Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Sickling.

It makes me angry and sad and frustrated that I had to come into the office today. Getting here was excruciating, a trial for the body and the soul. Now, just sitting here my pain is at a 4 or a 5, and god forbid I try to do anything crazy like walk - it just spikes right up to a 7 or 8. The weather, I think, is at least partly to blame: it's very cold and very damp, with a precipitation combination of rain and fat wet snowdrops. Enough snow has accumulated on the ground that it's like walking on a slushie just spilled, making my already unsure steps that much more wobbly. It hurt like hell to do so, what with the very inflamed tendon in my left foot, but how was I to go out in this without putting on boots?

The answer that comes raging to the forefront of my mind is, of course, "Well, your back is killing you, and your sciatica has been getting progressively worse for several days in a row, and it's inflaming your foot so much that it's somewhat difficult for you to walk... why would you even consider going out in this?!" It seems simple enough. If I'm not in good enough shape to go to work, I shouldn't. If only it worked that way.

See, the real trouble is that I have the audacity to think that I get to be like other people and go off and have a wedding. I really do have some nerve don't I? The wedding is eating up 10 of my days for the year, plus three more for the weekend I just took to make preparations (and see my neurologist). That's 13 down. I've already missed two days this year because I had headaches so bad that getting on the subway was absolutely out of the question - that's 15. So even with the fairly generous number of vacation/sick days afforded me by this employer, I only have 7 days left to last me the next 10 months. Not even one day per. This is bad math.

What I really and truly wish is that they would let me take unpaid days, but for some reason that is out of the question. I would understand it being a problem if I just wanted to take one vacation after another, but I have some fairly exceptional circumstances here.

Or do I? After all, who am I to deserve time off in the days leading up to my wedding? Who am I to think I can just blow a week on the frivolity of a honeymoon? I know full well that I'm sickly. I should be more practical. I should be keeping those days so that I can call out when I'm ill. After all, it's not as if I'm human. I'm just the sick thing they stuck in the basement when I became too much trouble upstairs.

And I wonder: how much longer can I live like this?

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