i said no no no! just kidding, i never said no. i was always up for more therapy, and that was because i knew i had nothing to lose and only everything to gain. my brain believed that nurse practitioner (because it was the only thing i had heard from a medical professional at that point) but my heart wanted to believe my parents. but i knew that if i wanted any chance of getting better, it was going to be through therapy. therapy was really frustrating the first couple of weeks, for me and for probably all my therapists too. i had absolutely no movement in any of my muscles so there was nothing really we could do, except they could passively move my joints and electrically stimulating my muscles to contract. i remember the moment we first used the e-stim unit on my hands. i saw my fingers move for the first time in weeks. they had been so lifeless seconds before, but now they were moving. i know it was just because of the e-stim unit but it was still so overwhelming to actually see that somewhere inside, there was life. that gave me a little hope and thats what i held on to. i had overheard a doctor recommend 4-6 weeks,but it had already been 4 weeks and i hadnt seen any improvement yet. i was terrified. but that fear made me want to work harder. but it took a lot of effort to have therapy 6 hours a day everyday, not only because it was discouraging not seeing any improvements,but also it make me leave my room and go to the gym where i would actually see all the other patients. most of them were triple my age and they seemed much better off than me. some had an injury that affected only one side of the body,or either the top or the bottom. and most could talk. i didnt understand why i was so behind. i used to sometimes like it when my parents would forget to put my glasses on for therapy (you guys know im pretty much blind without my glasses), so i couldnt see the world around me. i felt like if i couldnt see them, they couldnt see me. it was (and is) so hard to get up every morning to face an uphill battle. part of me wanted to stay in bed with my misery and avoid the looks from people wondering what the hell happened to that poor girl. but most of me wanted to fight. for everything i am, for everyone i love, and for the fear of what my life could be like, i chose to fight. in one of the first cards megan sent me, she reminded me what i had written in my embarrassing autobiography ( that many of you found) \’ I am a writer; I am a poet; I am a dancer; I am a tennis player; I am a leader; I am a fighter; I am a dreamer; I am a friend.\’ as the esteemed poet dylan thomas once said, \’do not go gentle into that good night. rage, rage against the dying of the light.\’ i wasnt going down without a fight. ever since november 29th, i get up every morning because i choose to fight.