Monday was a rough day. I was still exhausted from my day in the ER. But I couldn't just lie in bed because I had the handyman here all day working on my living room windows. He did a nice job, neat and efficient and he was out of here as fast as he could. I appreciated that.
I spent a lot of the day fielding calls from the hospital and making follow up appointments. I appreciate the quality of care I've received but I admit I'm overwhelmed by the next steps. Monday I shall bounce between my dentist's office and the hospital to consult with a urologist about my kidney stone. Then next Friday afternoon I follow up with my doctor to talk about my condition -- especially the MRI the hospital recommends to rule out abnormalities on my pancreas.
Tuesday I cried at work. I've been employed full time since I was 17 years old and I've never before cried in a professional situation.* Now that my career is coming to end, I dissolved. It was during a conference call, so at least I was weepy in the privacy of my own home, but my coworkers could hear it my voice.
My dream project -- the one I've been arguing to do for months -- has finally kicked off. Now, when I'm a lame duck. Now, when I don't time to do the quality of work I want to do. Now, when I'm fucking medicated! The client not only wants it done in a truncated time frame, they want it presented in a new template I've never used before. I cannot concentrate on both content and templating in this time frame, not when codeine complicates the equation. So I fell apart.
I am not proud of this.
Rita, our newest team member, dove right in. "I've got you, Girlie!" she kept saying. "You're fine. I've got you!"
And she did. I did the writing, she did the formatting. And even though I won't be able to present it to the client myself, she promises, "I'll do you proud."
I'm so glad Rita gets me. I do still care. Because here's the thing: my client's corporate office is unhappy with the advertising agency I work for. My day-to-day clients have never had a single complaint about me. I know and understand their concerns and appreciate that they trust me to help solve them.
I know, especially when you read things like the Trump complaint in NYC, it's easy to be jaded about corporate America. But my clients are honest and have integrity, and as long as they're paying me, I won't just "phone it in."
Will September 30 be my last day? I don't know. Our contract runs through November 30, but layoffs could happen with any pay period between now and then.
And I got answers! Originally I went to the ER with what my doctor suspected was diverticulitis. In addition to the crippling abdominal pain (which is the kidney stone), I have been battling gastrointestinal trouble. Months of it. No appetite. Constipation one day, diarrhea the next. After reviewing my test results, the hospital has diagnosed me with epiploic appendagitis. I'm learning what it means. Maybe someday I'll learn how to pronounce it!
Also, my gall bladder and pancreas look "unremarkable." This is a relief!
But there's still baseball. Anthony Rizzo (and the Yankees) have clinched a playoff berth and the Cubs have won 7 of their last 10. I feel sorry for people who don't love baseball. And cats. And books. Baseball, cats and books have gotten me through this so far.
And blog friends. Thank you for the kind messages. I have read them and I appreciate them enormously.
*I did once vomit from stress. That was in 1991 or 92. But that was in the privacy of the ladies' room and I'm not sure everyone knew about it. Ah, advertising! There are things I will not miss.