The web I can’t unweave

For as long as I could remember, I had one goal that stood out above the others. I wanted my name to be recognized. I wanted people to mention every achievement of mine when the name Cassandra rolled off of their tongues. I wanted a legacy.

I knew I was smart, always excelling and being the best at everything I do - everything that didn’t involve talking and socializing at least. It’s not that I couldn’t make friends. I just didn’t think I’d have the time or use for them after graduation. See, the thing is - I had just turned 18 and it was fall. I should’ve been finding a dress for homecoming or prom or getting caught sneaking out but I always did the right thing and wasn’t great at talking to guys anyway so I spent most of senior year just like the rest. Studying, competing, excelling and keeping to myself. But it all changed in a moments notice.

I was finally taking my SAT exam which I studied for months just to make sure I’d pass. Except I didn’t. Not because I’m stupid but because I passed out forty-five minutes into it. It’s like I was reading a question one minute and then someone turned off the lights. I came too about two hours later in a hospital bed. My parents stood by my bedside as they continued discussing with the doctor not knowing I could hear them.

“What caused this?”

“Does she have a concussion?”

“What are these tests for?”

After the third question, I tuned out my parents for the sake of my sanity. But the doctor chiming in brought me back.

“We’re not sure what could’ve caused this but there was something in her CT scan that we would like to investigate before giving a proper diagnosis.”

As soon as the words came out - I gasped, redirecting everyone’s attention to me. Conveniently, it was the last thing I wanted. My mom came running to my side, holding my hand and telling me everything was alright. My dad smiled at me and gave every false reassurance he could muster in the minutes I laid there silent. What could I say? What could I do? I’m strapped to a bed with cardio monitors, an IV drip, blood pressure cuff and EEG electrodes monitoring my brain and sleep activity.

I went from a woman on a mission to a lab study. A project that no amount of studying would’ve helped me pass. And even if I could - what did the doctor see? What’s wrong with me? How do I fix it? Why did he leave before giving me an explanation? I’m his patient. I want answers. I need them.

I start to get up frantically but my mom pushed me back into the falsely comforting pillow placed perfectly behind my head asking frantically that I rest and wait until the tests and labs are done. I was never the kid to disagree or fight with my parents. And with the pain radiating in my head, I felt no need to argue. So I allowed myself to slowly drift back into the oblivion that brought me here in first place.

I silently listened to the room with my eyes closed until I couldn’t pretend anymore. Whatever it was that the doctor saw would have to wait. As much as I needed to know, I knew I needed to rest. And if my parents knew anything was wrong - they didn’t intend to say it in ears reach for me to hear.