I was supposed to depart via charter flight for the central coast of California in order to be present for the birth of my Godchild. Alas, plans have changed, as they frequently do whre the births of babies are concerned. Jillian's blood oxygen levels have improved since she's been allowed out of bed. it had been anticipated that the increase in activity would place greater demands on her diminished oxygen supply, but the reverse has happened; increased activity has made it easier for her to breathe.
D-Day is now October 31, although there's no guarantee that the baby will wait until then. I've been told to have my bags packed, which they already are, and to be ready to leave with five minutes' notice. If it's in the middle of the night, Jillian's brother Tim will call me and will pick me up five minutes later to drive to the airport. I'll probably travel in my pjs if the call comes after I'm in bed. Tim lives in the same complex as I do. If the call comes during the day, my suitcase will be in my car. I'm packing lightly anyway since I have clothing and toothbrushes at home. I could get by without packing anything. my brother has convinced me to leave my kitty at the condo. The guy who hates cats has fallen in love with mine.
If nothing happens between now and then, Timmy and I will leave Thursday at 3:30 p.m. I'll return on the following Wednesday. I can afford to miss four days of class, or so my advisor and professors say. I hope they're not playing a dirty trick on me so that others can catch up. We have no official class rankings for the first six quarters, but we all know what the unofficial rankings are. Two others (both Asians, one male and one female, not that anyone is keeping track of such things) are even with me. The three of us have decided that we're a coalition rather than a competition, and we try to impress the faculty by appearing to be helpful to our more struggling classmates. We actually are helpful to some degree, but not quite so helpful as we try to appear to be. It's a game, and a very cutthroat one at that, but there's still room to be benevolent. Furthermore, blood is thicker than water. I'll do anything to help Matthew.
One girl in our cohort packed up in the dead of night and left. Even her friends don't know exactly what the problem was. She had friends -- I don't know of anyone who actively disliked her --, and she wasn't failing miserably, although I believe she failed one exam. One girl who knew her better than most said she was somewhat accustomed to prom queen status, and no one around here cares much about such things. Also, the friend said she had taken the bare minimum of course requirements for premed admissions, so she may not have been totally accustomed to the academic demands of medical school, not to mention the time constraints. If it's really not what she wants, I'm glad she figured it out before investing even more time and money in a medical education. I wish she had just been up front about it and said goodbye to everyone, but she may have been embarrassed to do so. In any event, I wish her well. Everyone around here is acting as though she committed suicide. She didn't. She just chose to turn her life in a different direction. If she was able to get into medical school, she should have many other good options available to her.
Matthew and I are the youngest students in our cohort, but there is a second-year student in the program who is only six months older than we are. I believe he's doing the five-year program, though, so we'll all graduate at the same time if he sricks with the extended program. Matthew has been encouraged to consider the five-year program because of his young age and because his entry qualifications weren't exactly blowing everyone else out of the water, but so far he's in the top half of the cohort (in the nonexistent rankings) so his advisor isn't bugging him about it quite so much. There's always time in future quarters to lighten his load and to take a longer path to get through the program, but there's no reason if he's passing with ease.
Anyway, my vacation has been delayed, but the important thing is that I will get the vacation. Delaying gratification isn't necessarily one of my favorite things, but I'm learning to live with ilie about.
P.S. So far, Judge Alex is wrong. No one has asked me out or even flirted with me. My behind-my-back nickname is "Jailbait" even though I'm just over a month away from 20.
Edited to correct my age. I lie about my age so frequently because I hate admiting how young I am (although my appearance does nothing to make my lies believable) that I sometimes forget my real age.