It Takes a Village
The weekend before the last week of class, I set out on a bike ride with three friends from school. We were excited to enjoy the afternoon outside, and three of us were training for a triathlon that we had signed up for together. On the way home from the ride, my wheel got caught in a railroad track, and I was thrown from my bike. When I came to, I was on the ground and had no idea how I got there! I looked up and immediately felt comforted by seeing a familiar face, one of these friends, telling me that I was going to be OK.
The other two pulled up by bike, and one quickly called 911. One rode in the ambulance with me. She and two other friends from the class who met us at the hospital stayed in the E.R. with me for five hours on a Saturday night to make sure I was okay. I ended up with a broken wrist, stitches in my forehead, and road rash down the right side of my body.
I credit co-chairing the 2014 Business Plan Competition for bringing me together with a friend who generously offered to take me into her home and take care of me in my recovery. She drove me to all of my appointments and took copious notes. She managed all of my medicines for me and checked in on me constantly to make sure that I was comfortable and had what I needed. She even washed my hair for me over the side of the tub—creating a salon-like set-up with a camping chair and a removable shower head—since I did not have the dexterity to do it myself. She took me to my surgery at 6:30a.m. Keep in mind that all of this was during the last week of school and finals, which is a stressful time for everyone.
Throughout my recovery, I was flooded with texts and calls from classmates, professors, and the program office to make sure I was okay. Numerous classmates stopped by to bring dinner, snacks, flowers, and to see how I was doing. One even picked up my mom from the airport when she got to town after my surgery, even though they had only met once briefly.
A few weeks later, when I moved into a new apartment and could not lift anything with my right hand, the Foster family stepped in again. Classmates helped me unpack, hang things with a power drill, assemble furniture and dispose of boxes.
I am from the East Coast, and it was scary to go through something like this and not have family nearby. It was comforting how quickly the Foster family stepped in to take care of me and make sure that I was OK.
~ Guest post by Rachel Azaroff, Class of 2015 MBA Candidate
