Hello! It's been a while. I've forgotten the password the other blog, haha. The chances are I won't blog again until this time next year. Or some age later. I dunno.

This summer I went back to Hong Kong for nearly a WHOLE month, and needless to say, it was bloody hot. I mean HUMID. We don't do wet heat in the UK. It took a while to get used to everything, but I settled eventually (being a native HK-er afterall). It's been ten years since I left HK. Wow. I've been alive for nearly two decades, half of my (short) life has been in UK. It was nice seeing all my family, the last time I saw them was two years after my gcses, and this time, I had/have a cousin-in-law (?) and a niece. Honorifics got so confusing I gave up trying to work it out. Everyone got a little older, some grew skinnier, some grew fatter, some grew taller. At first it was like the world got on the earlier train and left me behind, until I realised that I've grown a lot too. Not in height though. I'm still only 167cm tall.

This summer I read five Dickens novels, George Eliot, Robinson Crusoe, Dumas, Ulysses, Sense & Sensibility and some other novels. I had a very long reading list sent by post to occupy me even in HK. Unfortunately much of my time was spent at doctors'. Remember my wrist pains, yeah, I still have that. When I returned from HK, I went to see the rheumatologist, two weeks before university. My doctor, told me that from my blood tests, family history and arthritis , I most likely have SLE, and should start taking medication to treat it. SLE is not a particularly rare disease, a lot of people have it, just not active. She gave me some hydroxychloroquin, and all was fine and everything was tiptop. I wish.

Two days after taking the hydroxychloroquin, I had a terrible rash, which spread all over my body. I also had frequent fevers, chestpains and headaches. When I called my GP, they gave me an appointment for two weeks later. So I went to the clinic. The doctors there gave me antibiotics, thinking it was a virus. It didn't work. I couldn't sleep. My mother had to keep washing my skin with cold water and keep the fan on. Then it was October and I had to go to Oxford.I

On the first day, it was not bad. There was a heatwave then, but it was just about cooling. We drove for two hours up to Oxford, my parents went to the supermarket with me to get food for the week, and I got the keys to my room. Everything was okay. But then I had a fever again. The rash got worse, spreading to my face, hands, feet, everywhere. My doctors thought it was an allergic reaction and told me to get allergy drugs. By this time my parents had gone back home, everyone was enjoying freshers' week, and I had had to miss dinner with my tutors because I was physically incapable and frankly, hideous. I called my mother, who drove up and went to my university GP with me. He was great, very understanding, and knew exactly what he was doing. He told me to take double dose of steroids, that the rash was caused by my SLE. I got better for a while, and my mum went home again.

It was now a week since I came to Oxford. Work was now set by my tutors, and it was time for matriculation. Matriculation is the ceremony where new students officially become students of the university. For formality's sake, we wear a gown and carry a mortar board which is worn when we graduate. Bearing in mind that I hadn't slept for three days then. The steroids helped, but not much. At best I got three hours of sleep per day for the entire week. As you can imagine, the lack of sleep took a serious toll on my face. My eyes were VERY puffy and bloodshot, and just in time for matriculation photos. I tried to enjoy the day as much as possible, drowning myself with coffee. And it was a lovely day, it made me feel proud and grateful to be part of an amazing institution with my new friends. I hadn't met many people since I mostly stayed in my room, and even missed Freshers' fair. But I knew a few people on the first day and the people on my course. I was kept sane thanks to them. I cannot express how much pain I was in during that time, being alone in a strange place, and feeling like death. Even just one or two texts, made me happy because someone remembered that I was still alive.

The term started after Freshers' Week. I hadn't slept for over a week. My mind was going. It's strange how thoughts become warped when you don't get enough sleep. I had been taking painkillers and allergy drugs regularly to help me sleep, which lasted for four hours at most. They made me very tired and drowsy during the day, I was hardly fit for tutorials and lectures. On that Monday, I had had enough. My head was killing me, and I couldn't sleep. I felt like flinging my head at a wall to knock myself unconscious. I called my parents at 3am and asked them to take me home so I could sleep. People on my floor had been going out every night and drinking, and I was a light sleeper, even if I didn't have an itchy rash. When I went home, things didn't get better. I still didn't sleep much, but I had some rest. I had intended to return the next morning, but it was impossible to get back before my tutorial. That the one tutorial I had missed.

My mother came up to Oxford again to look after me at night. The rash was on my face again, and I was very hot because of the steroids. To cool down I had to keep my head in cold water for hours and sleep on the window sill. Neither my mother nor I got much sleep. At last I decided it was enough. I went down to see my junoir dean in the morning, and told her everything, how I was diagnosed before coming, how the doctors thought it was an allergic reaction. They were very helpful, they notified all the necessary people, my tutors and the nurse. My GP got me an appointment with the Oxford rheumatologists right away. I don't think I would have survived without all their help and support. They made me feel safe finally. I went to see various doctors at various hospitals with my mother, at the same time, trying to go to lectures and the library. I had endless blood tests and even a biopsy that didn't really show anything. It was hard, and it was painful. But I knew that whatever pain I was feeling at that time, my mother felt ten times as much. She had been through all this before. I tried my best not to worry her too much, since all this time, her past experiences had hung over her like a shadow, fearing that her SLE would pass onto to me. It wasn't her fault. I just wish she would worry less about me.

Because I was ill, I couldn't work very much, and I fell behind somewhat. What I felt was anger and helpless. Angry at myself, my own body which betrayed me. I had worked so hard to get to Oxford, and I couldn't even get through the first weeks? My tutors had then been informed of my condition, and were asking me whether I wanted to defer the year until I was better. I said no. There was no way I am going to give up after all that work. I told them, that I WILL definitely get better, and will stay at Oxford. I had applied because I wanted to become the best. My resolution remains the same at this present time: I will succeed.

And so, after seeing some more doctors, I was sent to the dermatologist, who gave me some emolient cream and steroid cream. Ten days later, I became better, and eventually settled into normal routine. My fresher experience was undoubtedly unconventional, certainly not enjoyable. The most painful part, was for me, was the feeling of weakness and not being in control of mself. I pretended to feel well. I had never been one to beg attention, and don't like to attract more attention than necessary. I lied to my friends on facebook and told them I was having a good time, I told my parents I was feeling better. I hated not being able to do what I dreamed of because of my own weaknesses. I won't let that happen again.

It's been eight weeks since my ordeal. I've enjoyed nights out and dinners with friends at Oxford since then. Even at my lowest point, I never regretted coming to Oxford. I couldn't have been in safer hands. What remains with me now, is the feeling of gratefulness and contentment, of being lucky enough to study at Oxford, and having such wonderful people around me. I didn't ask for anything at Xmas, because I had everything I could possibly want: good education, good friends, loving parents. I still haven't told my non-Oxford friends about my illness, mainly because I want them to always see me as the happy, cheerful person that they know, not the deranged, pitiful person that I was. I wanted to blog this because I needed to share this experience with someone, anyone. It's hard to talk about this with people I know well. I can't help crying when I talk to my tutors about it because I keep remembering the pain I caused to my mother at the time, and the loneliness I endured. Maybe one day I will feel secure enough to tell someone in person. I just need someone to know that I suffered and survived. There are other people in this world in a worse situation than I, with life-threatening conditions, living in dreadful places without people to love them. I am and always will be thankful for the life I have.

Have a good 2012, make sure it's a year to look back on.

love, Christina

I've come here to say that I will kow my fate in five days when my exam results come out. I am currently very very very very scared. So scared I feel ill. All I can do now is hope. I've done my best, and I hope that was enough.

To all the fellow students receiving results,

Let's hope together.