dyspatient has left the building

Done.  Done with the old job.  I wanted to leave in a blaze of triumphal glory.  Unfortunately, I left as I so often do.  Happy to be going, but limping along in pain to my car.  This time it was the abdomen.  I don’t whether to attribute it to the unwanted and ultimately poorly executed lunch date with my now ex-boss or the over-reaching over my desk to drop something in the recycling bin (employee saw me doing this and said “woah, hey, let me…no really, you’re going to hurt yourself” and yes, he may have been right).  It wasn’t a usual stomach/GI pain for me, so it may well have been the over reaching.  This is a problem for me.  I really really need to learn to stop doing it because with increasing frequency, I am hurting myself by bending this way and stretching that.  My mantra is “just because your body WILL go that way doesn’t mean it SHOULD”.  I had some inkling about this even when I was younger and healthier.  I once passed out at the start of a final exam as an undergrad after the test packet slid off my desk and under the seat in front of me.  It was one of those stadium seating style classrooms.  I leaned wayyyyyy down and forward and extended my Gumby arm under the seat in front of me, almost reaching it….oh just a little more and then….just as my hand closed on it, something went “ping” in my shoulder.  Oh dear.  I sat upright.  Oh no, oh, that wasn’t good.  I put my head down on the desk.  I tucked my legs up under me in the seat.  Finally, knowing that I was indeed going to pass out now, I made my way down the stairs (yeah I’m a fucking idiot), hugging the wall, to the front of the room, told the professor and her TA that I was sick and going in to the hall to pass out, which I then did but only after laying on the hall floor retching for a few minutes.  My passing out is never those delicate little lady faints.  Oh no.  It’s all sweaty and retchy and gassy (it’s like my intestines just say “EVACUATE!”).  Profanity laden prayers are not uncommon.  Even after I’m out,  I don’t have the decency to lay there like a good swooner, arm draped dramatically just waiting for a brocade couch to complete the scene.  No, I go stiff (“I nearly had to break your damned legs to get you off the toilet” my ex husband told me after finding me passed out in our little closet sized bathroom), my eyes roll up (“and you’ve got BIG EYES” a friend who witnessed this once told me), and I sometimes convulse a little.

While rationally, I know over reaching is a bad idea, I have not yet LEARNED it.  And so yesterday, I slunk out of work and to my super hot car, parked in the couple of inches of shade and waited for the AC to kick in before driving myself home to collapse on the couch.  Sort of an anti-climactic end to a rotten chapter of my life.

But it is done.  I am home for the heatwave, contemplating a mall trip, expecting lots of couch time and forced hydration – I really just cannot muster the thirst to drink my requisite volume of fluids – and looking forward to a massage on Monday, a visit with a friend, and a mani/pedi day (never had a pedicure before…getting my feet ready for open toe shoes to help with what I call “lobster foot”, more on that later).

For all of my chronic friends in the heatwave zone of the US (I believe right now that’s most of the 48 contiguous states), stay cool. Remember that you really don’t have to prove anything, and moreover, anything you think you might be proving by dashing around in a heatwave is likely to be undone by the passing out/feeling like pounded poop that will ensue after.

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  1. queenofoptimism

     /  July 7, 2012

    Chapter closed. Good riddance. This is a superstar post – full of honesty and reminders to all of us who push the limits of what we can do without further damage. I appreciate your description of passing out – I hope the new diagnosis answers some of those questions – does it possibly?

    I have so much care and hope for you as you enter what has to be a better working climate. Proud of you for taking the leap – believing in yourself, mustering up the self-esteem that job seeking takes, and leaving a toxic environment that was no fault of your own. Some of us struggle with “but it’s not me – they are doing this to me. I should be able to keep my job and be happy…”. Yay, Dyspatient. I’m so excited to follow you into this next chapter and wish you all the best, always. ❤

    • How did i miss this comment?

      Gosh I hope it’s better. The “it’s not me” thing is a tough one. How are you doing? I’ve been thinking of you.

  2. Good luck! Oooh my gosh sooo jealous of the massage, mani/pedi. So great for stress relief. Used to be my absolute favourite treat/way to relax. Drooool.

    • I am looking forward to it, greatly. I’m also really looking forward to some cooler shoes. Hot feet! Yowch.


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