{All in a Month} PART THREE: The Graduate

Let's talk about Chris on drugs and taking a test.

Sigh.

Chris did, in fact, take his final comprehension exam, before knee surgery, like any normal person would do. After he passed, he scheduled his oral exam for him to defend his life's work (or just all the education he had ever received in his existence). His oral exam just so happened to get scheduled for the day after his knee surgery.

Ha.

Ha ha.

The day after surgery, I drove Chris back up to da OC (we were staying in Ramona---follow the story, ya'll) for his oral presentation/test/exam/idon'tknowwhatthewordisthatgoeshere. He was as high as a kite, doped up on pain killers. His knee was bloody and five times bigger than it ever should be, and it's safe to say the poor kid was in excruciating pain, even with being as stoned as he was.

He was a mess.

When I dropped him off, I couldn't help but think how ironic it was that he was preparing for the test-of-all-tests of his Kinesiologists life, and he just had Orthopedic surgery. Is that funny to anyone else, or only to me that has been his study buddy for the past billion years he has been in school, where learning about human movement has been the single most fascinating thing to him? Anyone? Anyone?

Moving on. I patted him on his back and sent him on his way.

A few hours later I went to pick him up--- I knew where he was because there was a random human sprawled out on the ground in front of the Kinesiology and Human Science building when I got there. I'm sure he was moaning and/or crying. It took him about 12 hours to hobble from his designated spot of death to my car, which was an agonizingly far 15 yards---give or take. I passed him a percocet as he got into the car. 

I asked how he did and he said, "Well... I tried really hard to focus on what they were asking me; and I think I did really well. Eventually they just said, 'Alright Chris. Ya know what? We're going to just let you go. We're sure you know what you're talking about, but maybe you need to go home and take a rest. We're going to pass you, but really, you need to go home. Go put that leg on ice, and take it easy. E-mail us when you're feeling better so we know you're still alive.'..... So, ya. I think I passed."

And I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. The poor dying creature just wanted to be swaddled and put to bed, but instead was being asked big long questions, with big long words like, "theory". 

Go figure.

And that was that. The end of his Masters career, summed up with knee surgery, barbiturates, and incoherent responses.