight!

Another thing that happened was I moved far enough away from my surgery that I was able to get a piercing!  One day, Mom was like 'let's get your nose pierced!' and I was like 'ummmmm' and she was like 'yeahhhh!' so we got in the car and went.  I was a little worried about it, because it's not every day you have a sharp metal rod punchered through your face (hopefully).  So we went into the shop in Kensington that looked super sterile, and jumped up on the bed to get it done.  Mom held my hand so I didn't start bawling, and she told me to shut my eyes.  She punched it through and it barely hurt at all, I guess because I had had and was having enough pain to minimize all other pain.  My eyes started watering like mad however, almost like I got punched in the nose.  It looked great though!  So we went home all happy.  That was on January 7, 2006.  I remember the date because it was mine and my boyfriend's one year anniversary, and I didn't tell him I got it.  He didn't notice until we were going up an elevator somewhere that night and was like 'whoa! What is that!'  It was awesome.

The second semester of Chinook started shortly after this.  I was in Math 31 and Physics 30.  I was worried about Physics 30 because I'd taken Physics 20 two years prior through a workbook only.  I, by chance, was in this class with the girl that had the chest tumour, and also with a guy who I'd started calling my 27 year old friend (I'm pretty sure he was 27 at the time), both of whom were in my Chem 30 class the previous semester.  The girl and I went up to the teacher shortly into the first week to tell her about our health problems because we would be away often, either from pain or from appointments.  She asked us what we wanted to do after, and we told her (engineer for me, something for the girl, maybe nursing?).  She gave us both a funny look, and then said 'you know, some people in life just can't do what they want to through no fault of their own'.  We both went 'um. Okay.'  It was so upsetting!  She had no right to say it.  We both decided to start hating her (because we were teenage girls).

Leading up to the end of the last semester at Chinook, Kyle and I discussed possibly getting tattoos together.  We had gotten quite close as a result of my health problems, and we wanted a way to symbolize it.  We chose the Red Cross because we had taken all of our lifeguarding courses.  We decided to do it, so we booked it, and on the fateful day Mom, Kyle and I got in the jeep and drove down to the Smilin' Buddha, a reputable tattoo shop in Marda Loop.  I got mine on the back of my neck, about a centimeter down from my scar, and Kyle got his on his left pec, right over his heart.  I had gotten freezing from the nurses from my infusions, so I couldn't even feel it.  They turned out great!  We got them covered and went to get some beers at the Regal Beagle.  A couple of days later, I was lifeguarding during lessons.  A teacher decided they weren't going to teach that day (douche), so we needed a lifeguard to teach for them.  Somehow, I was the lucky guard.  I was worried about my tattoo, but wore my wet suit so I thought it would be okay (that makes no sense).  Later that day, my family told me my tattoo faded terribly.  I realized I'd have to get it redone.  I went in a couple of weeks later, and he redid the entire tattoo for no extra cost.  I had no freezing on, however, so I got to feel the whole thing.  Though it was over my spine, it actually wasn't that bad.  To quote my mom, "It's not brain surgery."  It looked great after, and it's held it's colour beautifully, even now, 5 years later.

Sometime around now, I got my acceptance letter for early acceptance to the University of Calgary for Engineering in the mail.  I was ecstatic!  So was my family.  They actually called me at work when the letter came in the mail.  Kyle opened it and read me the whole thing, and the four of us were screaming and jumping up and down.  It was awesome!  I actually got in based on Extenuating Circumstances (or something... it was 5 years ago, give me a break).  I had to get two letters from teachers (one teacher form Chinook and one from my high school) saying that they thought I would do well in University despite my health problems.  I was pretty proud when I got in because I did it despite all my problems, and I saw it kind of as a middle finger to how my life had been so far.  It was great!