A Break From WordPress

Enjoying nature and loving on my plants a bit more.

**Previous letter issued to A Cornered Gurl via Medium . . .

On February 19, 2021, I was diagnosed with keratoconus. In short, the corneas are bulging forward; shifting and moving away from my eyes. I am currently scheduled for my consultation with the Duke Eye Center on Thursday, April 22, 2021.

I am curbing some of my computer/device screen time and doing other things on this end to make things a bit easier on these eyes of mine. Because of this, effective today, I’ll be taking a two-week break away from WordPress. I would like to get back to my creative writing here on Saturday, April 24, 2021.

I hope each of you will continue to create great posts with creative content for the community to enjoy and please know I look forward to reading your blogs upon my return.

I offer you peace and blessings.

Humbly,

Tre

Second Dose: NaPoWriMo#5

Hello, Me. Let’s Take Care of You

**I am sharing this here as well. In about another week, I will do a post for WordPress announcing my two week break from my participation here. I always like to give a head’s up to you guys as you’re not just a great community here; you’ve become family too.

My new glasses; a favorite book. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt


A much-needed break from ACG

On February 19, 2021, I was diagnosed with keratoconus. In short, the corneas are bulging forward; shifting and moving away from my eyes. When I first noticed the dramatic change in my vision, I thought surely it had to be aging as various body parts tend to depreciate as one gets older. However, I was sadly mistaken.

The glare, sensitivity to light, misshaped corneas, and astigmatism all revealed it was definitely something more. I sat in the patient chair directly across from my optometrist as she explained this new thing heaved upon me.

She said “keratoconus” as if it was second-nature to her. I asked her to repeat it. And then again. After her repetition of the word, I asked her to please write it down. She spoke and as she did, I sat there dumbfounded by the words that tumbled out of her mouth. What is this thing and why am I its new host?

Noting my “lazy eye,” she inquired if I had ever worn an eye patch as a child. I am sure the look that shadowed my face spoke louder than I ever could. “No, I never did.” It was all I could say. I was still practicing (in my head) this new word I’d never heard. Keratoconus. Keratoconus. Keratoconus.

“Please, if you don’t mind, can you repeat it one more time?”


“I’m referring you to the specialists at Duke. They will examine you, determine the level of damage, and set a course for treatment.”

“Is this curable? What am I looking at as a worst-case scenario?”

I had so many questions. Referral to Duke? Treatment? Level of damage?

I’ve been wearing glasses since I was twelve years old — contacts since I was seventeen. Not once did I ever truly envision the possibility of losing my sight entirely or requiring some form of surgery to set my vision back to a suitable standard. I never thought I’d need contacts designed especially for corneal deficiencies that cost an arm and a leg.

None of this ever crossed my mind.

I have new glasses now. New contacts. And with both, my sight is a bit better, but there’s still a glare and some things are still blurry. But this is due to cornea damage. More about this and whatever treatment designed for my case will be discussed on Thursday, April 22, 2021, during my consultation at the Duke Eye Center.


I have already begun implementing methods to help salvage my sight: reduced my daily screentime, purchased blue light glasses, purchased new glasses and contacts (as mentioned above), and now . . . I will be taking much-needed breaks from a few obligations to help limit my time in front of a computer screen or laptop.

Effective March 31, 2021, I will temporarily pause publishing in A Cornered Gurl. I will not be accepting any new writers or new submissions at that time. The tentative date of my return to duties in this publication is Sunday, April 25, 2021. If I feel, at that time, that I do not want to move forward with continuing to host the publication, I will make an announcement about that fact.

From March 31, 2021, until April 25, 2021, I am asking all current writers to not submit any new work to ACG. If a draft is received, it will be sent back to you referencing this letter. I am asking any writers interested in A Cornered Gurl to please not send any requests to become a writer via email. If received, it will be sent back to you referencing this letter.

I want to move through this new phase of my life continuing to learn more about this condition and press forward with any tools I may need to help me save my sight. I truly hope you understand this.


You will still see me on Medium as I also edit for P.S. I Love You and I will have writing published from time to time but I will not be nearly as active.

I want to say thank you to each of you who took interest in this publication and decided to support it. Without you, ACG would not be the publication it is — a safe and creative space for writers unafraid to break out of the box. You have my complete and total adoration.

I wish you kindness, understanding, love, peace, and a hell of a lot of writing and creativity.

Until next time, stay safe and be well.

Peace and blessings.


Originally published as an informative letter in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

New Work

An Experiment

new hire on November 09th,
transferral complete. I’m learning
so much about a market that
was not mine before. 
the difference between my
previous home and my new
one is that I’m actually at home.
stay with me, please — you’ll
understand soon.
 
I love what I do and where I
work, yet I’d forgotten
what it felt like to be safe
and now I remember — 
now, I know.

Hundreds of calls burst
through my queue — I don’t
know these names, they aren’t
familiar, but I am learning them.
each patient has their own
way of presenting themselves as
I work feverishly on the other end
of the line searching for the best
appointment times for 
their procedures. 
it’s a totally different ball game
with an entirely different 
outcome — yet being remarkable
has to stand out.

My longest call was an hour
and ten minutes and my patient
commended me for my patience
in assisting her — I thought about
my grandmother and I knew 
I would want someone to take their
time and do everything they needed
to in helping her and making 
sure she felt comfortable during the
scheduling process too.

4 MRIs of four separate body parts,
2 appointment dates and arrival times,
prep instructions, address for the facility,
and a transfer to the billing department
for a complete estimate of the costs . . .
if I make it to my 70s, I hope someone
will be my Job
I hope someone will understand 
I move slower than I once did.

Training is rigorous — 
we’re not simply thrown out
to an ocean of open mouths, however
we’ll sink or swim. 
I aim to swim like I always do
and three weeks in, I haven’t
drowned. I am still treading
water at a pace comfortable 
for me, however, excelling — 
hitting all cylinders according
to plan.

Working from home provides
a sense of peace I recalled
years ago in my introductions 
to various workplaces. 
everything I want and need
is here — I know where 
things are, I don’t have to
go searching for them.

My dog gets multiple short
walks every day and 
my mind, body, and soul feels
refreshed. 
it’s still early — but I would
be willing to stake several
claims on this quote: 
“Home is where the heart is.”

It is. mine has stopped aching
since my first day of 
new work.


Originally published on Medium.

Hello, Happiness. Hello, Sadness. Which of You Will I Feel Today?

On: moving through these two emotions as best as I can.

Image for post
Photo by DEVN via Unsplash

I am seated at my kitchen table in my breakfast nook — laptop propped up, my therapist’s voice in the background . . . We are meeting, but virtually. This has become — dare I say it, Our New Normal. I have adjusted my life in such a way that allows me an evening once per month with my therapist so I may stay on track in managing my emotions, dealing with personal breakdowns, and understanding the many changes happening in my life that have affected me more than I thought they would. For now, this plan is proving to be helpful and as soon as I transition to my new position, we will find a better time of day to conduct our sessions.

For those of you unaware, I will switch jobs soon. On November 06, 2020, I will say goodbye to the facility where I work and transfer to another department within our organization for a remote position. This will be good for me — it will keep me out of some intense situations with people who have proven to be more selfish than selfless. Screening for COVID-19 symptoms during what is now “Flu Season” is taxing. It was already a strenuous task hard on my body, but the level of exhaustion has increased in recent weeks.

I am open and honest when I say I would rather be at home during a global pandemic and I am overjoyed about this change, however, happiness is not the only emotion I feel as I count down to my last day.

I am leaving people I love

Although I will still work for the same organization, I will be in a different department — handling mostly different tasks. This moves me from a group of people I love — cherish as a family. My team is outstanding and walking away from them will leave me gutted in a way I had not prepared for.

I can already feel sadness settling in intermittently. It overwhelms me. It stifles me and drains my energy. It keeps me from being my best self at work.

When you learn and grow with an amazing group of people who go above and beyond in doing their jobs and have a mindset of providing remarkable care to patients, this is hard to forget or dismiss.

My team will be one person short until there is a replacement. I think about how that will impact them — how they will have to work doubly hard to keep up with our facility’s pace, and what that might do to them both mentally and physically. Ours is a fast-paced facility servicing a demographic that isn’t always responsive or respectful, so trying times come more often than not.

I can already feel sadness settling in intermittently. It overwhelms me. It stifles me and drains my energy. It keeps me from being my best self at work.

Making this decision to step down and away from my current position was hard because I am not leaving a place I hate . . . I am leaving a place I love — one filled with people who care, are concerned, and want to help others.

It was time I “chose” me first

I decided to do this for me — to put me first, and I will not back down from it. When I look at how what I do warps my emotions, pulls me away from others, and makes me want to retreat more than invite or welcome anyone in (be it virtually or while social-distancing), a work-from-home position could be the peace and safety I need to regain some semblance of my former self.

We are all quarantining or distancing ourselves from those we love — we’re all feeling the brunt of this global pandemic. My question to myself was, “How can you change one thing to make what you do better?” Given what I do, there is no way to change it to make it better. It’s a hands-on job with involvement and physical interaction with people who are seeing us for the care they wish to get. So, I then said to myself, “You can still be in the medical field, but be hands-off.” And therefore, I applied to remote positions within our organization.

I know where my heart is, and it’s in helping others — it always has been there. I feel strongly about this purpose. Moving towards this position to schedule invasive procedures and imaging scans for our patients while still being able to communicate with them (over-the-phone or via our chat/email options) relieves me. I will still do what I love doing.

What day will this be? A happy or sad one?

As I work down the last two weeks of my resignation, I am moving through two emotions rather wildly. My sense of self feels off-kilter and unbalanced. One day, I’m happy to count down to my last day. The next, I am sad. I am moved to tears. The hurt cuts deeply. I know what I am doing. I know why I am leaving. I want to feel as though it validates my reasons for doing so without the added baggage of enhanced emotions.

I am open and honest when I say I would rather be at home during a global pandemic and I am overjoyed about this change, however, happiness is not the only emotion I feel as I count down to my last day.

My therapist to me during our last session: “You will move through those emotions as they come, Tre. What did we discuss during our last session about feeling all of them?”

“Feel them, then move on from them.”

Moving on is the hard part. I feel them just fine. They welcome themselves into my daily routine unannounced, and I have to reassure myself that what I am feeling is sound — it is normal. I have a right to be both happy and sad about choosing to leave my job and the people I love, but why can’t I understand this?

Quietly, I belittle myself for moving from one emotion to the next as the days pass. I have to learn to be kinder — to acknowledge that this is monumental for me and to give myself a little more love. It took me months to crack down on a job hunt and a few more weeks after that, to pursue the jobs for which I had applied. This was a process — a well thought out process. I did not make the decision in haste.

It all boils down to my reluctance to adapt to change — this, I know. I am aware of this. It crushes me to shift a routine, to uproot my habitual status, to move with the wind . . . I am happier planted — a tree should be my spirit object. I made a mental note of this to discuss with my therapist during our next session. Perhaps this is another reason both happiness and sadness have become my bedfellows.

The time is nearing and my team members and some patients who are knowledgeable are telling me how much they will miss me and sending me my roses while I am still alive. I appreciate them. I look forward to them. I am blessed to be a person so loved and accepted. I am happy they are allowing me to smell them before I leave — to embrace their compassion before I say “Goodbye.”

It crushes me to shift a routine, to uproot my habitual status, to move with the wind . . . I am happier planted — a tree should be my spirit object.

And as the days continue to dwindle down to the final one, I will continue to acknowledge what I am feeling and why.

Regardless of when happiness or sadness greets me, I will be ready to stare each down fearlessly.


Originally published on Medium.