Clotting Factor

It’s been another long gap between posts.  I’ve had a string of big days at my Full Time Job.  It frustrates me because – they work me until I’m sick but are still not even close to considering hiring a new body.  Facts are – there is way too much work for me alone, being chronically ill doesn’t change the amount of work lumped on me or that its too much for one person.  And no, before people start saying I am not sitting there silently and just doing it.  I have repeatedly asked for another resource – even a shared one would be a move in the right direction.  My requests have fallen on deaf ears.  In the last week I have been pretty ill.  I went to work already sick on Wednesday.  By the time I had met both of my deadlines I had taken 12 Panadol, 4 Nurofen and 2 Asprin.  Just to stay at work… and for what?  Why do I do it?  Staying under the health circumstances I was under meant that I wrote myself off for the entirety of my long weekend.  I have managed to stay out of bed today but…. is my employer being fair on me when I have no one to fall back on when I get ill and have to stay to the of my own health?  Why am I still there?  Why do I put up with getting treated worst than someone in good health is treated?  What am I doing?  These are all questions I am going to have to be accountable for soon.  The reality is I am continuing to get treated the way I am because I am allowing it to happen.  Reality is – I could walk away.  I could find myself a job in a large team who can pick up the slack when I fall down.

I think it comes down to seeking stability – that’s why I’m still there.  My health is so round about and up in the air… I know work is hard and I am not in the best place for my mental and physical well-being.  But I do know what to expect day in day out.  Is that more important than my ongoing health?  I wish I could answer that at the moment.

A few weeks ago now I went for my “just making sure we’re not killing you faster” blood test.  You know the one they give you to make sure that your liver and kidneys are working and things seem to be in moderate order when they change medications for the umpteenth time.  My regular pathologise wasn’t there – I think she was on leave or perhaps I heard she had finished her contract.  Regardless – a new woman sat behind the desk and again I got 20 questions about my condition, medication and blood work.  Its sad but I prefer to be on first name basis.  It means you don’t have to answer all the same questions in front of a full waiting room of people there for routine bloods.  It tends to scare them – to the point you end up with free seats on either side of you when there is a full waiting room and standing room only.  It really does make you feel special in all the worst ways.  Anyway.  I got there at 7:55am and the place opens at 8.  There was already 5 people queued and one had a glucose tolerance test referral – great.  My 10 minutes late for work soon turned into 40.   Embarrassingly enough – these tests aren’t standard so she had to look them up in “the book” in front of everyone… with commentary. Groan.  Finally when I did get in – it took her three goes to get my vein (which made a lovely mess)… then I wouldn’t clot and she hit the panic button.  Wanted a full medical history – asked me what medication I was on… I wheeled out my spreadsheet (yep I have a spreadsheet so if I am incapacitated the hospitals know what normal medication and what pain medication I am taking)…  she blinked down the list… went white… handed it back to me and started at me silently.   “Can I go?”, I asked… getting a little impatient.  “Not really, until you have clotted” she replied.  I looked down at the gouged mess that was my vein, looked back at her and said “yeah – I’m going, you can give me a band aid if you like – but I’ll be fine”.  Honestly – two drops of blood does not call for intensive care or a blood transfusion.

Its so strange – until medical people open their mouths, the people around you treat you normally.  After they whip out a few terminologies, people avoid eye contact and try and cross the street to get away from you.  It’s like the add says – we can treat our illness, but we can control how people treat us once they know.  Its strange – because when you confront someone about the way they are treating you – their don’t think they are treating you any differently… I have come to the conclusion that its bread into humans that we fear illness and mortality… sad thing is – I am not sure I would have been any different if I hadn’t of woken up through the looking glass one day.

I’m not sure – but I sure hope I would have been.

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