I went into last September’s term somewhere better than “totally fucked” but not quite at “fighting fit”. I should have waited. I didn’t. Mistake One.
I had no idea there was such a thing as Good Academic Standing as it related to progress on a degree that hasn’t even been defined yet. Mistake Two.
My body had the gall to fall apart before I found out the above, and my shit-for-brains advisor failed to advise me from the beginning of the term which is when she knew I was sick. Trusting her was Mistake Three.
I withdrew, and I printed out the “Justify Your Inability to Beat Your Head Against This Wall Any Longer” form, but had nothing concrete to put on it because diagnosing this crap took longer than it had any right to take. Mistake Four was not demanding a Western Blot after a positive ELISA for Lyme, resulting in having to take the nastiest antibiotic ever to cross my path, which made me too damn weak to even consider getting the form filled in with “Fuck me, I don’t know!” and mailed on time.
Mistake Five appears to be waiting for a diagnosis instead.
Mistake Six is not being made of fucking stone, what with my uncle and my grandmother biting it in the same half-year. Eh, by then it was probably too late.
But I have a diagnosis! And I can write to the doctor who made it and ask him for documentation! Now I can, anyway.
I swear if one more goddamn problem gets heaped on my head, I will take a lot of drugs, get on a plane, and retire to Germany until the problems fuck off and die.