Hello all. I normally try to be positive (or at least be funny in my sarcasm), but I am quickly reaching the end of my rope. I would not normally vent on-line, but the overall positivity of this forum makes me think that any comments I receive may be positive suggestions, or at least not venomous flaming. I will try my best to keep this civil, but if the benevolent Mod overlords decide that this thread needs to be removed, so be it. I shall accept the ramifications with grace.
In short, the last year has been a study in the concept of Murphy's Law. For those not familiar with this governing rule of the universe, it basically states that "Whatever can go wrong will, at the worst possible time." As a paramedic, I always viewed it as job security- until it hit home with a vengeance.
To keep it short, it started thus: Last January, my beloved fiancé had to have major surgery for a chronic medical condition. Her healing was complicated and protracted, and cynical though I am I cannot stand to see her in pain. She has since gotten better (Finally!), but the scars remain on her body and consciousness.
Then, someone very close to me died. My grandmother, if you are curious. She was an RN for many years and actually helped deliver me, and was a large part of my inspiration for getting into medicine. Most of her career was in oncology, so she knew what was coming when she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Despite that, she remained her regular positive self, mowing an acre of land with a push mower despite being 88 and going through a truly vile chemo regimen. When she finally passed, we all thought it was for the best- after all, everything that needed to be said was said, and there were no regrets. A "Good Death", befitting a woman originally from Sparta. Then I found out that she died not of the cancer, but of malpractice. I was beyond livid. "Homicidal" might be a better word. But, for the fact that she loved that hospital (she died where she worked for 40 years and volunteered for another 23), no legal action was pressed.
The day after the funeral, icy streets cost me my beloved '94 Blazer. Another driver plowed into it, cracking the radiator and slamming it into a median, which snapped the back axle. It was my first car with many fond memories attached, but it was beyond repair. Thankfully, I was unhurt. Sad though it made me to abandon ol' Dirty Gerty, I decided to finally use some of my savings and get a nice newer vehicle. I got a used 2012 Jeep Liberty, which I do love. The payments have caused me some grief, for reasons you will see later.
Next, my aunt (the aforementioned grandmother's daughter and my father's sister) was diagnosed with the same form of cancer. In her case, it was even more aggressive. Due to the relatively rare nature of the disease and it's usual preference for males, we decided to have blood testing done for genetic markers. It was revealed that my grandmother, my aunt, my father, and myself all carry an abnormal gene that has been shown to have a correlation to developing pancreatic cancer. My still-burning rage turned to stark, bowel-loosening terror. Not only is it a poor prognosis once confirmed (80% treated mortality), it is an excruciatingly painful way to die. My aunt is still alive, but we are all aware of what is coming. She has already picked out the songs she wants me to sing at her funeral.
Fast forward to December. New Years Eve, in fact. My spirits were light; get home from work, relax, have a drink, and toast the end of a terrible year. Not much can go wrong in 24 hours, right? Wrong. I walked into work at my full-time job (a private ambulance company), and had just enough time to log in here to discover that I had won my first PIF (Xillion, you have no idea how much that meant to me, given the circumstances) when I was called into my supervisor's office. For perspective, the company had three owners, two of whom were paramedics and pretty decent guys. The third, the CFO, had no experience in the field, and no conscience to boot. To describe him as "reptilian" would be an insult to my pet skink. To spare the details, after two years of faithful service (including tasks that were so far outside my job description I should have reported it to OSHA), I was fired because a nurse disliked my asking pertinent questions. I had never been fired before, and despite my cynicism I had grown to trust these guys. My mistake. I went home and decompressed with an hour-long shave. I'm surprised I didn't even nick myself. I then proceeded to carpet-bomb other employers with applications, and I got a bite two days later. A friend set me up with a rival company (in a location they bought out from under my former employers, to my relish) with a part-time job. I'm there right now.
I'm now barely holding on, by fingernails and sheer cussedness. I like the company I work for now, but they can only give me part-time hours at a location 60 miles from home. I spend 48 hours straight there, but only get paid for 20. Such is the nature of on-call pay. While I am grateful for helping me in my time of need, the fact is that I cannot survive on this. Thankfully I had a fair amount of savings when I got fired, but monthly expenses as well as recertification fees are quickly dwindling it to a pittance. I figure I can last another month before I start going hungry or having my lights turned off. I have some other applications in the wind, and though it hurts me to leave a company who saved me in my time of need, I have to eat.
On top of that, my other job (paramedic with a small rural fire department) got its hours halved by order of the city council. I have that job mainly for resume-building and fun, but the paychecks definitely helped. Now, not so much. I'm sticking with them, since loyalty means a great deal to me, but it's sure getting tight. As an unforeseen side effect, this shut my various AD's down BUT GOOD. Cold comfort, but every cloud has a silver lining, right?
To anyone who has taken the time to read this novel of lamentations, thank you. This place has provided a welcome oasis of cheer and civility in my despair, and for that I am forever grateful. I have thought long about the first thing I want to do when my finances get better; a new razor, a new tattoo? Now I know. Expect a donation from a grateful soul. I was lost in the wilderness, but a rodent and a razor has led me back to the light. Thank you. Thank you all.
In short, the last year has been a study in the concept of Murphy's Law. For those not familiar with this governing rule of the universe, it basically states that "Whatever can go wrong will, at the worst possible time." As a paramedic, I always viewed it as job security- until it hit home with a vengeance.
To keep it short, it started thus: Last January, my beloved fiancé had to have major surgery for a chronic medical condition. Her healing was complicated and protracted, and cynical though I am I cannot stand to see her in pain. She has since gotten better (Finally!), but the scars remain on her body and consciousness.
Then, someone very close to me died. My grandmother, if you are curious. She was an RN for many years and actually helped deliver me, and was a large part of my inspiration for getting into medicine. Most of her career was in oncology, so she knew what was coming when she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Despite that, she remained her regular positive self, mowing an acre of land with a push mower despite being 88 and going through a truly vile chemo regimen. When she finally passed, we all thought it was for the best- after all, everything that needed to be said was said, and there were no regrets. A "Good Death", befitting a woman originally from Sparta. Then I found out that she died not of the cancer, but of malpractice. I was beyond livid. "Homicidal" might be a better word. But, for the fact that she loved that hospital (she died where she worked for 40 years and volunteered for another 23), no legal action was pressed.
The day after the funeral, icy streets cost me my beloved '94 Blazer. Another driver plowed into it, cracking the radiator and slamming it into a median, which snapped the back axle. It was my first car with many fond memories attached, but it was beyond repair. Thankfully, I was unhurt. Sad though it made me to abandon ol' Dirty Gerty, I decided to finally use some of my savings and get a nice newer vehicle. I got a used 2012 Jeep Liberty, which I do love. The payments have caused me some grief, for reasons you will see later.
Next, my aunt (the aforementioned grandmother's daughter and my father's sister) was diagnosed with the same form of cancer. In her case, it was even more aggressive. Due to the relatively rare nature of the disease and it's usual preference for males, we decided to have blood testing done for genetic markers. It was revealed that my grandmother, my aunt, my father, and myself all carry an abnormal gene that has been shown to have a correlation to developing pancreatic cancer. My still-burning rage turned to stark, bowel-loosening terror. Not only is it a poor prognosis once confirmed (80% treated mortality), it is an excruciatingly painful way to die. My aunt is still alive, but we are all aware of what is coming. She has already picked out the songs she wants me to sing at her funeral.
Fast forward to December. New Years Eve, in fact. My spirits were light; get home from work, relax, have a drink, and toast the end of a terrible year. Not much can go wrong in 24 hours, right? Wrong. I walked into work at my full-time job (a private ambulance company), and had just enough time to log in here to discover that I had won my first PIF (Xillion, you have no idea how much that meant to me, given the circumstances) when I was called into my supervisor's office. For perspective, the company had three owners, two of whom were paramedics and pretty decent guys. The third, the CFO, had no experience in the field, and no conscience to boot. To describe him as "reptilian" would be an insult to my pet skink. To spare the details, after two years of faithful service (including tasks that were so far outside my job description I should have reported it to OSHA), I was fired because a nurse disliked my asking pertinent questions. I had never been fired before, and despite my cynicism I had grown to trust these guys. My mistake. I went home and decompressed with an hour-long shave. I'm surprised I didn't even nick myself. I then proceeded to carpet-bomb other employers with applications, and I got a bite two days later. A friend set me up with a rival company (in a location they bought out from under my former employers, to my relish) with a part-time job. I'm there right now.
I'm now barely holding on, by fingernails and sheer cussedness. I like the company I work for now, but they can only give me part-time hours at a location 60 miles from home. I spend 48 hours straight there, but only get paid for 20. Such is the nature of on-call pay. While I am grateful for helping me in my time of need, the fact is that I cannot survive on this. Thankfully I had a fair amount of savings when I got fired, but monthly expenses as well as recertification fees are quickly dwindling it to a pittance. I figure I can last another month before I start going hungry or having my lights turned off. I have some other applications in the wind, and though it hurts me to leave a company who saved me in my time of need, I have to eat.
On top of that, my other job (paramedic with a small rural fire department) got its hours halved by order of the city council. I have that job mainly for resume-building and fun, but the paychecks definitely helped. Now, not so much. I'm sticking with them, since loyalty means a great deal to me, but it's sure getting tight. As an unforeseen side effect, this shut my various AD's down BUT GOOD. Cold comfort, but every cloud has a silver lining, right?
To anyone who has taken the time to read this novel of lamentations, thank you. This place has provided a welcome oasis of cheer and civility in my despair, and for that I am forever grateful. I have thought long about the first thing I want to do when my finances get better; a new razor, a new tattoo? Now I know. Expect a donation from a grateful soul. I was lost in the wilderness, but a rodent and a razor has led me back to the light. Thank you. Thank you all.
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