Metallic Failure
It's amazing how much I can figure out by sitting down with pen and paper and writing. I've really been missing Grandpa the last couple of days, more than I have for a while. Early this morning, around 4 AM, I remembered what his voice sounded like when he said "We love you" the last time I talked to him on the phone (hours before his heart attack). I haven't been able to get his face or those words out of my head since. I've been putting off writing in my real journal because my right hand's been really bad the last couple of weeks, but I knew I needed to.
And I managed to figure out what has me so upset. Grandpa started his own biochemical research company called BioMolecular Products, Inc. back when I was a kid. It was his dream to pass the company on to one of the grandkids... He was always hoping one of us would become a scientist and continue his work after he retired or died. I was always interested in science as a kid. I went above and beyond all my teacher's expectations and was always willing to learn whatever Grandpa could teach me. When I was put into Accelerated Chemistry sophomore year of high school, he was so proud of me. And I did really well in that class, too. Not straight A's I don't think, but I definitely had an aptitude for chemistry. And, more importantly, I loved the class. I loved the experiments and the theories behind them. I even loved doing lab reports.
But near the end of the year, my right hand was giving me enough trouble to choose Algebra II instead of Honors Algebra II. My math teacher thought I could do alright in Honors, but that it would require a lot of extra work on my part. And with my hand the way it was, I decided I couldn't take Honors. That was the beginning of the end of my science career. Senior year, I had to withdraw from Accelerated Physics in the final quarter because I hadn't been able to write all year.
Though chemistry was still one of the subjects I was considering majoring in in college, I had to face facts: I was going to have a very tough time getting into a decent chemistry program with my record. By the end of senior year, my right hand was useless: my lab partner had to do everything during experiments because I'd always drop things. What kind of chemistry program could I get into when I couldn't even physically manage labs?
I applied to St. John's and was accepted, and that was the end of that. Two months after graduating high school, I got my right wrist fused. On Tuesday, the metal that's tormented me for 7 years is coming out. The metal that has become a symbol for me of all the failed dreams, all the hopes that my right wrist dying dashed away.
Not only mine, but my Grandpa's.
And I managed to figure out what has me so upset. Grandpa started his own biochemical research company called BioMolecular Products, Inc. back when I was a kid. It was his dream to pass the company on to one of the grandkids... He was always hoping one of us would become a scientist and continue his work after he retired or died. I was always interested in science as a kid. I went above and beyond all my teacher's expectations and was always willing to learn whatever Grandpa could teach me. When I was put into Accelerated Chemistry sophomore year of high school, he was so proud of me. And I did really well in that class, too. Not straight A's I don't think, but I definitely had an aptitude for chemistry. And, more importantly, I loved the class. I loved the experiments and the theories behind them. I even loved doing lab reports.
But near the end of the year, my right hand was giving me enough trouble to choose Algebra II instead of Honors Algebra II. My math teacher thought I could do alright in Honors, but that it would require a lot of extra work on my part. And with my hand the way it was, I decided I couldn't take Honors. That was the beginning of the end of my science career. Senior year, I had to withdraw from Accelerated Physics in the final quarter because I hadn't been able to write all year.
Though chemistry was still one of the subjects I was considering majoring in in college, I had to face facts: I was going to have a very tough time getting into a decent chemistry program with my record. By the end of senior year, my right hand was useless: my lab partner had to do everything during experiments because I'd always drop things. What kind of chemistry program could I get into when I couldn't even physically manage labs?
I applied to St. John's and was accepted, and that was the end of that. Two months after graduating high school, I got my right wrist fused. On Tuesday, the metal that's tormented me for 7 years is coming out. The metal that has become a symbol for me of all the failed dreams, all the hopes that my right wrist dying dashed away.
Not only mine, but my Grandpa's.