The P.I.C.C line is gone. It stayed in over the weekend; today the home-care nurse came in and removed it. They are glorious, these people. They tell me it's going to feel odd, then when I look, the deed is done. They have the touch of the butterfly, they do.
My current medical and emotional situation indicates that withdrawing from the two art classes I worked so hard to get into may be the sensible way to go. I don't know that that will do to my GPA, not yet anyway, but the money spent will be gone.
That's something I hate most of all.
Actually, I'm kind of seesawing. The first step is talking to the instructors and seeing if they have some sort of program they can put me on that will catch me up or at least show that I've learned what I need to have learned. I'm going to try and speak with my advisor over the phone and find out if withdrawal is indeed the best thing to do.
Tough choices.
By Samuel John Klein of Portland, Oregon - Graphic Designer without Portfolio, aspiring artist who dawdled too long.
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