So.
SO.
I am very irate. Today is just not my day, really. It hasn't been my week to be honest, or my year, or anything really.
A bit of background story here - as most of you know last summer I was diagnosed. It's been a battle, one lung infection in the fall that sent me for a hospital stay, one reaction to MTX that sent me for another hospital stay, and you all know how bad in general this disease sucks.
Regardless, I scraped myself off the sidewalk and tried again. Here we go, round two. I started going back to work, feeling a bit better, I wanted to make myself feel better so I planted a garden this year and did things I don't normally do.
Then this summer, doodoo really hit the fan when I lost one of my furkids, Freeman on June 4. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, while I was still mourning and moping for Freeman my other greyhound gets sick... With the same thing. I hate cancer. So, on August 27th we lost our second and last furdog Kowalla also to cancer in a different spot. Greyhound life spans are about 12-14 years, 10-12 years on the low scale.. Freeman was barely 8, and Kowalla was 7.
You could imagine at this point what my mental state is like.
I got really angry, really upset and I spent all summer bawling my eyes out. I think my eyes are permanently purple around the edges now. I feel like nothing is going my way, and I have fought tooth and nail for this. I didn't just roll over and give up, it didn't matter what happen I kept going, probably driving myself crazy at points but I kept going.
A job sort of fell into my lap; not the kind of job I would ever consider doing before but I got it so I will do it. It's essentially selling RESPs (education funds), I do it from home and then I go to people's houses and explain the plan with them, etc. On average, I think I will need to visit about 4 families per week. I honestly didn't think this was going to be that bad. The commission is good, so it would be a good financial help.
Well.
My doctor just about thinks I've essentially signed my own death certificate. He totally lost it, thinks I am nuts for wanting to go into other people's houses and "expose" myself. My god, I visit friends and family now? He's the one always saying he wants me to live a regular life. I didn't think it was going to be TOO big of a deal; but he seems to think I am crazy.
God it's not like I'm going to lick the people or sleep in their beds with them. I'm going to sit at their kitchen table and I won't even be touching them. Might exchange some paper/pens. I can't see how it's any more dangerous than going to a mall, or even going to the hospital or all those other things I do where there is people.
I really thought it was going to be "the answer" and that while I'll probably work my guts out between working at the salon, all the volunteer crap I do, running a house and now selling RESPs, I thought it might make me feel better. A tired, successful person is still a happy person.
Anyway.. I just thought I would rant. I've just about had it; my patience and everything else is running thin. I screamed at my husband because he was fumbling with stuff on the counter making noise and it annoyed me. Scared the pants off him, nearly. I am having a hard time focusing, I'm never really "with it" and I'm trying to train for the exam I have to write for my new job and nothing is sinking in... I can't concentrate... Grrr
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