I am worried. I had different things to worry about when Al was here. Now priorities have changed. I have to go to work. I can only work part-time if I want to keep my small disability check. I can work 20 to 25 hours per week.
I didn’t give it too much thought. I have always been a caregiver, so I guess I will remain one; but the phone doesn’t ring from my placed ad. I applied at a place my brother was affiliated with for years yesterday and got an interview this afternoon.
Part of me was excited. The other part of me just wants to get the hell out of dodge, so to speak. I really don’t want to go back into care giving. Taking care of my dad and then Al has about finished me up. Another issue is I am not positive I am ready to go to work emotionally, but a girl has to eat right?
I went to the interview. It seemed to go fine until I had to explain that I didn’t want to work late evenings nor could I work forty hours. It went down hill from there. I told the lady I was more interested in days. I explained with my Diabetes I do not do well on third shift. It messes with my numbers too much, plus I know that with my age I don’t do well not getting my sleep. She pretty much told me she would keep it on file.
A part of me was fine with this. I hate to say it, let alone admit it on paper, but I don’t want to work with disabled clients anymore. I would love to have a job where there are people I can talk to and I don’t want to see sickness and death for a long time. But what’s a girl gonna do? To help spread awareness for MSA or to help an ill person, I can do this. To work daily with mental challenges, I am tired. Al was a challenge and I just don’t know if I really want to do it again.
I keep telling myself, Terry, at the age of 60 you should have done better in your life. You have no mate to help you out. You don’t have a bank account to squeal about. Girl, you are on your own and you better take what you can.
But I can’t see good enough in the dark to drive. This is why I told the lady I couldn’t do evenings. It wouldn’t look good to go to work and then not be able to drive home because of darkness.
There are times I feel like I have so much to offer to the world. 23 years of medical training. 7 years experience with MSA. A published book and a second one in writing. Yet here I sit, unemployed, not having the foggiest idea where I fit in.
I pay my bills when they arrive, but I want to eat and be able to enjoy some type of social life sometimes. Maybe I am just asking too much. After all, who wants a disabled, 60-year-old gal, when there are so many young people out there fresh out of high-school or college.
I can’t use my hands for a long period of time, and I can’t walk much due to Neuropathy in my feet. I am scared my friends. I must be good at something. I should have something to offer at my age. I am so confused.
On the way home on one side of the town was clouds and on the opposite side of town was sun. I snapped a photo of each side coming home. When I looked at them both as I placed them on here the two reminded me of me. Two different sides, a little dull, a little bright. Someone who doesn’t know which way to go or what door to walk in where the person on the other side will say, Yes, you are hired.
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