Age of Consent

 

“My last day of work is June 30^th!”   “My last day of work is June 30^th!” 

I keep repeating this to myself.  I have been at my current place of employment for nearly 13 years, so it’s not like this is the end of a major era, but it is long enough that it feels strange to think that I won’t be going in anymore.  I am officially taking a medical leave of absence.  My goal is to get better in every possible way.  Ever since my brain surgery in February of 2021, I have not been right.  I still cannot walk.  I still struggle with control of my left side.  I still have swelling on the back of my neck.  I still have a laundry list of issues with my vision, strength, my transplant, etc.  In addition, I am now taking a medication named Belzutifan to try and shrink my VHL brain tumors, which will be inoperable because it would be too dangerous.  At any rate, the new medication, applied to my already shaky state of being due to my long history of medical issues, has been incredibly difficult.  The drug reduces my hemoglobin to dangerously low levels, which means I have no energy, feel fatigued, and feel like I cannot breathe.  The medication also makes me feel foggy, experience nausea, headaches, and edema.  I am no longer able to be the best employee I can be, no matter how hard I try.

For the first time in my life, I’ve decided to focus on getting well.  I am trying to learn to ask for help.  I have reached a point, where I struggle with day to day living.  I cannot express how difficult this is for me, but I find myself worrying if I can put together a meal, or take out the trash, or get my weekly blood labs drawn, because the parking lot is three football fields away from the hospital entrance.  It’s scary to let go.  It’s scary to admit that I’m not capable to take care of myself anymore.  As a young man, I used to daydream about the idea of living in an assisted living home.  Of having my own pad in a building that serves food and takes care of the cleaning and entertainment.  That was before I realized that the only ones worth a damn are unbelievably expensive and that giving up control of one’s life is one of the worst feelings in the world.  I probably have an unrealistic and super bloated sense of pride and control, because I’ve always taken care of all of my own stuff and have come back from a lot of set-backs.  I didn’t understand why people resist retirement homes and assisted living.  Well now I understand how it feels like being thrown away. 

Please understand, I realize that I am privileged.  I’ve debated about even telling others, because things could be so much worse, and these days, so often are.  I am honestly scared.  As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, during my brain surgery in 2021, I was completely crazy for a time.  That experience still haunts me.  I was bed-ridden for a month (two of those weeks was ordered to be immobile and lay flat 24/7).  I had no control.  No one would listen to me.  I lost the feeling of trust.  That experience still informs me.  I am especially slow to trust.  I feel isolated.  I have no plan about how to get better, or what to do in the future.  My leave is indefinite, but my work benefits are not.  Yet I am reluctant, embarrassed, and seemingly unable to ask for help, nor do I know what that help would actually be.  If someone offers help, I do not know how to accept it!  What do I ask them to do?  How do I get over my stupid pride and ask? 

When I was crazy while in the hospital, I hallucinated every night that if I drifted off to sleep that the staff would change my room and place me in places I could not get out of.  I’m sure I was a prize patient for the nurses, because I would panic.  I still panic.  I currently struggle to stand from a seated position, but am also unable to stand for long periods of time.  I feel like I am easily stuck or stranded, so I become anxious about things going wrong before anything happens. 

I am very uncertain if I am making the right decision here, but I can honestly say that working every day has been nearly impossible physically (along with the mental struggle most of us worker ants can experience).  I worry that my health decline will continue and then I could be stuck without income, and health insurance.  I suppose it is my new adventure.  Sorry for taking up your time.