Travel Pathology

It was a promising, beautiful summer day. I woke up in my riverside bedroom feeling my best self, so I went on a 1.52 mile run (although I must admit to walking half the distance; the elevation in this area is undeniably challenging). After the run, I decided to treat myself to a visit of my most beloved coffee shop in town where I would type out this blog post and drink my traditional chai latte. As if the universe had teamed up with my idea of an ideal day, when I arrived, my favorite corner of the coffee shop was somehow available to me during the peak tourist season in my hometown. Gleefully, I accepted the affirmation that this was indeed an ideal day and settled myself at the window table, arranging before me an array of novels, my journal paired with 7 different colored pens, my laptop, and my Rick Steves guide to Scotland.

To initiate my inevitably productive morning, I eased my way into my email with a freshly steamed chai latte in hand. I regard my email as a sort of to-do list crafted for me by the requests sent from others. Logging in, I first noticed the bold message from “Professor…” and I eagerly opened the email. School, classes, books, and exams were all truly underway. Only students have professors, and I was one once again, after five years as a bedside nurse—a student!

The email contained the customary congratulations for gaining admission to the program, along with a warm welcome to the university. It directed me to a checklist of tasks that needed completion before the start of school. Naturally, I had already gone through this checklist months earlier, similar to how I had meticulously packed and repacked my suitcase multiple times, ensuring thorough preparation for this inherently unpredictable life transition. However, on this perfect morning, I chose to revisit the ‘Before You Arrive’ checklist, reaffirming my sense of readiness.

Have you received your CAS Number? Check!

Do you have a valid passport? Check!

Do you have your visa? Check!

Do you have your visa application decision letter? Ye-…..my… my what?!?!?!

At that moment, the genre of my day switched from a happy sitcom to a suspenseful drama.

Visa decision letter? Doesn’t the indisputable fact that I currently possess a UK student visa nullify the purposes of whatever content may be in a “visa decision letter”? Isn’t it quite evident that a decision-a correct decision, I might add- has already been reached? Where does one find this decision letter? How necessary is this document?

Unfortunately, the cortisol in my system at this point has rendered me mentally blind as I tried to zoom through website link after website link, searching for more information on this presumably major life-altering document. I could feel the essential skills of data processing and critical thinking becoming blurred within my brain, as I slid into a state of mild panic.

To the credit of the University, there is no shortage of accessible information for new students to find how this document will appear in their mailbox and when. Apparently, the UK government would send this letter via email or by way of physical address. This news was rather distressing to a nomad such as myself. Consider this the first of many pleas to eradicate the need for physical mail as much as possible in this society. Exceptions, of course, would include love letters and birthday cards, as I would regret a life experience devoid of the joy of receiving written words from loved ones. However, a visa decision letter, if it must be in the form of a physical document, should be hand-delivered by way of a courier, perhaps even accompanied by a trumpet procession. Which address could they have sent it to? I was living in Newberg, OR during the time I applied for my visa, and I had the visa sent to my home in Grand Junction. However, I have my mail forwarded to my parent’s residence in Buena Vista while I am overseas. So which mailbox holds this ticket to my dream school??

In my heightened state, I decided nothing productive would be carried out this morning and to my disappointment, I only was able to make use of my rarely available and highly desirable window seat for a mere 32 minutes before I hastily packed up my unused journal and untouched novels and sped home to investigate every document that has been sent to me.

The house was empty when I arrived, so I didn’t bother with maintaining a casual façade. I sprinted upstairs to my bedroom, leaving every door open in my wake. Hyperventilating and in a state of panic, I threw open my suitcases and rummaged through my bedside drawers, searching frantically through all of my official documents. However, there was no sign of the visa decision letter.

Okay, what if I just show up in the country with only my visa? They wouldn’t kick me out just because I don’t have a redundant “visa decision letter’” would they? I remembering hearing that you can stay in the country for up to three months, and then it’s simply a matter of hopping the boarder for a few days before you can reenter the country for another three months. I would only have to do that four times over the course of my studies- totally doable. I could even study from Spain, perhaps.

Since I was unsuccessful in locating a physical copy, it occurred to me that I should check every email address I possess and every inbox, spam or otherwise.

No dice.

Okay, maybe I didn’t need to go to school. Wasn’t that big of a deal. And honestly, I wasn’t overly excited about it anyways. All it would have been was work and no pay. Looks like I just saved myself 50k. Look at me go!

I sent an email to the student help center, explaining my predicament. However, considering the time difference, their office was likely closed by this point. I realized I’d have to wait until the next business day before potentially receiving a response that I optimistically hoped would be along the lines of “No need to worry, it’s not an issue at all. In fact, if you ever come across a letter of this kind, use it for fire kindling on your next camping trip.”

After about an hour of searching, my adrenal glands were wrung out dry, and the stress-induced haze began to clear from my mind. I then reevaluated this situation in a more coherent state. Logically, past-Kaylin would have saved any email that was identified as even remotely important since May. Surely, she wouldn’t have thrown anything away that showed potential significance. I still have every amazon confirmation email since 2013, just in case. With a strange new faith in my past self, I decided to go through each and every email in my inbox once again, even if it didn’t seem related to my visa.

Oh, found it.

Amidst the multitude of emails from the UK government this summer, I unearthed a PDF that arrived without any description. While the document bore some resemblance to the examples provided on the university website, it wasn’t an exact match, and therefore, did not completely cure my anxiety. The logical next step was to have several copies of this document printed and to have an adult go over the content. The only available printer was at my Dad’s office. Packing up my laptop, I left the house in a more level-headed state than how I arrived.

“I need a mom!” I barge into Meghan’s office. Reading my body language and tone she stands from her desk as frantic as I am and meets me on the floor as I display the email on my laptop and lay out the excessive copies on the floor before her. Meghan is my Father’s coworker and a family friend, who was hired for her organizational skills and because she is just so bloody fun to be around. After arriving at the office and successfully printing out my suspected ‘visa decision letter,’ I needed a second pair of eyes to confirm that I had indeed completed this critical mission

“I don’t know how to get to England! I’ve never been! But I can try to help you…” was Meghan’s sweet response as she looked over the university website and my printed copies.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure you have what they are asking for.” She assured me as she scanned over the printed documents.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, honey, look, there’s the bold section stating you have been accepted, there’s the government address… you’re fine.”

I exhaled a long breath that I had been holding since the coffee shop.

“Ok, good, so I am going to school,” I said matter-of-factly, punctuating the statement with a nonchalant gesture that made our current situation—sitting on the floor amidst my important government paperwork—seem perfectly ordinary.

“Yes, you are going to school.” Meghan assured me.

We laughed as I narrated my morning, sharing the tale of my frantic state and laughing off the silly nuances of attending school in Britain. Despite everything that had occurred, it was only 11:12 a.m., and I still had the entire day ahead of me. At this point, rather than aiming for an ideal, productive day, I would happily settle for a normal, uneventful one, filled with predictability and thoroughly enjoyed chai lattes. It would probably be best to go through the checklist again and perhaps repack my suitcase, tucking a copy of this seemingly pointless letter into each checked bag and my carry-on.

In fact, I’m going to check right now if I still have it!