Curses

Now imagine I’d said the title in Disney Villian voice. Ursala, for preference; she always was my favourite.  WHY? Because it’s almost as fun as swearing and I’ve yet to set off a profanity filter doing it. More importantly, I feel it’s accurate.

Why curses?

Because today I was betrayed by the recliner!

That’s right, my chair!

How?

I made the mistake of trying to recline in it; forgetting once again that the tortured mechanisms now Fight to close back up. So I’m stuck there forcing all my strength into pushing it closed, hoping my brain doesn’t misfire, like it likes too when least convenient. The bloody thing snaps closed finally freeing me to stand up safely.

Drama over, I then retrieve my tablet, only to discover that in my forceful rocking of the chair I’d dislodged the magnetic charger, sending it straight into dangerzone, land of tired metal. I was so relieved when it came back with a gentle tug. We’ve had to fight cords out before, so it felt like a small victory.

I celebrated… too… soon…

Damn thing looked like my rats had found it; a neat slice through the casing then nicely frayed metal cords.

The biggest joke? I’d never even taken that charger into my room as I didn’t trust my rats. What would life be without irony?

Author’s note: so strictly speaking this is an auto-biographical blog post. I originally intended to write some flash fiction. As can be seen I got a little derailed…

I have been planning to get back to writing. I’ve started uni again and I’ve had success in the past using one to encourage the other; of course that was pre-craniotomy and may just spell a recipe for fatigue, I still think it’s worth a try.

Life between gears.

The jolt that hits you when you pick up the letter containing your next appointment time is unsettling. You try to rationalize it but deep down the sense of foreboding will never completely disappear.  My last MRI was in early January.  I know that the specialists have left my appointment till March – a whole 2 months later, is a very good sign.  I’m only in for a follow up, which is brilliant; all considered.  I may have had a door cut into my skull and sizable portion of unnatural brain matter removed, but for now the only problem is recovery.

I’m no longer sure what ‘recovery’ means for me.  My ‘normal’ ways of living are a thing of the past. I can count on seizures to knock away my control.  Brain damage impacts ‘normal’ functions on a regular basis.  My sense of normal is now completely askew.  Thankfully I’m no longer badly depressed about the loss of my lifestyle.  However, I’m now going to struggle with roadblocks to successful functionality placed in my way by society.

I am currently job hunting for a job that will allow me to phase into work.  I’m unable to work over certain hours for medical reasons. Now I am actually timid about the whole prospect about returning to work to begin with. I have had chronic pain for years but now I have a horde of physical limitation that will affect the kind of work I can do.  In this aspect I will just soldier on like I always have. The clincher comes in during interviews.  Every time I explain my current medical state/enforced sick leave, I can see in the interviewer’s eyes what’s going to happen.  The are going to dismiss my extensive experience and politely tell me that they have either a more suitable candidate or give me bullshit about the job being ill-suited for me in some way.  Now I’m being very careful in choosing the jobs I apply for at the moment – taking into consideration my condition and the job demands, so the idea that I’ve picked an unsuitable job is ludicrous.  I will, literally, apply for anything I think I’m capable of doing.  The example that best exemplifies the challenge I face is my recent experience with Mcdonalds.

I have a culmative 2 years of experience working for Mcdonalds.  I have a Customer Care Diploma from  their ‘university’. I applied for a part-time position at a store 3mins walk away.  I worked at stores far busier than that one. I also have a diverse set of experiences from other areas of hospitality.  Basically, I’m good. And that’s not intended as a boast.  I just have been working responsibly, diligently and without adequate rest since I went independent.  They had me in for 2 interviews (not ever happened with maccers, the last time I was hired on the spot!).  Then I got THE line: I need to speak with the store owner.  I knew exactly what to expect when I got the auto email once I heard that. It was generic template email.  It suggested I either apply at a closer store to where I live (Ha! I knew they were putting in one downstairs) or that I apply for one more suited to my availability or hours (Hmmm when did fully-flexible become restrictive?  And isn’t 16 hours part-time?). I am irritated because this is what I’ll face no matter what job I apply for. But it’s such a ridiculous response that I can’t stop laughing at it to be offended.  Still, at least they bothered to interview me; I know a lot are just skipping over my application.

I really do have better things to with my time then to be hampered by society devaluing my labour value because of a unavoidable medical condition that has given me disabilities. I will attack job hunting from other angles. Meanwhile I write.