Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149510 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“That’d be so cool, Molls,” I said, and Luke agreed.
“That’s definitely something I want to be there for in person,” he said. “But you’ll have to save me extra tickets, though, because I’ll need a bunch of seats for all my new girlfriends.”
Luke’s doctors have given him a dismal prognosis in regards to his vision, and they’ve estimated that, in a few years’ time, it's likely he will go blind in both eyes. Molly is still dealing with adjusting to her amputation, but she’s also experiencing a significant amount of phantom limb pain. Per Molly, it sucks big time. And I’m not sure what the future holds for me. I may or may not walk again, and I can’t put my life on hold in hopes of a miracle.
But the three of us are a mere drop in the bucket of people like us, and there’s a space for me to help provide light at the end of many a dark tunnel.
We need space to vent our frustrations and the tools to fix the things we can. And we need someone advocating for that outside of ourselves and our families, during the most vulnerable time in our lives.
As Luke and Molly spoke and I listened, I realized that the someone advocating for the bucket of people like them and me could be…me.
After I left the hospital that day, I sent Elizabeth—aka Ms. Bartlett—an email. Ever since then, she’s been helping me get my course load updated to reflect my new major—a bachelor’s in Developmental Psychology that will hopefully lead to a masters of science in Child and Adolescent Developmental Psychology.
My end goal is to be a therapist who specializes in counseling and being a supportive resource for children with disabilities. Especially, children and adolescents who are faced with tragic, life-changing situations like Molly and Luke and me. I want to help advocate for them. Help them and their parents deal with the numerous difficult emotions you face. Help them find their path to acceptance, and more than that, their path to not just surviving but thriving.
“Sorry about that, Scottie,” Elizabeth announces as she walks back into her office and sits down behind her desk. It’s crazy how all those months ago—when everything had happened with my mom—I was purposely ignoring this woman. But over the past two weeks, I’ve been in contact with her so much that we’re on a first-name basis.
“No problem,” I say.
“So, we’re happy with the schedule changes?”
“Happy?” I question on a laugh. “More like ecstatic. Thank you so much, Elizabeth. I know it wasn’t easy, getting all of this switched last minute.”
“It’s what I’m here for, Scottie. I’m glad to do it.” She smiles. “So…do you think you’ll want to get a PhD in Clinical Psychology?”
“A PhD?” I furrow my brow. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Of course it is.” Elizabeth chuckles. “They don’t call you a doctor for nothing. But I’ve seen your grades, Scottie. I also see your passion. This is the kind of career you were made to do. So, don’t write it off, okay?”
“How about I’ll start with my bachelor’s and go from there?” I toss back, and Elizabeth grins.
“And how about I’ll be here for you every step of the way?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“Oh, by the way,” she adds. “I had an interesting meeting with Connie over at the Disability Services Office. She wants me to assist her in creating a survey for all students to fill out every year so that the university can be aware of any disabilities and provide them with resources that will help accommodate them. And I heard that you are the driving force behind this incredible change… Is that true?”
I can’t hide my smile. “It’s true.”
After some serious research on ADA accommodations on college campuses, one of the things I found out was that most universities—including Dickson—have students self-identify their disabilities. Every university appears to have a different process of self-identifying, but the commonality of them all was that it ends up putting students in a situation where they have to strongly advocate for themselves rather than having the university trying to advocate for them.
Insert me looking out for them instead.
And it appears that Dickson is taking my suggestions to heart. At a pretty rapid pace, to my utter surprise.
“I swear, Scottie, you can take on the world.” Elizabeth smiles at me from across her desk, and the only thing that comes to mind is… Hell yeah, I can.
My phone vibrates in my jean-shorts pocket, and I cringe a little when I meet her eyes, but she just waves a hand at me. “By all means, check your messages. I don’t mind.”
I glance down at the screen and see a text that makes me smile all over again.
Finn: Are you coming home soon, birthday girl?
“Well, with the look on your face, I’d say, it’s a good text,” Elizabeth comments, and I laugh.