The end of November

In all fairness, I’ve been especially busy and distracted this month, so I shouldn’t feel bad about not getting past the first three thousand words in my NaNo this year, but at the same time… yeah, I feel like a lazy cuss for not devoting the right amount of time and energy to it. I mean, come on! I can usually crank out at least 5,000 words a day – 10,000 if I’m left alone long enough – so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal…

Except, in all honesty, my “space-age adventure” probably would have focused a little too much on the interpretation of fetal heart monitoring, uterine contraction patterns, compression interpretation, the fallibility of modern medicine, and umbilical cord anomalies.

Ah, well… there’s always next year… and Script Frenzy in June…

Daniel and I have been home since Saturday (was it that long ago…? Was it Sunday?), and I should probably feel a little guilty for not “resting and healing”, but it just feel so wonderful to be able to walk again, to not have to unhook something when I have to go to the potty, to not have to hit the Nurse button and wait patiently to be paid attention to so that I can shower… (pun intended)…

By the end of my stay there at Cheyenne Regional Medical Center, I was pretty miserable and depressed, pulling myself up by my bootstraps every single day with the reminder that my own misery was a drop in the bucket compared to the joy of Daniel being alive and healthy and strong, and another couple of days would be just fine, no, really. I think what really brought things out to an unhappy place by the end of it was that the nurses could no longer come in and visit with me, that the support staff weren’t allowed to visit, and that I was clearly seen as either chopped liver or something far less appetizing. I was no longer a patient – read “no longer had any business being there” – once I was converted to being a boarder, but I don’t think I really needed to be converted to boarder status when I was since the diabetes was still spinning out of control and I wasn’t getting adequate support for that in the first place.

I spent an entire day in bed crying. Yes, I know that there’s this “baby blues” thing that happens when the Hormone Dump begins, and I probably had more reasons to cry and let myself experience those dark feelings than the normal person did, but it’s still pretty unusual for me to bypass the opportunity to get up and move around, go for walks, etc., in favor of sitting in bed and power-sniffling my way through an entire box of tissues. I felt very betrayed by the nurses, especially when the spinal headache hit and all of my attempts to ask for help – to get any kind of help so that I could maybe stand a chance of taking care of my baby – went unanswered.

I really don’t know what I’m going to say when they send me the usual post-hospitalization survey. So many people came through for me in the early stages, in more than few moments saving my life and saving Daniel’s life, but being so rejected once it was over was as bad as if they’d stayed clinical in those first few weeks.

I can’t bring myself to be upset at the fact that I couldn’t finish that egg for the Wyoming Arts Council, nor can I feel guilty at not committing myself to the $1500 for Verizon internet access while I was gone (the cost of the access card, plus $60 a month for two years in a nasty contract). Lili read her cards for me shortly after she got them, and she was very clear about the answer she got – that I’d have to sit down, let go of things, and let someone else take care of the rest of the world so that things could work out okay. I think I might have a sit-down with her when she gets home and remind her about that reading – I think she’ll enjoy knowing that she was right.

At the moment, it’s time for me to get back to work. Although my e-kids are great at policing themselves, I still need to get some stuff wrapped up for them, as well as getting some creative marketing done. There will be more about that later, once I have permission to discuss it.

My previous premonition about the intense suckiosity of working for a bloated corporate conglomerate was dead-on. Luckily, I’m just a consultant, so I kinda get paid either way, but my pride in my work is being greatly compromised by their inability to allow anything positive to happen.


Dawn Written by:

One Comment

  1. November 29, 2007

    working for soulless corporations are awesome, they never even bothered to check if I had a soul or not when they hired me, and it feels good knowing that I’m cheating the system, because while they think they own my soul, I know that, for a fact, they are only holding on to a piece of paper that tells them they own my soul, because I already sold it for a piece of cake…

    and ew, the data plan for the internet access card is $60 a month? no, you shouldn’t feel guilty about that shit at all, in fact, you should be angry at soulless corporations.

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