This flu/pneumonia/plague virus I've been incubating for weeks will not go away completely. I spent two weekends sleeping and watching marathons of Doctor Who and the Gilmore Girls with the odd episode of True Blood sprinkled in. During the week, i tried to work but it was such a joke since I had little energy and no focus and couldn't talk on conference calls. The 'inability to talk' has been nearly catastrophic for my work. It seems that finally my voice is coming back. At first, I could make words, but sounded like I had a four-pack a day cigarette habit. My voice seems to be fairly normal now with the sporadic gravel tossed in for a fun reminder.
For a while, I lost my appetite. It is back again and everything tastes good and sounds good and there's a possibility I may eat this blog.....but not the whole blog. Now I become full so quickly that I can't finish a meal.
But, yes, it seems I'm improving.
All of this sickness has put a few things in perspective.
When my dad was ill with emphysema (as a result of smoking menthols for 40 years), he rarely complained. Talking took too much effort. So instead, he just disappeared. I noticed that he didn't eat much, and when I asked about it, he said it made him really tired to eat. I didn't get that. Until now.
I'm sure my lung capacity during this flu was not nearly as devastated as his was, but now, I have a taste of what he went through. When I had to focus on breathing.....when eating had no reward and just made me tired......when the act of talking at all was just too taxing: all I wanted was to retreat. I didn't want people around or to have to focus.
I'm sure breathing will be another thing I take for granted, and soon. But for a few brief days, I couldn't even get enough air to make a sneeze. Coughing was suffocating. There's a Bareilles song I love that has this soul-aching lyric: "All I have, all I need, is the air that I would kill to breathe." Never did those words ring more literal than these past weeks.
I'm not one to wallow in sickness or look for sympathy or pity. The world does not stop just because I don't have enough energy to function. I tried to keep on keeping on during all of this, but I'd be a total liar if I said it was easy. And I'd also be a liar if I said I didn't want more help during that time. My isolation wasn't just because I was sick, but more because I don't really have any local people on whom I can rely. It was a bit jarring (and quite telling) when I realized that someone I trusted looked to me for help with silly errands (which I did not oblige) when I was barely able to function.
So, during this time of unfortunate flu, I realized what I really need vs. things I want. I expect some life changes will come as a result....although I'm not ready to go into detail on them just yet.
And last, but certainly not least of the revelations: I am so dependent on my voice. When one works remotely, the phone line is how working relationships are built. I honestly think that the communication isn't just the words but how they are said, and that my voice, for whatever reason of tone or pitch or accent or something, has some sort of appeal to some people. Colleagues have made remarks about it over the years, but one I remember in particular said that he felt my successes were directly related to my 'soft-spoken tenacity' (which I think makes my Native-American name "stubborn with a whisper").
It's not something I work to achieve or into which I put special effort. I just talk how I talk. Except that for about two-three weeks, I couldn't talk. And when I could, it was not like usual. The impact was obvious. It was commented on constantly. My inability to communicate the way I wanted, especially during an executive high-focus on some of my work, was so debilitating. Nobody wanted to interact, and yet there were things to be done. I felt like a leper that wandered into the market place for basic necessities.
Of course, it was a flu virus, so I'm not really sure there's any action I can take from this except perhaps to consume more lemon-honey-tea.
The main conclusion is that I am grateful for my voice when it works properly, and I need to not lose sight of that gratitude. It is important to not take the most basic things for granted: like breathing and the taste of food and actual hunger and to go 24-hours straight without a fever. Maybe I needed a kick to remind me of that.
Perspectives refreshed. Rebooted. Off we go again.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Friday, August 12, 2011
Receptionists are not babysitters
Against my better judgment, I had to run my son to the dentist yesterday. He's been battling flu symptoms for a couple of weeks, and while he is much better, he's still not 100%.
Around noon, his father surprised me with the news of the dental-hygenist appointment, which last week I had requested he reschedule. He did not.
While that is an interesting blog subject regarding manipulative control freaks whose self-esteem issues require them to be endlessly self-centered, I'll save that for another day.
Today, the irksome things began with the father's 'demand' that I just "Drop the boy off at the office..." and he'd "pick him up later."
Uh, no.
Just no.
He's an 11 year old kid. You don't just drop him off at some medical office or facility and expect that other people are going to look after him if something unplanned happens....even if he has an appointment.
It is not okay to make a dental hygenist, medical receptionist, or other non-childcare professionals responsible for watching your kid because you just don't want to wait around or have errands to run.
Which brings me to the next irksome thing: this small dentist office has an even smaller waiting room. When we arrived, there was an enormous jogging stroller....you know the type with the gigantic rugged tires.....taking up most of the free space. In that stroller was a sleeping child, probably 2-3 years old. Beside that stroller were two other kids, that I would guess were about five and seven.
There was no adult with them.
The adult, it seems, was back in the dental chair and emerged later, quickly gathering up her gaggle and quietly exiting. They were pretty good kids, yes and were mostly focused on some video devices they had. But when did this become acceptable?
Now I know somebody out there is going to be pissed that I feel this way, but I'm just going to say it: the receptionist at a medical office or styling salon or any other place that has a receptionist is not your babysitter.
The people sitting in the lobby do not want to be responsible for your kids either, even if the kids are angels, even if they have hand-held electronic game systems to entertain them. And even though times are hard, it STILL should not be acceptable to dump your kids in a waiting room and 'get back to them later'.
It. Is. Just. Not. Okay.
Which is why I waited at the office while my son was there, even though his father believes in the drop-off. It is absolutely poor-form to just expect other people to be responsible for your kids without making arrangements. From my perspective as a mom, I certainly would feel like an irresponsible parent if I expected others to even know how to act in my child's best interest if the unexpected occurred. Yes, there will be an age at which I can comfortably 'drop my child off', but eleven isn't it....and this day was a case in point.
As I suspected, the boy was not enough recovered from his flu to undergo a dental cleaning, and I had to be there to make the final call AND to take him home when the appointment was shorter than planned.
Around noon, his father surprised me with the news of the dental-hygenist appointment, which last week I had requested he reschedule. He did not.
While that is an interesting blog subject regarding manipulative control freaks whose self-esteem issues require them to be endlessly self-centered, I'll save that for another day.
Today, the irksome things began with the father's 'demand' that I just "Drop the boy off at the office..." and he'd "pick him up later."
Uh, no.
Just no.
He's an 11 year old kid. You don't just drop him off at some medical office or facility and expect that other people are going to look after him if something unplanned happens....even if he has an appointment.
It is not okay to make a dental hygenist, medical receptionist, or other non-childcare professionals responsible for watching your kid because you just don't want to wait around or have errands to run.
Which brings me to the next irksome thing: this small dentist office has an even smaller waiting room. When we arrived, there was an enormous jogging stroller....you know the type with the gigantic rugged tires.....taking up most of the free space. In that stroller was a sleeping child, probably 2-3 years old. Beside that stroller were two other kids, that I would guess were about five and seven.
There was no adult with them.
The adult, it seems, was back in the dental chair and emerged later, quickly gathering up her gaggle and quietly exiting. They were pretty good kids, yes and were mostly focused on some video devices they had. But when did this become acceptable?
Now I know somebody out there is going to be pissed that I feel this way, but I'm just going to say it: the receptionist at a medical office or styling salon or any other place that has a receptionist is not your babysitter.
The people sitting in the lobby do not want to be responsible for your kids either, even if the kids are angels, even if they have hand-held electronic game systems to entertain them. And even though times are hard, it STILL should not be acceptable to dump your kids in a waiting room and 'get back to them later'.
It. Is. Just. Not. Okay.
Which is why I waited at the office while my son was there, even though his father believes in the drop-off. It is absolutely poor-form to just expect other people to be responsible for your kids without making arrangements. From my perspective as a mom, I certainly would feel like an irresponsible parent if I expected others to even know how to act in my child's best interest if the unexpected occurred. Yes, there will be an age at which I can comfortably 'drop my child off', but eleven isn't it....and this day was a case in point.
As I suspected, the boy was not enough recovered from his flu to undergo a dental cleaning, and I had to be there to make the final call AND to take him home when the appointment was shorter than planned.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Dinner, math, and relationship
I was recently out to dinner at a moderately nice restaurant. I was seated at close proximity to a couple that were obviously on a first date. We were so close, it was impossible to not hear the conversation, as much as I tried not to....okay, so I tried not to AT FIRST.
After a while, it was interesting....the speculation.
I suppose the writer in me wants to know how it's going to 'turn out'.
He, the khaki clad corporate guy with a scruffy beard trying to brag about his investments and his camping/fishing hobby.
She, the pretty blonde with an edgy, almost gruff voice trying to sell him on how great it was when she was decades younger, driving a motorcycle and being in the military. As she continued to talk about herself, it seemed she was intentionally sabotaging the date.....making her life sound like she had just walked off the set of Jerry Springer.
Obviously, they were both a bit out of their element.....she probably seeking stability and he wanting to try something a bit wilder.
She spent much of the rest of the meal looking bored. I could feel their awkward silences at my table....so awkward that I struck up a ridiculous conversation with my waitress just to give them something to hear other than the shuffling of their meals on their plates.
Yeah, I don't think it was really going to work out for them.
Or maybe they'll give it a go and try to be different and realize...nah...bad idea....OR not? Good idea? Different enough from what they've known to want to make things work?
Who knows. Maybe they view awkward silence as foreplay (for what's it worth, I do not.)
The real question in my mind: how does it work out for anyone?
I guess I have not yet discovered my magical equation that defines the acceptable relationship parameters around 'different' and 'same'.
The struggle for me is that it's not a finite point. Some days, all I want is different.....I want the discovery, the newness, the excitement and challenge of learning how to be with someone unlike me. Some days, all I want is same....the comfort of not having to work at it....of knowing that if I relax for a minute, my world will not be turned on its ear.
I suppose if I knew how to navigate that, my life would be different. But, even at the ripe old age of not yet 40, I'm still learning relationship algebra.
After a while, it was interesting....the speculation.
I suppose the writer in me wants to know how it's going to 'turn out'.
He, the khaki clad corporate guy with a scruffy beard trying to brag about his investments and his camping/fishing hobby.
She, the pretty blonde with an edgy, almost gruff voice trying to sell him on how great it was when she was decades younger, driving a motorcycle and being in the military. As she continued to talk about herself, it seemed she was intentionally sabotaging the date.....making her life sound like she had just walked off the set of Jerry Springer.
Obviously, they were both a bit out of their element.....she probably seeking stability and he wanting to try something a bit wilder.
She spent much of the rest of the meal looking bored. I could feel their awkward silences at my table....so awkward that I struck up a ridiculous conversation with my waitress just to give them something to hear other than the shuffling of their meals on their plates.
Yeah, I don't think it was really going to work out for them.
Or maybe they'll give it a go and try to be different and realize...nah...bad idea....OR not? Good idea? Different enough from what they've known to want to make things work?
Who knows. Maybe they view awkward silence as foreplay (for what's it worth, I do not.)
The real question in my mind: how does it work out for anyone?
I guess I have not yet discovered my magical equation that defines the acceptable relationship parameters around 'different' and 'same'.
The struggle for me is that it's not a finite point. Some days, all I want is different.....I want the discovery, the newness, the excitement and challenge of learning how to be with someone unlike me. Some days, all I want is same....the comfort of not having to work at it....of knowing that if I relax for a minute, my world will not be turned on its ear.
I suppose if I knew how to navigate that, my life would be different. But, even at the ripe old age of not yet 40, I'm still learning relationship algebra.
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