Teaching Me To Feel Normal

(My service dog goes to school with me. My medical issues leave me with a specialized schedule in a dark classroom with my teachers rotating out instead of me moving. My favorite teacher is on his way when I pass out. This happens when I come to.)

Teacher: “How ya feeling?”

Me: “My head hurts.”

Teacher: “Well, you did fall out of your chair and it seemed like you made it your goal to hit everything on the way down. I thought you’d died. Spent fifteen whole minutes trying to bribe the dog not to tell anyone if I buried you behind the football field and denied knowledge of your existence. He’s a tough negotiator. Demanded a lifetime of royal treatment for his silence.”

Me: “Doesn’t sound too horrid. He’s a good boy: goes to the bathroom on command, even knows how to do laundry.”

Teacher: “My wife would have killed me if I brought home another dog. I would have had less of a fight bringing home your corpse.”

Me: “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m not dead, unless you wanted to add a corpse to the living room.”

Teacher: “Nah, you’re not wearing anything that would match the decor and she’s a stickler for that kind of stuff.”

(He was my favorite because he never made a huge deal about my medical issues. Everyone else freaked and made a scene while he was perfectly comfortable joking about it with me and making me feel normal.)

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