Getting my life back

There is more out there waiting…

So, the bulk of the Project From Hell is done, and the remaining pieces are mapped out to be completed in the coming weeks. So, that drama is behind me, more or less. I’m still exhausted — came home from work last night and crawled into bed to sleep for 3 hours… then had to go to bed after eating dinner, watching a movie and running out of steam. My exhaustion wasn’t just work-related. I also had a doctor’s appointment to follow up on some tests I had done over the past months.

Last spring/summer — about a year ago — I had some weird pain that wasn’t going away, so I visited my doctor and they ran some tests. They did some scanning and bloodwork, and they ruled out the cancer they thought had started up with me. The weekend I spent between being told “well it might be cancer”, having my blood taken and then getting results back the following Monday/Tuesday was probably the longest weekend I’ve had in a long time, and as a result of the existential crisis I plunged into, a lot of my outlook about life and work has shifted.

There’s nothing like lying awake in bed at all hours, staring at the ceiling, wondering if the life you’ve led has really been the kind of life you wanted to lead.

Of course, by the middle of the next week, my test results were back, and there was no sign of cancer, but still… Pondering that whole scenario — and wondering if it would even make sense for me to pursue mainstream treatment options at all — and wondering if maybe it would be better to not fight it but deal with it and check out with my own dignity intact (we’re all gonna die sometime, after all) — well, it changed a lot for me.

All of a sudden, I was keenly aware that I am in fact pushing 50, that life isn’t going to go on forever, and I have this one chance to do the things I feel I’m supposed to do… and what the f*ck am I doing?

All of a sudden, the chasing after this-that-and-the-other-thing made a lot less sense, and I decided to shift my attention away from climbing to the top of the corporate heap… and towards just being happy. All of a sudden, the track that I was on made a lot less sense and seemed like it just wasn’t delivering the goods I was looking for. All of a sudden, the things that really matter most to me — keeping this blog going, having a decent marriage, enjoying the house I’ve worked so hard for, and finding things that bring me actual bona-fide enjoyment — those things started to come front and center.

Of course, it didn’t bode well at work. I mean, people there are crazy. Seriously. They seem to use work as a drug to dull their pain — when they’re not drinking heavily or sleeping around or chasing some exotic high that makes them the envy of their professional peers. The Folks In Charge (FICs) are power-tripping yahoos who run around high-fiving each other like they’ve scoring a couple of overtime goals in a hotly contested, tied Olympic ice hockey game.

Dude – seriously? Your kids are the competitive athletes, not you.

Anyway, I guess the organizational changes have thrown middle management into a tizzy, because they’ve all behaving badly. And the worse they act, the more the pressure the folks in the trenches to PERFORM, the more they play their power games where only certain people get certain information, the less engaged I am, the less inclined to become engaged I am, and the more I look beyond the hallowed (and incredibly boring — would a little non-corporate, non-brand-specific artwork kill you?) halls of the WorkPlace for satisfaction and meaning.

Which is probably just as well. Because my devotion to my Work in the first year of my current job was not very balanced and probably not entirely sane. Ask my spouse; they can attest.

Anyway, back to the present…Yesterday, I had a doctor’s appointment to follow up on some testing that was done as a follow-up to last year. I was supposed to go in for testing, six months ago, but the job change threw me off, and I just didn’t go. I also didn’t feel like dealing with doctors and diagnostics and what-not — even if they were worried about me having something serious wrong with me. The change of commute was bad enough, and I figured that if I went in for testing before I was adjusted to the commute and my system had calmed down, they were going to see a bunch of weird spikes in my levels and readings that had more to do with my relatively normal system responding to unusual circumstances, instead of an unusual system operating in relatively normal circumstances.

So, I showed up at the doctor and met with the physicians’ assistant, who is capable and personable and has been more helpful to me than the doctor, proper. We had some good conversations, until we got into the testing talk and I got the lecture about not coming in earlier when they wanted me to, and they started talking about doing more testing. I did consent to getting some more imaging done, which was fine. But when we started talking about the more invasive procedures, I had to stand my ground and dig my heels in.

No way was I going to submit to what they wanted me to do. The last time I had it done, I felt like crap for days after. And I also started seeing articles about false positives and permanent cell damage from those sorts of diagnostics. And I told the PA that I’d done my research and if they wanted to know such-and-such about me, they were going to need to find another way to do it.

And the PA gives me a lecture about how they care for people who are seriously ill with what they would be screening me for, and they don’t have any other viable options available (at their facility), so that’s the best they can do. But it’s better than nothing. Or so they said.

I told them that there had to be a better way to screen for that sort of stuff, and I’d been doing some research and had found some new technologies that were looking promising — and I’d be going down that route, rather than helping their facility recoup their investment on that certain kind of imaging technology.

The PA could at least hear me. It wasn’t like I was afraid to have testing done. That’s not it at all. It’s the kind of testing that they use and make available. It’s the sub-human, degrading, painful, potentially health-damaging approach they take, all the while saying, “It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we have right now.” Bullsh*t. It’s the only set of technology eggs they’ve put in their diagnostic basket, and they’re going to push that “solution” until it finally pays for itself.

Please. As though the scientific research from nearly 100 years that has warned consistently about this certain type of diagnostics didn’t matter… and would in fact save me. Again. Please.

Again, at least the PA could understand where I was coming from, and they didn’t keep pushing me. But they gave me this long, sad look — like they expected me to come down with this condition, and they expected to see me back with them in a matter of years, as I slowly (or quickly) died from this dread disease.

Yeah, okay, whatever. I’ve heard too many stories about “deathly ill” patients outliving their doctors, to lose much sleep over it. Plus, my triglycerides are a whopping 44, my HDL (good) cholesterol is at 85 — way over the 40-60 desired range, and my LDL (bad) cholesterol is 84, which is in the middle of the desired 40-130 range. Overall, my cholesterol is 178, which pleases me. And aside from a couple of red flags about vitamin deficiencies which can be supplemented, my bloodwork looks like it belongs to someone half my age. So there. I’m sure folks will pardon me if I don’t panic 😉

It’s not like I am courting my own demise, but of all the things that can and may “get me”, cancer contracted from their diagnostics is not going to be it. I’m not losing any sleep over this, now that my bloodwork is back and looking good.

Quite the contrary — if anything, the exchange (on top of the past three weeks of unmitigated crunch-time) put me to sleep. I hate feeling like I have to fight with my healthcare provider to just answer basic questions, and it really took a lot out of me. It was all I could do, to keep focused the rest of the day and get my work done. My afternoon was slow and deliberate, then I drove home to crawl into bed and pass out for three hours.

So, now it’s Saturday. The work week is done, I have some chores to do, the weather is beautiful, and I am presented with a number of choices about what to do with myself. I need to get out of this house, for sure — I’ve been stewing in my work frustrations all morning, looking around at different opportunities online, and giving thought to what I’d like to do with myself. I’ve toyed with the idea of going out for a walk in the woods, but I’ve been so bent out of shape about my work situation, that I didn’t relish the thought of spending my time in the woods obsessing about my job, which I would have.

So, I’ve stayed inside and pondered what I want to do, as well as what I can do. I have a hefty mortgage to deal with, so I can’t just take any old thing. And like I’ve been saying, there are things that I’ve been doing for years and years that are no longer easy and enjoyable for me. So much has become a chore, so I’ve been spending some time thinking about what would make me really happy — what would get my life back.

I once worked with someone who believed that we are all working to earn/purchase our freedom. They believed that we come into the world beholden to the world around us, and we have to spend our lives earning our freedom. They did not believe that it came for free, but that it was a struggle for each and everyone of us to get free. Not everyone does, not everyone can. We all do it to the best of our ability and belief. But that was what they believed that we are doing on this earth.

I can’t say that I agree or disagree. I do see some logic to that outlook, and it has certainly seemed to be true for me.

Whatever the facts of the matter, the bottom line is that nobody but me can secure my own happiness and fulfillment. That is my responsibility, and I take it on willingly. Now, in that spirit, I’m going to get on with my day and get out in this beautiful weather. I may obsess over my job situation while I’m walking in the woods, or I may not. But I won’t know till I step out and go out to find out.

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Author: brokenbrilliant

I am a long-term multiple (mild) Traumatic Brain Injury (mTBI or TBI) survivor who experienced assaults, falls, car accidents, sports-related injuries in the 1960s, '70s, '80s, and '90s. My last mild TBI was in 2004, but it was definitely the worst of the lot. I never received medical treatment for my injuries, some of which were sports injuries (and you have to get back in the game!), but I have been living very successfully with cognitive/behavioral (social, emotional, functional) symptoms and complications since I was a young kid. I’ve done it so well, in fact, that virtually nobody knows that I sustained those injuries… and the folks who do know, haven’t fully realized just how it’s impacted my life. It has impacted my life, however. In serious and debilitating ways. I’m coming out from behind the shields I’ve put up, in hopes of successfully addressing my own (invisible) challenges and helping others to see that sustaining a TBI is not the end of the world, and they can, in fact, live happy, fulfilled, productive lives in spite of it all.

4 thoughts on “Getting my life back”

  1. I hope you enjoyed the walk and managed to leave work at the door. Obsessing over it at home won’t help and it takes you away from enjoying the weekend. Be present where you are. =) Set some time aside to think, not worry, about work. Then, leave it and focus on what you’re doing. I know it may sound weird. Mindfulness really helps.

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