I can think of a lot to post about - what with all the Republican shenanigans and the inability of people with money to pay their taxes correctly - and Wells Fargo almost got away with having an executive retreat in Vegas - and Micheal Phelps isn't allowed to make a mistake - oh the list goes on and on ...
But somewhere through the middle of any post I write I just drift away. My research isn't as good as I strive for, I start to sound whiny or mean spirited - or both.
It has become (literally) painfully apparent that I can't work the way I always have. I stopped the second job at the "big ass retail giant" when I tore the tendons fully expecting to go back. When the Doctor told me the tendons were part of a larger problem I nodded a lot but never really let it sink in. I always move forward, I always work, I always take care of everything.
During the whole first cast, second cast, giant boot phase I plodded along - schlep, drag, go down to the basement office on my ample butt. I developed ingenious ways of carrying things and moving heavy stacks of paperwork on to my desk.
Starting a couple of years ago it became necessary to work a second job; sky rocketing insurance costs coupled with devoted clients going out of business or being gobbled up by offshore companies put a real dent in revenue. I didn't mind the second jobs - working from home can be isolating and I am a social creature.
Unfortunately second jobs with flexible schedules are usually in the retail sector and that means lots of time on my feet. And my feet appear to fail me now.
So I started looking for a full time job - charming economy to be doing it in but I was hopeful and I got positive feedback from all the agencies I signed up with. I have a solid set of skills, I score high on all the tests, I have experience. Trouble was that larger problem the Doctor mentioned back in September was not going to be ignored.
I bought the most un-orthopedic looking pair of sensible shoes I could find. I was lucky in that my good interview suit has long wide legs and they disguised the days when the foot dragged. I practiced getting around without the cane. It may be illegal to discriminate against older workers and disabled workers but it is also reality. Before the ankle injury I was often told I was "over qualified" which is HR speak for old. Imagine clunking in there on a cane! It's not fair that this is a nano second first impression sound bite world - but it is.
On one interview the exuberant interviewer wanted to take me on a tour of the offices. There were winding spirial staircases everywhere! She ran up and down them in her 3 inch heels while I bit a hole into my lower lip trying to keep up. When I got home from that interview my ankle was swollen outside the shoe and I couldn't straighten up. There's a good chance the other tendons are tearing. And the whole tilting to my right to take pressure off is probably tearing the already torn muscles around my hip - that's from a previous "this is a chronic problem" that I willed myself to overcome. I can't be sure what's happening since I lost my health insurance as of December 1 and haven't been back to the doctor since.
I dated this career military guy who used to tell his soldiers that he wished they had my stamina and determination. "She eats bullets for breakfast and spits out the casings" he said. And to a very, very large degree that is who I am - to others and more importantly to myself.
So the disability package came yesterday. It weighs a ton and has pages and pages of instructions and a mile long list of required documentation. I opened it, stared at it and then threw it across the room. Stupid childish move - I just have to go pick it all up.
I feel like I'm free falling through space while paralyzed ...
My photography is keeping me sane - through the lens I can still compose scenes that come out the way I want them too. I'm so glad I started the photo blog.
I am going to try to start the forms today. That's the best I can promise myself.
I'll let you know how it's going.