I, like everyone I grew up with, went to the RMV to get my learner’s permit the soonest day I possibly could. Of course, my 16th birthday was on a Sunday, so I went the very next day. I still remember it like it was yesterday. However, my 16th birthday was in March of 2020. Exactly two weeks after I got my learner’s permit, it was announced that my school would be “closing for two weeks,” and we then spent the rest of my sophomore year online. As much as I appreciated being able to do school from bed to not exacerbate my social anxiety, nothing I needed to do to get my license was really happening for me. The driving school was closed for several months before reopening with limited hours, where hundreds of backlogged drivers were waiting to book. My dad, the only person willing to drive with me, was working a frontline job, and I was avoiding contact with him despite our constant testing to make sure none of us had COVID. Even though I was at home, being a chronically ill person makes it harder on me when I do contract something, so I did everything I could to avoid it altogether, even though that meant sacrificing my driving. So, we did everything we could given the circumstances. I’d book the occasional driving lesson and always hear the same thing: “You need to drive with your parents more”. My sister had always heard the same thing, but she got her license on her first try. So how hard could it possibly be? As I’d later find out… pretty hard.
In the summer of 2021, I had been having lessons every couple of months, but they were saying that my vision was not where it needed to be, and I needed to meet with a specialist who worked with the driving school on how to adapt driving. My entire family knew that my eyesight could pose an issue; I’d had two eye surgeries before I even turned 8. One of the leading surgeons for my eye condition in the world later confirmed with us that most people with it do struggle to drive, but I was not willing to let it get in my way. Even though I was brokenhearted to be driven back and forth to the summer camp my sister and I were working at, I knew that one day I wanted to drive myself to my own job. I just didn’t know quite how far away that day would be. That summer—and the coming fall and winter—I had multiple seizures, which essentially “suspends” your license (or in my case permit) for 6 months at a time. The rules vary, and where I’m from, the suspension is run on an “honor system” where they hope you don’t drive for 6 months, but you don’t have to report every seizure you have to the state.
So, when I returned to school in the fall and was one of the last people who still had to call their mom to pick them up, it sucked. There is no better way of putting it. As much as I love my mom (and her 5-star worthy driving), it was not easy to jump in the passenger seat as a high school senior. Especially for me, I’ve always been independent, and having to rely on family to get me to and from everywhere was not great. I felt especially bad for my friends and my new “little sisters,” which every senior at my small, all-girls Catholic high school gets assigned. When I was a freshman, my “big sisters” carted me around in their car, we listened to their music, and I dreamt about the person or people I’d get to bring around in the car my Grandma had bought for us to “share”. Nonetheless, when October rolled around and I was nowhere closer to finishing my driving lesson hours, my two “little sisters” hopped into the back of one of my friend’s cars and off we rode. No one had ever said “we wish you could’ve driven us,” and my friends hadn’t said they were upset having three more tagging along. Still, I knew deeply that those were probably thoughts in people’s heads. Eventually, as the year went on, my epilepsy got even worse, and my date to drive again was pushed further back. It was on Christmas Eve that I learned about the suspension of my permit, but the ER nurse led me to believe the state would know, and I would be in some kind of trouble for having a seizure. It didn’t make a lot of logical sense, but I tend to just believe the people who didn’t seize for 6 minutes, it can make me pretty delusional. After my release that night, I thought about how I wouldn’t be able to drive myself to any senior events. We graduated in the end of May, and I would not be cleared to drive until June. I wished I still believed in the guy who wears the red suit so he could come bring me a Groundhog Day style redo of the day I’d lived through.
Instead of a redo, I got medication adjustments and symptoms! Yay! I personally thought, “How could more of a medication that I was already on start making me dizzy?” Even thinking to ask this question is perhaps why I should have realized not to go pre-med… but you live and you learn. As much as teachers, friends, and family tried to help me, it became obvious we were all frustrated. I missed the same class almost every day to go home (partly because I was burnt out from Spanish and partly because I wanted to go home so I didn’t pass out in the parking lot on my walk to class, still sorry, Señora). On top of everything, I had a massive senior project to handle. It was comprised of a 10-page paper, an art piece, and making connections between the book we read for the paper and the art piece we chose. Ironically, the theme I chose was memory. For those who know anything about epilepsy, memory tends to be quite the struggle, so it still makes me chuckle to this day that I ended up choosing that one out of a number of things I could’ve gone with. Of course, with such a large project the undertaking of figuring out how to play a 5-minute flute solo standing after reading to a room full of classmates, teachers, family, and peers made me less than comfortable. The day before my presentation, I was practicing with the adjustment counselor and a number of classmates and almost fell because the room started spinning. We spoke with my English teacher, and he did something I’ll always appreciate: he told me I could go the following week. He knew I had all my work done, but asking me to stand up for 10 minutes or more during the first three months of my new dosage was a big ask. He told me at one point I could sit, but I refused. I was going to do it like everybody else. If I couldn’t drive myself to school, I was going to do everything in my power to stand for that presentation. So, on my rescheduled date, I did it. Little did I realize, my struggles at that time would not be the last of my struggles with driving.
In March of 2022, despite not being able to drive at the time, I had to renew my permit. This time, I took the test online. When I finally got my privileges back in July (yep, it got pushed back again), I was on the road! Doing lessons with the driving school was technically not a requirement, but my parents wanted me to finish out so I could take my driving test there. So, I took a couple of lessons, then headed off to Stonehill with no license. I went home in September to take my license test for the first time. Essentially, a woman hopped out in front of the car, and I slammed on the brakes to not hit her. I was then freaked out, and I was nowhere close to having the coping skills needed to handle parallel parking (right by the proctor’s car). So, it was an immediate fail. I honestly don’t remember when I took it the second time. I just remember the woman taking my paperwork saying it’s “impossible” to fail with this guy. But, as I often do, I made the seemingly impossible possible. It wasn’t so much what I did as much as how I carried myself; he could tell I was anxious, and I was a little too close to things for comfort, which I definitely agree with then and now. So, my summer going into junior year, I had a full-time internship and not much room to drive. My parents’ jobs continued to keep them busy, and I had to beg for transportation to places when my job description had stated transportation could be provided. As my mom and dad unpacked all my boxes into my room junior year, I promised myself I would drive myself to school next year. So, that’s how we get to today. I turned 21 in March, my permit expired in May, and I renewed it in June. My parents found a small car with almost no front to it, because my depth perception is horrible. I drove that car almost every day this summer. Everywhere my dad needed to go, I was going (and so was Salsa Sue, as we call my Chevy Spark). We even convinced my mom to drive with me sometimes too! I had a date in mind, August 19. It was going to be the day my fate was decided. Would I drive myself to school? Well, when the day came, my emergency brake was “not working”, but when we brought it to be checked, it was holding what it needed to. My dad and I don’t understand much about cars, so his friend took a look at it (bonus of having a dad in the trades, I guess). Since I didn’t technically fail, but my car did, I was able to rebook for as soon as the next day. I booked for a different RMV that my dad had begged for me to book at originally. The odd thing is, the night before the test, as we drove around potential routes, I didn’t feel anxious. I was sold. I got through the vehicle check, I could get through the driving.
Finally, the day came. I strolled in and waited by the road test sign, 30 minutes early. The proctor came out immediately. I went out to my car, put the paperwork where I was supposed to, and took a deep breath. The same person who took my paperwork came out and got in the car, he could tell I was anxious. “I’m a nice guy, probably the nicest you could get” and we pulled out after hand signals and all the boring stuff. A cop was waiting and let me go out of the parking lot. I made all the right turns, I backed up straight against a curb, I was checking all the boxes in my head. As he said, “Let’s head back,” I felt suddenly nervous. Did I pass? Did I fail? He started off by saying my parallel park wasn’t great and I thought I failed, but then he said, “I’m going to go ahead and pass you today,” and I flipped out. I don’t think I’ve ever said thank you that many times in my life. So, I got to drive us home that night and knew I’d be driving myself everywhere. Then, my dad told me my car needed a repair. So, I wasn’t going to have my car for the first week. We got over it, and now my car is at school. It’s still so weird to me because even though people my age have been driving for like 6 years, I literally just made my first drive over like 20 miles by myself. Even just being able to drive myself to the grocery store feels like an indescribable freedom. Thanks Mom for the rides, but I’ll take it from here.