A week ago today I wrote this, and saved it as a draft:

“Four days, and then I am out of here. Goodbye, rainy Copenhagen! Hello, heatwave-that-has-been-compared-to-Hell, New York! Here’s to a pleasant American airport experience!

• Passport renewal – check.
• Travelers insurance – check.
• Birthday presents for Andrew – check.
• Present(s) for my mother-in-law – check.
• Pretty dresses to wear on special occasions (like 4th of July) – check.”

The title of the draft was “Preparing”. Everything was planned, packed and ready to go. Then something happened. Sunday night I had an epileptic seizure — my first in three years. I was standing on the side of my bed about to switch on my bedside lamp on when it came, and I woke up a couple of hours later on the floor next to a puddle of my own vomit. I have never felt as lonely as I did waking up on the floor in my own apartment, completely by myself. I don’t know how long I was out for during the seizure, and I chose not to look at the time once I “came back” to the real world. I just remember scraping myself off the floor and going to bed. I also remember my hip being very sore, which at the time I assumed was just because of me falling down.

I had an oral exam in Danish at 8.30am the next day, which I went to… despite of the agonizing pain, disorientation and feeling that something was completely wrong. I went straight to the hospital after the exam, where I was told that my hip was broken in two places, and that I was in no way going to New York.

That was five days ago. I have been staying with my grandparents ever since, because I can’t take care of myself. My body is beat up and bruised from the fall, and my hip is anything but stable. I am not allowed to put any sort of pressure on my left leg for the next six weeks, which means that I will have to use crutches. I am still in shock that this happened, and am unsure how to deal with all of the emotions and disappointment I feel. To make matters worse, my mouth has become full of blisters as a physical reaction to the trauma my body has been through… this means I can neither drink, eat, nor talk.

This was supposed to be the summer I have been working towards the last two years — the best summer of my life. I can’t believe that this happened, I just can’t. I just graduated, and yet I can’t feel any excitement or happiness, because there is nothing to celebrate.