LIFE LESSONS
Chickenpox at Eighteen Was the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me
Time often reveals how personal disasters can lead to life-changing opportunities
When transparent bubbles started popping up on my wrists, I was curious and slightly concerned, but my mother’s crestfallen expression told me I was in trouble.
I was eighteen, and it was a few days before my last A’ level — an exam I had to excel in to have a chance at university admission. I’d been feeling unwell and had put it down to stress and exhaustion from late-night revising — but now I knew the reason. With a grim face, the doctor diagnosed chickenpox.
At first, I had no idea what the consequences of this illness would be and the enormous impact it would have on the course of my life. Five of my fellow classmates also came down with chickenpox, and I’ve sometimes wondered how it affected their lives.
I soon became very sick and lay in misery, feeling like I was dying. Itchy spots covered every part of my body except my eyeballs. Because I was too ill to take my exam at school, my parents arranged for a teacher to come to my home and supervise, from the far end of our living room. Sitting in my pajamas and robe, I looked at the test paper on a small desk in front of me. The questions were easy, and I knew I could get an A grade.
I picked up my pen, but a thick fog sat behind my eyes and wouldn’t shift. The harder I tried, the quicker the thoughts and ideas slipped away. I felt stupid. In the background, I could hear the teacher slurping tea and eating the cookies my mother had brought on a tray. The poor man was recovering from a stroke, and half his face was paralyzed. I felt sorry for him, but the slurping was distracting.
After an hour, feeling ill and exhausted, tears of frustration dripped onto the paper. I scribbled a few words, thanked the teacher for his time and went back to bed. When the results came out a few weeks later, I learned I’d barely passed the exam, and my dream of going to university with my friends slid away.
I was devastated.
Chickenpox had ruined my life, and there was nothing I could do about it. Even if I retook the exam successfully, I’d have to wait months before reapplying for university — forever a year behind my friends. I was so depressed I didn’t know what to do with myself. It was my first, memorable “Why me?” moment.
My dad tried to cheer me up by suggesting I spend the next six months at home revising for the exam and retaking it later in the year. Usually, I’d take his advice, but this time I said no. Mum, always the optimist, encouraged me to look for silver linings. After a few days of feeling sorry for myself, I started thinking through my options. What could I do in the eight months before I could reapply for university?
After searching for a week or two, I found work as an au pair, and soon, I was on my way to France. As the evening train pulled into Paris, I gazed at the city lights feeling nervous and excited. It was the first time I’d traveled abroad alone. I was taken to the home of a lovely family with three young children. I lived and worked with them for five months and fell in love with the kids.
To qualify for my residence permit, I attended a language school, and in my spare time, I wandered around Paris with my new friends. We drank coffee and wine and spent many happy hours with a group of talented Vietnamese buskers who eventually became good friends.
I celebrated my nineteenth birthday, drinking champagne and dancing with friends at the top of the Eiffel Tower. It was the best birthday ever!
If I hadn’t had chickenpox, I wouldn’t have spent an incredible six months in Paris. I wouldn’t have met my best friend and husband, emigrated to Canada and had the two gorgeous kids we have now.
I thought getting sick at eighteen had ruined my life. Time and perspective showed me this was not the case. What I’d considered a personal disaster was simply life, offering me an alternate path and an opportunity to grow.
Remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck.
— Dalai Lama
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