I approached noon happy . . . tired but happy. Then I got the mail. I did not see that bat to the head comin'.
Coping with being sick, being fatigued and foggy, is challenging enough. Losing the ability to teach was a whopper. Now the insurance company is saying I can work, just not teach, so it's the boot for me. Get a stationary job. Oh, yes, insurance company, I been sittin' around, stoked out about my diminished capacity to focus and verbalize for extended lengths of time, luxuriating in the inability to cope in a workplace. Yep. Good times. Recently, my "foggy" brain had me convinced I had a tumor or alzheimers. I started writing a book so my brain wouldn't totally evaporate, even when writing meant one sentence a day. Hence, two hundred and fifty pages taking me a year to produce. Believe you me, I want to be a worker bee again. Those of you who know me, know I'm a charge ahead kinda' gal. Frankly, having to convince some desk jockey that I'm not a loser is giving me insomnia. It makes me feel skungy, sketchy, vulnerable to an out of control train. And the fact that trying to work will incapacitate me, put me back in bed for weeks at a time, has my stomach crawling out my mouth.
I was a hard worker, loyal for so many years. Why is this happening to me? If I apologize to Karma, can we just sweep whatever mean-girl crap I pulled in a past life under the rug?
Next up: new round of doctor appointments, appeals, lawyers . . . I'm so tired. But I'm not giving up. How can I? Auggie Mar needs a momma, a momma that feeds him and washes his underwear. He goes through a lot of underwear. Besides, we wrote a children's book together today. That puts me back to happy.
No comments:
Post a Comment