Tag Archives: frustration

Harassment, health, and hard decisions

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I hate Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I only slightly dislike Friday. Why? Because every work day is hell. Not only am I in pain, stiff, exhausted, and most days spend at least twenty minutes in the bathroom, but my job itself sucks.

I have several major problems with my job.

They give me a hard time about doctor appointments. I’ve only subtly referred to this before, but they don’t seem to be understanding at all, even though they claim that they “try to be.” (They have a lot of claims, actually. I’ll get to this.) My boss gave me false information about sick time policies, and I ended up getting in trouble with his boss, the guy who signs my paychecks. (I’m going to refer to my boss as Boss, and his boss as Owner.) However, I’m still not certain that I was ever given correct information about sick and vacation time, because my contract very vaguely states

BENEFITS: Eligible after 30-days of employment or March 11, 2011.
–Entitled to paid holiday time, one week of paid vacation and one-week of paid sick time.

When I missed two days because of my sinus infection and a nasty pain day, Boss told me that I would be paid for the days I missed, because I am salary. Not long after that conversation, he called me into his office again to inform me that he was wrong, that I wouldn’t be paid, that he had previously had no idea how the policy worked, and that I would from here on out gain a small portion of sick time per every so many hours I work.

Here is the kicker: My contract states March 11th, correct? Well, I’ve only recently even started gaining sick time, and have yet to gain vacation time. So far, I have only accrued 1.50 hours of sick time… which is completely off base from what Boss told me, and off from what my contract says.

So, when I have to leave early for doctors appointments — because Boss has strongly voiced that I should work 8:30-4:30 because “after that, our team isn’t around” — I have to make up the hours. I have to tack on extra time to my work day, which would be fine — if my regular eight hours didn’t already completely wipe me out. If I have a bad pain day, or get sick, I have no sick time to use, so I have to either go in anyway (which I’ve been doing), call out and miss the day of pay (which I don’t think they calculate properly, truth be told), or call out and make up the hours throughout the current pay period.

I do not mind going by a sick time policy… when that policy is actually clear.

They hired me for one position, but have me doing something completely different. My contract lists my position as “Social Marketing and Web Design Coordinator.” During my interview, we discussed my social marketing experience, my web design experience, and how much I knew about SEO. I told them that I had a very, very basic knowledge of SEO: meta tags. My resume strongly illustrated my social marketing and web design skills. During that same interview, I was told that I would be doing “just a little SEO.” Upon starting, I was told that I was not to focus on social marketing, and that I was hired specifically for SEO. Um, what?!

Still, I tried. I genuinely love social marketing. I created plans, offered solid suggestions… all of which were instantly shot down, or completely ignored. So, I tried to learn some SEO. Unfortunately, you don’t just magically become an SEO expert. It takes years of experience to know what you’re doing. Yet I tried anyway. They still instantly shoot down or completely ignore my suggestions.

Day to day, Boss has me working on SEO-focused projects. I don’t have a problem with learning something new, but I do have a problem with working on a project that he directly oversees that he completely forgets about the next day. I am not exaggerating when I say that every day he tells me to do something that I have already done — a project that he came up with, that he oversaw, that he uploaded when it was completed. He frequently changes his mind about what I am supposed to be doing, and has told me to ignore any of the tasks that Owner gives me because “they’re not at all a priority” — but that’s another rant entirely.

Even better, when I give him suggestions that he shoots down or ignores, he later presents them to Owner as if they were his ideas.

The girls at work tell me that it’s not just me.

Speaking of the girls at work, I frequently feel like I’m in high school. Every day, they giggle about something, and when I ask what’s funny, I quickly get “Nothing!” as a response. Today, I brought in grilled chicken and a salad for lunch. Not long after putting it in the fridge, the two girls and my boss began loudly commenting that it smelled. I went to use the bathroom — which was fun, and I’ll get to that — and when I came back, all three of them asked me several times if I brought bologna or hot dogs, even after I said no. Throughout the day, they commented over and over that “it smells like bologna!” I got so sick of hearing it, that I didn’t even eat my lunch, because I didn’t want to hear it any more. I thought my chicken smelled like, well, chicken, but to make sure, I asked my mom to sniff it. She said it smelled like chicken, too. It smelled good to me!

It’s not really a big deal. I just felt like they were specifically targeting me… and the daily “mystery” giggles just add to the feeling that I’m not welcome. To my face, they’re nice. I even know one of them; she dates Mike’s friend, and the four of us go out all the time. I didn’t think she was that kind of person, but sometimes, I’m seeing differently.

Each day brings on new health-related challenges. I am constantly combating fatigue, joint pain, joint stiffness, and my GI issues. Today, for example, my wrists and fingers were so stiff that it took me a really long time to type four-word sentences for a To Do list coworker T and I put together for Boss. I typically spend at least twenty minutes in the bathroom, at least every other day. In the mornings, I am so slow that I am now rushing out of the house, when at first I was getting to work fifteen minutes early — and I still wake up at 6:30 every morning.

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic
Quite honestly, I am waiting for the day when Boss complains that I am in the bathroom for too long. I know it’s coming. I already have my comeback ready — “I have Inflammatory Bowel Disease, okay?” — but still. They already complain when I miss meetings for doctor appointments (even though they have been made aware that I have an undiagnosed autoimmune disease, and therefore these appointments are critical).

These eight-hour days wreak havoc on my already aggravated body. Most days, I come home from work and lay in bed. More and more, I’m even spending my weekends in bed. My Mystery Autoimmune Disease is getting more aggressive, yes, but not being able to rest is really taking its toll. When I worked from home, I could sleep in if I didn’t sleep well the night before, and could take as many rest breaks as I needed to. I’m trying like hell, but I’m having a harder and harder time pushing through it every day. I consider leaving early every day, and the only thing that stops me from leaving early is knowing that I have no sick time to help me out.

I have so many doctor appointments that I am constantly trying to make up for the time missed at work. Thankfully, I got a break last week and this week, but I have more coming up, which I know are going to lead to even more. I’m seeing my gastroenterologist next Wednesday, and he is probably going to order another colonoscopy, since my rheumatologist wants to make sure my bleeding is caused by inflammation, and not something else. Then, as long as the colonoscopy comes back okay, my rheumatologist is starting me on treatment for Rheumatoid Arthritis… and I’m sure that means he’ll be seeing me quite often. I’m also concerned about the treatment itself. As much as I want to have a diagnosis and treatment plan, I have no idea how the treatment is going to affect me. Will I be able to work? I wouldn’t possibly be able to make up all of the time.

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomicFor now, I have to wait and see what happens, but I know I have some tough choices ahead. I’d like to look for a different job, but I don’t really want to do that until I know the details of my treatment; I can’t exactly start a new job and then suddenly only be able to come in three of the five days a week, for example, if my treatment includes physical therapy or something. Hell, I’m not sure I can keep my current job if I’ll be doing physical therapy, regular checkups, and different tests to make sure the medications aren’t affecting me badly. I’m sure that before I can even start treatment, I’ll probably have to have x-rays and stuff to check on the lining between my joints.

I want treatment, so badly. If it comes down to choosing between treatment and work, though, I’m going to be in trouble; I can’t afford treatment if I don’t work. I looked into disability a little and I can’t figure out how the process works, where to start. Throughout the last four years, I never once thought that I might have to be on disability… but here we are. Some days I feel like I should be on disability, while others I mentally kick myself for even thinking I need it.

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomicAnd while my mind runs through all of these things, I just have to keep reminding myself to wait and see, because that’s all I can do. Keep trying to push through each day, and wait and see.

One good thing is coming out of all this: I am learning that I’m pretty mentally strong (or at least pretty fucking stubborn). I just wish that I wasn’t simultaneously so mentally weak; I frequently break and just cry. There are so many other people who have it so much worse, that I feel like I shouldn’t be complaining; I should just make it through without having to push through.

As I fall asleep

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As soon as I start getting ready for bed, my mind kicks into overdrive. Tonight is no exception. My mind races, thinking of my illness, how much I miss Popi, the things I need and want to do, the condo I wish we could afford… Tonight, right now, I’m going to let all of these thoughts just flow. It’s not like I can sleep right now anyway; I’m in too much pain.

I’ll be honest: for a little while, I started feeling like I didn’t miss Popi enough. I didn’t like that I wasn’t missing him as much as I was a couple of months ago. And now, out of nowhere, I miss him with an ache I can’t cure. Everything reminds me of him, for some reason. It being almost winter reminds me of him, and I don’t know why.

I’m also frustrated by my health. This flareup has not been easy. It’s interesting, though, that since starting the treatment for the rash on my face, the random, all-over itchiniess has gone away, too. On top of being constipated most of the time and having horrible stomach aches, my joints are hurting again. Every time I move my legs a certain way. My knees hurt. This has been happening more and more lately, with both my knees and my hips. It feels as if the bones are grinding against one another, which scares me… I mean, how do I know how much damage has been caused to my joints by this disease, whatever it is? I’ve never had any xrays on anything other than my upper chest (from when my chiropractor tgought I had TOS). It’s so scary, not knowing… Like, what if this disease is doing severe damage to my body, little by little, and I don’t even know it?

Oh my god, I guess I’m getting kind of cynical tonight. My mood — on the inside — hasn’t been that great lately. I feel happy, but I keep having moments of depression or cynicism. It’s probably a combination of the time of year, missing Popi, and the stress of this stupid Mystery Autoimmune Disease, as well as some work-related stress.

Speaking of work, I’d better go to bed. I need to get up early so I can finish a website. I’m scheduled to have it done Tuesday at the latest, but I want it out of the way so that I can spend more time writing. “Sade” is getting really good; after all, I am entertaining myself first and foremost. I want to involve Corey in the whole mess somehow… I’m still brainstorming how.

Anyway. Thank you for listening to me ramble. Sorry for the typos — I’m doing this on my phone and it’s too much a pain in the ass to go back and fix them. Maybe I’ll do it later.

More than a patient

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The rheumatologist’s office called me this morning, and left me a message asking me to confirm my appointment with Dr. Memet tomorrow.

I called back and told them I was calling to confirm my appointment with Dr. Cooper, thinking there was some kind of mistake. The receptionist — I think her name was Holly — looked at my information and said that I was scheduled to see Dr. Memet.

“Well,” I said, confused, “Dr. Mongelluzzo referred me to see Dr. Cooper.”

Holly said something about it being their policy to schedule patients with specialists they’d previously seen; since I’d seen Dr. Memet about a year ago, they had automatically scheduled me with her.

“My doctor specifically said Dr. Cooper, though,” I said, repeating myself only because I didn’t understand why it mattered that I’d seen Dr. Memet a year ago.

“I heard you,” she said. “But it’s our policy.” She kept using the word “policy,” and while I get that it’s probably out of her control, it makes no freaking sense to me.

“Well, I’m not seeing Dr. Memet again, because when I did see her, she was not helpful,” I said firmly.

She repeated the whole policy thing, and said that Dr. Mongelluzzo would have to call and verify that he wanted me to see Dr. Cooper insead. She also canceled the appointment with Dr. Memet.

“Okay, fine,” I said, thanked her, and hung up. I called Dr. Mongelluzzo’s office next, explained the situation to the receptionist, and she said she’d call Dr. Cooper’s office and tell them I’m supposed to see Dr. Cooper. She also said I could see someone at Yale or UConn as an alternative.

This all happened within about fifteen minutes. By the time it was over, though, I was shot. My nerves were completely frayed. I just burst into tears. I was so close. I was going to see Dr. Cooper tomorrow morning, potentially start getting some answers, and now I’m not. Now I have to wait.

I know it sounds selfish, but when your body starts going crazy and you spend over three years being told, “Everything is normal,” and you finally get some test results that show more than just a borderline DS DNA and low B12 levels… You just start to feel like someone is playing with you.

My anxiety levels are so high right now, and have been throughout all of this, that simply having to wait to see someone — and having a screwup where you almost have to see another doctor who didn’t listen to you and treated you like a crazy person — finished me off completely.

I kept bursting into tears as soon as I had myself under control, and then something occurred to me: I am more than a patient. I’m a person. I don’t have to let the medical system drag me along. I am in control. I say who I see and who I don’t see. If it takes a little longer, fine, but I want to be the one calling (most of) the shots. I also don’t want to let this kill me. I don’t want to be this high-strung person who can’t handle an appointment cancellation. I want to be strong and take it all in stride.

I am more than a patient. I am a person. I am my own advocate.

♦

I wrote the first part of this about two hours ago. I feel so different now than I felt then, and than I felt this morning. I feel kind of silly, honestly, for crying this morning. For being so fragile. I kind of hate that part of me.

♦

I also kind of hate that all of my posts lately have been about my health woes. I feel like it’s all been whine, whine, whine. I haven’t been feeling too good, physically, though, so I guess it’s okay. I’ve been constipated for days*, had horrible stomach pains all day Tuesday from 4am on, and a little bit of joint pain (along with the dumb thing on my face, which seems to be all cleared up now, aside from a little itchiness).

I guess I still haven’t fully accepted that I’m sick and it’s okay to be sick: to complain about it, to acknowledge it.

So here it is: This is a flareup — the itching, the mysterious rash on my chin, the joint pain, the constipation. This is a flareup, and it sucks. It will probably get worse before it gets better. I guess I’d better get ready for the siege. (And seriously, knowing this just gets “The Royal We” stuck in my head.)

♦

I want to write about some plans, some goals, but it feels weird to throw it in with all of this melancholy, so I’m going to wait.

Everyone has been so awesome throughout the last couple of weeks: Mike, my mom, Sandy, the rest of my family, Blaine, Mary, Jess, Sanya, and a whole mess of my other internet friends — you know who you are — have been cheering me on throughout all of this. I can’t forget everyone who’s been cheering me on throughout my novel-in-progress, either. I feel like I’ve found my place. I have an awesome circle of support and love offline, but I’ve found the same thing online, and it really just baffles me. It’s so wonderful.

♦

Once again, I’ve managed to write a completely all-over-the-place post, but fuck it, I’m hitting Publish.

*I just drank some coffee with a laxative, though, so that double whammy should totally fix me up. I hope, anyway. The laxative I took last night helped a little, but not much. Whatever Mystery Autoimmune Disease I have is totally fucking with my GI system. I bought some fresh broccoli and cauliflower today to snack on (along with some baby carrots) for the next few days, so hopefully that will help.

Speaking of taking care of myself, I also bought a B12 supplement. I’m thinking the rheumatologist — whenever I get to see her — will start me on shots again, but until then I have a bottle of fifty vitamins. Interestingly enough, the bottle says B12 helps with fatigue. I feel kind of silly saying this — because it seems so obvious — but I wonder if my low B12 is why I’m always so freaking tired. (Thank you, Mystery Autoimmune Disease — thank you.)

It's Monday

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I am pretty sure there isn’t a single person who had a good day today. And if you did, don’t talk to me. (;

I started off the day tired as fuck, but what else is new? I dragged my ass to my aunt’s for work and got started. Two major things ruined the first half of my day: my laptop crashing over and over (hello, blue screen of death), and GoDaddy* being the worst host ever (after Yahoo).

Then Mike called me with an update on the whole bank fucking him over situation. And when I say they fucked him over, they FUCKED him over. Not only did they lose his check, but they also proceeded to freeze his account and BLACKLIST HIS NAME ON THE CREDIT BUREAU, after allowing him to withdraw money from a check that they never cashed. They didn’t even notify him of any of this; he found out a week later when his debit card suddenly stopped working. One of their associates at the branch we use treated him like shit when he went in to try to rectify the situation.

Thanks, Webster.

Flash forward to today. He finally got a reissued check and went to go cash it because he wants to fix the(ir) mistake. He called and made an appointment with the branch’s manager, Ruth, and then showed up on time to meet with her. The associates there told him no Ruth existed, and then proceeded to tell him that the manager of the corporate branch doesn’t exist, either. I’ve heard the guy’s voicemail greeting; he most certainly does exist.

I left work early so we could try to cash the check at another bank, but they wouldn’t. We thought they were affiliated with the bank the company he works for uses, but they aren’t, so we ended up just depositing it in my Webster account. He has to wait for it to clear, but at least he’s on his way to getting it taken care of. The poor guy just wants to fix his standing with the bank, and they’re making it very difficult for him.

We did a little shopping**, then went to the pharmacy to try to pick up my prescription again***. My PA-C was supposed to fax it in when I saw her on Tuesday, but either she forgot, or the fax got lost, so when I tried to pick it up Friday, I couldn’t. I called my doctor’s office this morning, and the receptionist said they had definitely faxed it over Tuesday and that she would have Pam call or fax it in again.

Well… No prescription. I wouldn’t mind, but I’d rather buy the prescription than buy only a fifteen count for almost $20. And since I have post-nasal drip, I’m getting nervous that it might go into my ears or chest, and I’ll end up with yet another damn sinus infection. I’m going to call again in the morning, and see if I can pick up the prescription slip and drop it off myself, because this is getting ridiculous. Either my PA-C is getting forgetful — which isn’t like her since she is usually on top of things — or my pharmacy is losing the prescription over and over (which is entirely likely, considering they’ve messed up my prescription pretty badly before).

Today’s only redeeming qualities were having dinner with Mike at the mall, buying pretty things at Victoria’s Secret**, watching football as I write this, and the tea I’m drinking now.

Gotta see the positive, you know.

How was your day?

*I use Host Gator, but most of my clients use GoDaddy (or Network Solutions, which is just as bad in my opinion).

**New GIRLS ONLY post coming soon!

***I owe you guys a post on my doctor’s appointment last week. Sigh. My PA-C prescribed me Claritin-D, because I have post-nasal drip — as usual — and a prescription would be cheaper than buying it over the counter, since I only have a copay.

Why my life is better than BlogHer… except not

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The people have asked for a blog update, so who am I to deny her them?

I have officially survived my first two weeks of being full-time self-employed. The reason I have completely forgotten about abstained from updating my blog is that I’ve been leaving my laptop at my aunt’s, and during the day I don’t have enough time to write anything. I actually like this. The days go by fast, and I always feel good and productive when I leave.

There’s also a lot of drama going on, none of which I can write about, because as much as it pisses me off, it’s not my drama to tell. I would move the world for Mike, but when I can’t, it makes me crazy.

Thursday night I went to see Ramona and Beezus with my mom and sister. It was really, really, really cute. When I was in elementary school, I read most of the Beverly Cleary books about Ramona. She is one of my all-time favorite children’s book characters. I can’t wait until I have a little girl — or until my goddaughter Kaylene is old enough — so that I can read her the Ramona books. It was a nice night out with Mom and Lauren, and one of very few left, since Lauren is going away to school… on my birthday. I’m honestly really sad about my little sister leaving the nest, even if it’s not really permanent. I’ve spent the last eighteen years seeing her almost every day. She’s my best friend*.

But you can’t change anything**. You can only adapt.

It’s weird when life is half good and half crazy-in-a-bad-way. You spend all of your time alternating between grinning like the Joker and feeling ready to hire a hit man on someone, so you end up looking completely insane.

I did, however, manage to get away from it all for a few hours last night. I went to my watering hole with my cousin Kate, and we drank vodka collinses and sang karaoke until last call. Our karaoke guy called me “badass” after my last song, and this guy kept hitting on me, even though I kept reminding him that he’d met my boyfriend, and all of my friends at the bar kept talking about my boyfriend in front of him. Like Kate said, some guys never give up, even when it’s hopeless. It wouldn’t have been so annoying if the guy hadn’t inserted himself into every conversation and smoke break (even though he doesn’t smoke). Poor Mike’s little hottie is in high demand; a couple of weeks ago, a guy asked me out for coffee as I was leaving Barnes and Noble. It always amuses me when guys hit on me. I like the way I look, but I’m so used to ignoring the male species with my gaga eyes on Mike, that when I get hit on, I am always surprised.

Anyway, to make this post even longer and more ADHD, I’m going to be participating in #superbyseptember, a weight loss challenge started by Karen and brought to my attention by my friend Brooke. I just have to find a scale in my house and weigh myself, something I’m not exactly excited about doing. At this point, the cheeseburger baby now looks like I am carrying a real human baby and am somewhere in my second trimester. Since I have my mom’s side of the family’s curse — wherein all extra weight goes to our stomachs and asses — the extra twenty or so pounds I’ve gained from Seroquel and have continued to gain after quitting it from a massive intake of fast food and little to no exercise has indeed made me look like I’m now picking out clothes for a baby whom I now know the sex of. My mom is the only person who insists that I don’t look pregnant. Thank you for your dishonesty, Mom, but the mirror tells the truth, and so does everyone else who comes into contact with me and my baby bump.

Basically, I just have to weigh myself sometime this weekend — and fuck am I afraid to see; last time I weighed myself, I was 17lbs over my normal weight, which I’m sure has increased — and start getting fit. I’ve been saving money for a bike for some time now, so I think I’ll be buying it and a bike rack maybe this week. I’ll also need a scale in my house, since we don’t have one (though Noni has one downstairs). I want to stop ignoring the fact that I’ve gained so much weight and put it right in front of my face, where I can’t ignore it. A quick BMI check says that I’m just on the verge of being overweight — and that’s only using the weight I was last weighed at. I used to wonder how anyone overweight could let it happen, and now I see that it just happens. There are so many factors, that you can’t just pinpoint one thing. Seroquel is the biggest factor, but so is the fact that I stopped walking around so much and spend most of my time in front of the computer these days***.

So I am determined to lose some kind of weight this month using this challenge. Since I have a track record of losing weight unnecessarily, I’m not even sure what a healthy goal is for the month. I’m just going to stop eating fast food so much, ride my bike around some trails a few times a week, and go for a twenty minute walk every day, even if I just walk around the mall.

I know I’ve attempted to give up fast food before, and I failed horribly at it, but I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to give it up completely, though, because that’s apparently how I cave. I’m going to try to eat it only once a week, and try to make healthier choices (like Taco Bell instead of Burger King****).

I’m feeling kind of dubious about this, but I want to at least try it. If I fail, at least I tried, right?

PS: I severely need to go get my eye prescription updated. Someone please remind me to call the Walmart eye center place thingy on Monday so that I can start seeing the computer screen — and everything on the road — again.

*Yeah, Mike and Sandy and my cat count, but Lauren and I have tons of history and inside jokes that can’t be beat by some hot guy, funny girl, and pretty cat.

**Unless we’re talking underwear.

***Still, I mostly blame Seroquel, because I was pretty lazy before I started taking it and would probably still weigh around 118lbs if I hadn’t started.

****Is Taco Bell healthier? It seems healthier. I must research this.