What A Tuesday!

Tuesday what is going on? It's not quite 10AM. And I feel so out of sorts. I didn't sleep great last night. But honestly, that's nothing new. Or groundbreaking. But I woke up feeling so anxious. I was able to get myself ready on time. I basically ran to the bus stop. And then the bus never came...

I waited for almost 40 minutes. The bus I usually take, didn't show up. The second line that goes through the same area...never came. But that bus is notorious for not showing up. I checked online...and there was no bus on the way. So I was getting ready to walk to the main bus depot. And here comes a bus. By a miracle of God...I made my connecting bus. 35 minutes later than normal...but I made it.

Once I got to my normal stop, I realized I didn't put on my shorts, under my dress. About a month ago, I learned this the hard way. I'm positive I flashed everyone going into work one morning. Not on purpose. Just a sudden burst of wind. So I was being cautious on my 4 block walk. That includes going over a freeway. 

When my cousin's ex-wife popped out of nowhere. Stopped in the middle of the busy street. She wanted to give me a ride. I was less than 2 blocks from where I volunteer. So I assured her I was OK. And we were blocking traffic. She then told me to tell my Mom Hi and that she missed her. I nearly burst into tears right there. She didn't know my Mom died over a year ago. It was so weird. I just stood there. Like if someone had hit me over the head. That was a first.

In the end, I was only running about 40 minutes late. Which isn't really late. If I'm supposed to be checking in at 9:30AM. But I'm used to being early. Not rushing. Having some time to go pick up something to eat. Because I'd forgotten my breakfast at home. The Gas Station had already sold out of the yogurt I usually buy. They didn't have any bananas. So I left.

At this point, on a normal day, I'd go for a 20-30 minute walk around the neighborhood. But I didn't have time today. So I walked across the street. And towards the building where I volunteer. To almost be hit by a doctor. Whom I'm going to guess...was late to work. Because it was 8:20AM. And he was driving like a crazy man. It was me, a Porsche, an elderly lady that was slightly ahead of me with a walker, the big work truck that was trying to get through, or the curb. He ended up driving over the curb, hitting the landscaping, and yelling at all of us. I just thought...either you were going to kill that lady or me. Or crash into that Porsche. And then I'm assuming there would have been a ton of trouble. Because the owner likely would have had a heart attack...over being hit in a parking lot.

So I came straight to check in. I'd originally planned to go to Medical Records. Because I need my parents' records for my Genetic Testing. But I was already out of sorts. I actually checked in 2 minutes before my usual time. But this morning has really thrown me. 

I also forgot I was meeting someone who had ordered a stuffed toy from me. So I had to dash outside. And the parking lot is so full today! Since I got here...there was very little parking. What is happening today? I got to my customer. And back inside. To find the Gift Shop a mess. And not stocked. So I spent a good 40 minutes doing that before opening. 

Lately, I've noticed things like time...really get me flustered. Or if something throws my day off. I struggle to steer things in the right direction after that. I don't know what it is. I was prescribed some meds for anxiety. But if you know anything about me. I don't like to take medication, unless I absolutely need it. So I haven't been taking them. But I probably should have taken one this morning. I still feel jumpy. And not myself. Plus I'm so hungry!

Trying to Find My Way Back

When I first entered the HealthCare arena...as a working professional, I was 20 years old. I lived and went to school in a community that was underserved. And depended greatly on the college students. Who at the time, worked in our local healthcare system, and held 80% of those jobs. The thing is, my college has this amazing nursing program. And the Nutrition Program is also greatly sought after. A little hidden gem if I'm being honest. 

So weeks into switching my major, I was working at my local Department of Health Office. About 2 months in, I was in the ICU of our local hospital. It was all very quick. But then again, I was a quick study. My professors and the doctors I worked under, felt like I could handle it all.

I spent a solid 10 years working. In hospitals. In clinics. Doing research studies for the Universities I attended. Eventually, I became a contractor for the Hospital System my family uses. And when I made that leap, to move home and take care of my aging parents, I slowly slipped away from work.

Maybe I was naive. I thought after my Mom's services, I'd be back to work. Maybe take the Summer off. And then jump head first. What I didn't anticipate was the mental unpreparedness. 

For the first couple of years, after I moved to take care of my Dad, I had continued to work. When and where I could. I was a contractor where he received care. So I'd fill the gaps where I could. Mostly working at the Main Hospital. On weekends, I'd drive 4 hours to return to the Children's Hospital where I worked. During the week, I'd check into our local hospital when I could. I also had a pretty flexible position within our state's Department of Health.

Eventually my Dad's health got to be so bad, that I had to stop working. His care, basically became 24/7/365. We couldn't trust him to drive. He was being hospitalized more and more often. Falls were so common, the local Fire House knew us personally. Things were just spiraling downward. And when my Mom could step in to help...it usually left me doing something for their business. So work was on hold. 

After my Dad's death, I struggled. Mostly silently. With grief. I tried to keep everything together. More so for my Mom. She needed me to be strong. I continued to go to a Support Group that we'd attended as a family. In the Cancer Center where my parents received care. I'd visit my Dad's grave daily, while my Mom was at work. She'd returned part time. 5 months after his death. But I knew I was having a tough time. I saw the hard stuff, that no one else saw. I helped my Dad, keep things from my Mom. Like when I actively knew he was dying. And so did he. But he didn't want her to know.

I gave my Mom and I a goal. One year. At one year, I'd start taking the necessary steps to move back to my home. To reclaim my life. And to get back to the career I'd abandoned. I also felt like that was a good amount of time, to attend the Support Group. Not to mention, I was having TeleMed appointments with my therapist 4 hours away.

Something was off with my Mom. I thought it was the grief of losing my Dad. She didn't go to counseling like I did. She didn't even know that I was seeing a therapist. My Mom held tight to her faith. When I brough up moving, my Mom slightly panicked. 

I thought maybe it was because she hadn't really taken care of any finances, since her and my Dad got together. And after his death, I was the one paying the bills. Making sure things stayed on track. But that wasn't it either. Maybe she didn't want to live alone. I mean, we sort of inherited a dog 2 weeks after my Dad died. And when I brought up moving...my Mom instantly fought me for the dog. The dog she didn't want, when my cousin didn't pick her up. The dog that was attached to me. Literally, attached to my side. At all times. So I'd spend 3 months looking in all the City Shelters. To be told, I needed to get a puppy. Or the two dogs would never get along. Long story short, I ended up with a puppy. So technically, neither of us would be alone.

But that wasn't it either. We'd spent that first summer, basically at my Dad's graveside. Daily my Mom wanted to visit him. We'd have lunch there. Take the dog. Sit for hours. Listen to music. Read books. Just talk. About 9 months after his death, my Mom was just not OK. I couldn't put my finger on it. We were fighting a lot. She seemed off. But I didn't know what was really bothering her. 

I let things go for a few more months. I figured we could talk again, around the anniversary of my Dad's death. I thought, I could move in June. Take a few weeks to get things in order. Then I could go work in July. But my Mom wasn't having it. 

I knew she had a long trip planned with my Aunt and Uncle. So instead of going back to work in July, I told my supervisor, I'd go back in December. Why are those the only times when they want you to enter the workforce? It's a hospital thing. So we agreed December. But my Mom got sick that Summer. And was diagnosed with cancer in September. She spent at least 6 months, in excruciating pain. At diagnosis, the Hospitalist told her she could no longer work. Or drive. Basically, if she couldn't drive...she couldn't work. So there I was. Back at square one. Not sure what I should do.

My plans to go to work were thrown out the window. Fast forward a bit. About 6 months after my Mom's diagnosis...she either started to tolerate the pain better. Or maybe it got slightly better. She slowed significantly on her pain meds. And I decided, we needed some income. So I entered the workforce. With the Department of Health (DOH). Previously, I'd worked in their Clinics. Both the basic clinic. And with Women, Infants, and Children. So I took a job with WIC. 

I didn't realize it was going to be so tough. But it was, what it was. I worked online when I could. I'd go into one of our local offices to teach classes. Once a week. But my Mom, she wasn't doing well. She was struggling with basic stuff. The pain got worse. Neither of us had decent doctors. We were still trying to get her Health Insurance.

Eventually, I stopped going in to teach. Because I couldn't leave her. My Mom couldn't pick up a gallon of milk. Or bend to pick up laundry. She couldn't open a bottle of water. So I did the online thing. For a few months. Eventually, it just wasn't working out.

I'd spend the next 4 years, taking care of my Mom. We got into selling at our local Growers' Markets. Selling our crafts. I started helping friends. Who in return would give us veggies, pies, and bread. Whatever they sold. I just tried to help. And was so grateful for the help that they gave us in return. 

At the high point of the pandemic, I started doing TeleMed appointments. Both for the DOH/WIC and the Children's Hospital where I once worked. Technically, I'm on a leave of absence. I took FMLA when my Dad got sick...and then just changed the leave when my Dad's health worsened. 

From time to time, I still help them. Especially during RSV Season. I tried to convince a good friend of mine, to take a Part-Time RD job with them. But she is happily raising her daughters. I worked remotely from May 2020-July 2021. But my Mom was needing more and more help. By July she'd had two falls. And broken her arm multiple times. She know needed help bathing. I needed to do all the household chores. 

So naively, I thought I'd start working 6 months ago. Until my therapist raised the Red Flag of doom. That she didn't believe I was ready for work. Not only the stress. But it's not like I'm going to be behind a desk. Or dealing with numbers. Or cleaning. I'm going to have people's health and lives in my hands. She just didn't feel like I was ready.

In October I applied to volunteer. In the Hospital. It's a 5 minute drive from my home. I figured I could start with one day a week. See how everything goes. But that's not where they needed me. I ended up at the Hospital nearest the Cancer Center. Not with patients. But in the Gift Shop. Huh?

It's been OK. As my OCD has gotten worse, it has been a mixed blessing for the Gift Shop. I've torn it apart. Cleaned. Organized. I've decorated for every Holiday since I've been volunteering. In January, I started volunteering twice a week. When two of the volunteers got into a fight. 

For the last few weeks, I've been here three times a week. Because the other volunteers are struggling to get along. And they've taken some time off. Again, it's not the place where I want to be. I want to be making a real difference. Not staring at the walls. For 2 hours. Then having a big surge...of selling junk food. Then being bored and stocking shelves.

I know the employees value the Gift Shop being open daily. Especially since the cafeteria isn't always open. We're now open daily. For four hours. It's a steady thing. But last week, on my third day of the week being here. I decided to take a look at the Volunteer Listings. There's rarely anything at this location...that is available. Outside of the Gift Shop. So I started to read through all the listings.

I decided that maybe something clerical woud be good. I could do that for a few months. Then maybe move to something with the patients. I found something. Agreed to all the terms. Sent my necessary documents where they needed to go. And I got it. I was quite pleased with myself. Took all of 5 minutes. 

When I got home on Thursday, I decided to read through my emails. And I found the Volunteer email. I didn't realize it was for the Cancer Center. It's a clerical position. I honestly, don't have a clue what my duties are. The listings are pretty vague. Hence, I didn't know it was in the Cancer Center when I applied. 

It starts in May. I knew it was weekly. But I wasn't sure, how long it would be for. Turns out, 5 months. It also conflicts with one of my days in the Gift Shop. I knew that when I applied. But I'm OK with letting that go. Since my goal is to ultimately get back to work. The Gift Shop is not going to help with that. 

I truly hope that I do OK in this position. I'm hoping to also take a minor position at the Main Hospital. Reading to the NICU babies. That would be weekly as well. 4 hours too. I might try to start that one, later this month. Then if everything is going OK, by July, I'd like to talk to my therapist about going back to work again. Those are my goals to reclaiming my career. Little by little. 

His Kindness

I got the most unexpected call today. But it meant so much. I was having the worst day. As I'm sure so many of you, could imagine. The last few weeks have been so difficult. Unexpected. And have left me feeling so numb.

In all reality, I haven't processed the last few weeks. I haven't cried much. Haven't begun to grieve. I just feel like I'm in shock. Walking around not feeling. Just going through the motions. This is grief. It's real. It's powerful. It's hard. And heartbreaking.

My Mom's services were just over a week ago. I should have grieved then. Cried. Really felt all the feels. Been present in the day. And what was happening. But I was trying to be brave. Be solid for my family. Since my aunt was diagnosed with lung cancer, days after my Mom's death. She had a biopsy on the day of my Mom's rosary. My already emotional family...is teetering on the edge.

And then there was the financial stress of everything. I seemed head under, from day one. Doing it all on my own. Wishing I had the support of others. That people could see, I needed help. I literally was trying to pay the funeral off, up until hours before. I now owe some relatives. But at least my Mom is at rest. This all after I was attacked by our loved ones, because a friend setup a GoFundMe to help. And I closed it down, almost immediately. I'll struggle silently. Because I can't handle all of that drama. 

This week, has just been slow moving. I'm not sure, what's really been going on. The days bleed into each other. I seem to be struggling to keep going. I've reached out to my PCP, for Grief Support or counseling. And it fell on death ears. 

I'm struggling. So bad. My family doesn't seem to recognize or see what I'm going through. In fact, I haven't heard from any of them. I shouldn't be surprised. Because let's face it. They really weren't around when my Mom needed them. Why would they be here for me?

So I was digging in the yard. Trying to keep up with my Mom's flowers. And deciding what  the dogs and I would eat for dinner. Today was so difficult emotionally. I just sat down, in my Mom's favorite part of the yard. And cried. Just let all the emotions sweep over me.

Then my phone rang. Can we say surprised? It was after 5:30PM. On a Friday evening. And I saw the oh too familiar phone number, of the Cancer Center. Who could it be? Is there an emergency? Why would they be calling?

I answered with a very confused, "Hello?" Tears still silently sliding down my face. To hear my Mom's doctor. His calm and steady voice. The voice I'd come to find so much comfort in. Like a sign of safety. He went on to give me his condolences. A lot like the staff at the hospital, he was shocked to hear about my Mom's death. I know. I'm still in shock. But to hear the medical staff say it...I know I'm not alone. No one saw this coming...

We talked for a bit. I tried to hold the tears in. To stay calm. To keep a steady pace about our conversation. But I just couldn't. For the first time since my Mom's death, I just let it all out. Poor Dr. N. He wasn't expecting all of that. The tears that had started out silently. Came in a waterfall effect. The ugly crying started. I couldn't breathe.

And he was just trying to tell me how sorry he was. To ask me...if there was anything he could do. Not expecting my reaction. Or that I'd really ask for help. I couldn't form words. Much less sentences. My brain turned to moosh. I just couldn't find the words. Finally I asked him, if he could help me find some counseling or therapy. I know...I NEED it.

He promised me, he'd talk to the therapist on staff. Told me, he was there if I needed anything. But honestly, I feel stupid. Like why did I finally lose it? And on him. Like crying so hard, I couldn't breathe. I was literally laying on the floor. Trying to catch my breath, telling him I was OK, and asking for help. All at the same time.

Maybe it's because he walked this journey with us. I mean, when someone sees the same things you are seeing. It bonds you. Even if you don't realize it at the time. Maybe it's because he's always been so truthful with us. That I felt this comfortable. I haven't even fallen apart like this...with family. Not even when I've been alone, have I allowed myself to feel the raw emotions.

I needed this call more than I knew. More than he probably knew. I can now see, how important these conversations are. Post caregiving, I have a completely different outlook on patient care. If I return to the medical field, I'll carry this with me. I'll remember how this call, changed things for me. And how I want to be that for someone else. 

Maybe it was his kindness. The simple fact, that he took 10 minutes out of his busy schedule, to ask how I was doing. Something that no one else has done. What does that say about my circle? How little, people really care about MY well being.

I can feel the bottom starting to shake. I know that I need therapy. A lot sooner than I expected. It's all crashing down around me. I'm starting to grieve my Dad. Who past away over 7 years ago. It's like for the first time in my entire life, I get to put my needs ahead of everyone else. And that's so scary. 

10 minutes. A simple call, from a man that was a complete stranger...2 years ago. But I feel like he understands my needs, better than anyone else in my life currently. We got off the call. And I just laid on the cold tile...crying. For almost 2 hours. It was like he opened the flood gates. And everything just came tumbling out.

From the bottom of my heart, I hope that's not how this chapter ends. I'm sure I made zero sense. Sounded like a buffoon. He was probably thinking, I should be committed. For my safety and the safety of those around me. Because my brain seemed to be short circuiting. I couldn't get the words out right. Nothing seemed to be working right. 

I have so much respect for Dr. N. For everything he did for my Mom. For his care over the last 22 months. The respect he showed my Mom. How he always referred to me by name. Knew who I was. Because in almost every other practice...the staff didn't remember my name. They didn't include my Mom in conversations about her health or care. 

This was the first person, besides nephrology, that saw us as people. Real people. Not just another chart to get through. How crazy, that you can establish a closeness...with people that you don't see often. Yes, in 22 months...we probably made it to an office appointment...during 20 months. There were a few telemedicine appointments in between. But was that enough time, for someone to really get to know you? 

I can't tell you what Dr. N's favorite food is. What he does outside of work. What his family looks like. The same way, he doesn't know much about my personal life. He always asked about my work. But he didn't know what my real career was prior to being a caregiver. How I was also a performer. That I can unload a truck of hay...in stiletto heals and pencil skirt. No, we don't know the details of each other's lives.    

But he recognized that I'm struggling. He anticipated that the grief would come and hit like a HUGE wave. And leave me drowning. He anticipated that better than my family. And he reached out. Something no one else has done.

For a few moments, he created a safe space for me. To grieve. And to cry. To feel the emotions that I've had bottled up, deep inside my soul. For that, I'll always be grateful. I hope that Dr. N, doesn't think I'm crazy. I'm just at my lowest point. Trying to keep my head above water. Long enough to breathe. And keep me going. Until I can find my footing again. I'm forever grateful for his kindness. And if nothing else, I hope he knows that. I am grateful to this man, that took such amazing care of my Mom. 💜