Just over three years ago, I received my Oxford offer.
Like most sixth formers, my Oxford acceptance email came in the middle of my mock exam season. On the 11th January 2022, I had two A level mock exams to sit: a two-hour history paper in the morning, followed by an English Literature exam in the afternoon. I told myself I wouldn’t check my phone all day because I didn’t want the outcome to affect my exam performance. But to be perfectly honest, I was pretty convinced I wouldn’t receive an offer and I wanted to postpone the inevitable crushing sense of disappointment which would come with the rejection.
At 4pm, I came out of my English literature exam in high spirits. The paper had been a success and I knew my teachers would be pleased. We all collected outside the exam hall, whispering to one another our responses to the essay questions. In the middle of the conversation, I remember feeling someone brush past my back and squeeze my arm. It was my history teacher. “Congratulations,” she said, before walking along.
In the midst of this post-exam relief, I had completely forgotten about my Oxford application.
I looked at my best friend, dumbfounded, before practically running all the way home. Once back, I frantically searched for my phone, and shaking, opened the email to read I had received an offer…
Fast forward three months from this day, and I didn’t want to come to Oxford anymore.
I was experiencing debilitating stomach pain as a side effect of medication, and had lost all energy and motivation to study. I couldn’t revise for my exams. I spent most days in bed, suffering from excruciating pain and extreme fatigue. Understandably, my parents were very worried. I later learned I was not the sole cause of their concern, though. They had kept it fairly secret, but my dad had also been ill and was undergoing tests as a result of blocked arteries. I would only come to understand the extent of his condition when he suffered a cardiac arrest in the middle of my A-level exams, and was taken by ambulance to hospital for a triple bypass operation. To say the least, the summer of 2022 was particularly traumatic for me and probably one of the worst periods of my life.
So, come August results day, I was shocked to see that I had achieved my offer. My family had been unsure I would get the grades. After all, I had gone into each A-level exam relying solely on my long-term memory, being unable to revise thoroughly.
You’d think I’d be happy with achieving my offer, but I was still quite ill, and I had not been able to get to the bottom of my abdominal issues. Every day, I would wake up with the same constant ache in my abdomen. This sensation had become so familiar that I worried I would feel like this forever. I couldn’t remember a time where my stomach wasn’t at the forefront of my mind. It was all I could think about.
This was not how I had imagined I my A-level results day to feel. Although I was somewhat pleased with my grades and went to a party with my friends, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I was extremely anxious about the months ahead in the run-up to starting uni. More than anything, I wanted to get better. I was desperate for the pain to go so I could move on, start uni, and forget about the summer. But I also knew this wasn’t realistic.
After countless hospital visits, blood tests, and X-rays, I was put on new medication, which only aggravated my symptoms further. Feeling worse than before, towards the end of September 2022, I made the decision to defer my place at Oxford on medical grounds. Deferring my place felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had been so worried about starting uni whilst feeling so unwell, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come here anymore.
During my impromptu year out, I was still in denial about starting at Oxford. Fundamentally, I didn’t want to study here because I knew how much of a challenge navigating academics with an ongoing illness would be. But I had other concerns too. I wasn’t your typical Oxford applicant. I didn’t achieve a clean sweep of grade 9s at GCSEs, and I hadn’t had aspirations of Oxbridge from age seven. Unlike, seemingly, everyone else, I wasn’t sure Oxford was the place for me. In the time leading up to starting at Oxford, I considered turning down my offer and going to a different university instead. It was only with months of counselling and the encouragement of my family, I realised I should take this opportunity I had been given. I could still remember the excitement I had felt receiving my offer, and I had worked so hard up to that point that it seemed silly to give up now. I had to fulfil my eighteen-year-old self’s dream.
Today, I am still coming to terms with my disability. I have been diagnosed with numerous different conditions which affect my everyday life, and in turn, affect my ability to study. I would be lying if I said I don’t sometimes think about how different my life would be if I were studying somewhere else. But I am trying to take every day at Oxford as it comes, with its opportunities and challenges, because I think I often forget that it is a privilege to study here. Studying at Oxford is a dream which does not materialise for so many people. We are the lucky few.
Now when I tell people at uni that I took a ‘gap year,’ they always presume I was rejected from Oxbridge, reapplied, and then spent the summer backpacking around Asia. This couldn’t be further from the truth. I spent my gap year processing my diagnosis of a rare immunological condition, MCAS, taking medication to get better, and volunteering at a primary school. It was unconventional, to say the least.
But here I am still. I am now halfway through my degree, and staying in Oxford for my eighteen-year-old self, whose biggest wish came true on the 11th January 2022.
