Tag: Work

I Am Giving Myself This Day

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I need it, my body told me so. My mind did too.

Photo by Madison Lavern via Unsplash

I woke up this morning shortly before I usually do to prepare for work. However, I could not move. It was as if my body laid claim to my bed and demanded to stay put. Any other day, I’d peel myself away from the comfort of a pillow-top mattress and will myself to get up and get going, but today . . . today, I listened to my body and succumbed to a day of rest. The tears lined themselves up accordingly right behind my eyes. I could feel it — it would be a day of dealing with extreme emotions — work would have to wait.

I’d felt off-kilter this past weekend leading into this week, and I ignored it. This was probably not the best thing to do given my current circumstance, but a day off is in play. I communicated with our center manager the need for a mental health day and received a prompt response regarding it and its approval. I want to save as much energy as I can for the days, weeks, and months ahead. I have a few writing projects coming up that will require research and getting into character to pull off these works.

Of late, I am drained both physically and mentally and after yesterday’s minor run-in with a patient who wanted to do what he wanted to do, but found out quickly — we follow the recommendations and guidelines issued to us and our entire medical organization, I am zapped. It takes so much out of me to get through an eight to sometimes ten-hour workday, adding privileged and irresponsible people to the mix regularly, is too much.

How kind are we to our minds, to our bodies when we need to be? Do we give ourselves the time off we need or are we pushing through, trying to get past the pull of a crying body and an aching mind?

When you feel like your stress levels have reached their peak, it might be time to take a quick break to reset.

— Elizabeth Scott, MS

I reserved a “mental health day“ to do exactly this — reset. Recharge. Regain some semblance of myself before taking on the world of screening and surveying patients for Coronavirus, COVID-19 symptoms again. I could feel myself fading, unraveling — if I’m being honest and I had to put a stop to it. I still need to get through the rest of this week.

To read the rest of this article, please see it in its entirety at Thrive Global. 

The Power of Touch

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I am grateful to the editors of such a fine online media outlet such as Thrive Global for publishing another article of mine, entitled The Power of Touch. Working where I work and doing what I do–I’ve made it a point to continue to write about my experiences during this pandemic. Having Thrive Global as another source to host my work is beefing up my “writer’s resume'” and I am incredibly excited about this fact.

Of all the things Coronavirus, COVID-19 has stripped away from us, touch is what I miss most. Being an affectionate person has its downsides, especially during a global pandemic. If you’re a single person and live alone as I do, the comfort of your home and all that’s within it is what you have—it’s all you have. I am grateful to have a small dog who allows me to pour my love into her and returns every ounce of affection I need. All I have to do is beckon her to me and my requests for kisses, loving paw-taps, and lap naps are eagerly given without protest.

While I appreciate my precious little four-legged fur-baby and her ability to connect with me on this level, she cannot replace the power of a human’s touch. As living—breathing sentient beings, we need touch. It is important for our overall health and well-being, and being forced to not take part in something that can sustain us is a hard blow to the heart and mind.

According to Maria Cohut, Ph.D., “Touching, and being touched, activate particular areas of our brain, thus influencing our thought processes, reactions, and even physiological responses.”

Medical News Today, September 2018.

As a healthcare worker, a few things that allowed me to connect with our patients was to shake a hand, offer a hug, or lightly pat someone on the back if they were afraid, grieving, in pain, or simply needed someone to recognize that void and seal it up with a small dose of affection. Now, within my six feet of social distance, while wearing a face mask, gloves, goggles, and sometimes other forms of PPE, I cannot offer the one thing I grew accustomed to providing—human touch.

I have not seen my mother since March of this year. I have endured none of her long hugs, cheek kisses, or hand-holding in moments of being uplifted. I do, however, call her every day after my shift. I do this to give her the gift of my voice—to let her know I am okay, that I made it through another day. I appreciate having this mode of connection with her—that she can hear me, but it does not come close to what we established between mother and daughter: a bond that grew because of touch, because of affection. There is something about being able to lean into the comfort of one’s mother and gain a sense of relief from having done so.

To read the article in its entirety, please click here.

Article Published in Thrive Global

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I recently had an article published in Thrive Global and to say that I am excited about this is a serious understatement. I am grateful to the editors of such a fine online media outlet and will continue to submit work to them in hopes of those essays also being accepted and published. I will share a snippet of the article, This Is My Life Now with you here, then link you directly to it in its published form.

“As a healthcare worker, I know what lies before me prior to entering our doors for work. I know that my day could be a roller coaster ride, a pleasant happening, or an overall chaotic batch of insanity. The problem is, I never know which one will greet me and when. Since the brunt of the global pandemic of 2020 in March of this year, North Carolina has seen its share of turmoil and devastation. According to the North Carolina Department of Health and Human Services (NCDHHS), our total number of active cases is 95,477 as of July 17, 2020, and these numbers are rising steadily.

My official title is Patient Access Specialist and prior to the pandemic, I registered patients for their imaging and invasive procedures at a prominent imaging center in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. My role has shifted in the last few months and I am now the primary screener for our facility. What does this mean? I am the person who surveys patients by asking them pertinent questions linked to COVID-19 symptoms and checking their temperatures before they enter our waiting areas.

What I’ve found out in the last few months: No one tells you how to grieve when you’re a healthcare worker. They do not prepare you for the many emotions you may experience while doing your job. Since the middle of April, I’ve felt the following emotions: anger, sadness, happiness, fear, and disgust. I encounter a wide range of patients throughout my day. Some are oblivious to the severity of this virus, some are flat out stubborn and cannot believe it exists, and others are terrified of even the slightest communication from someone trying to ensure their safety. I have my work cut out for me for at least eight to ten hours each day.

There is no tiny bubble to where I can retreat and my feelings matter not when communicating with and screening a patient. What most of them see is someone before them intervening and disturbing their day when all they want to do is come in, have their services rendered, pay for them, and leave. Things have changed. Our lives will never be the same. Coronavirus, COVID-19 has stuck its toes in the everlasting waters of life and is here with a powerful force and for how long, we do not know.”

You can read the article in its entirety here. Thank you.

Family Owned

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Mushrooms|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Part III: Buddy Visits

Starla and Chloe finished up for the day in the shop and decided to sit out front near the walkway leading up to the B & B. The sun tilts its head just right over the building and a slight breeze nestles on the oak trees’ leaves. Chloe listens as her aunt rants and raves about her good-for-nothing brother Buddy, who finally decides to show up.

“Well, looky here! If it ain’t the horse’s taint and sullied hind-end, Buddy. What you know good? We were just talkin’ about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

Buddy leans in to kiss his niece’s cheek and shoots a stern look toward his sister.

“When will I ever have good things to say about you? You bring the deposit slip?”

“I did. And I’m here to pick up the other deposits to drop off to the bank before me and Daria head north for the weekend.”

Daria is Buddy’s thin-mint girlfriend. She’s about as entertaining as wet cement drying and a night spent with food poisoning. He plans to marry her — when, they don’t know.

“Ugh. Daria. You still messin’ around with her?”

“Yes, I’m still messin’ around with her, Starla. I intend to marry her.”

“Yes, you keep sayin’ that, but when? It’s been four years already and no engagement.”

“When I’m good-in-hell-ready, Starla! I ain’t on your schedule and we’re not ready for marriage yet, but I will marry her!”

Starla, married and divorced twice, knew what would last and what had the potential to crash and burn. She decides to keep these thoughts to herself as she drifts away to her own past.

“Okay, Buddy. Okay . . . In your own time. Will you please try to bring the deposit slips back before you head north? I’d like to document them and reconcile the numbers before the weekend’s out.”

“Yeah, I’ll swing back by tomorrow morning. It’ll be early cuz we wanna beat this holiday traffic.”

Buddy notices the God-forsaken mushrooms have grown once again on the plush grass of their family’s B & B landscape. He is instantly annoyed by them.

“I thought Stephan and his men did something about those damn mushrooms the last time they were out here. Got this place lookin’ like some old hippie retreat. Have them do something about those mushrooms the next time they’re out here! Why hasn’t Davie Boy removed them?”

“Because Davie Boy has been busy doing the things you are supposed to do as well as his own share of work around here. You want something done about them, Buddy, you do it. Besides, I kinda like them, gives the place a little character.”

Buddy slings the deposit bag toward his sister, kisses his niece goodbye, and vanishes just as quickly as he appeared.

“That’s your uncle, Chloe. We can’t do anything but love him, but I’ll be honest, it’s hard sometimes.”

The wind sneaks over to their faces, lands on each one, and leaves its mark.

Tomorrow, they’ll pull the mushrooms up.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Part I and Part II

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Part II: Getting Things In Order

Favorite mug|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Starla sipped coffee from her favorite mug: strong, black, and with a shot of whiskey. The day will be filled with making sure Chloe is comfortable enough to take on her new role: Personal Assistant. Starla had to dig into her bag of tricks to provide a decent environment for her niece — the pressures of life are already more than enough to drown a teenager’s hopes and dreams but add to that the death of a parent, and what you could potentially have is a disaster. And Starla did not want that — not for her niece, not for her family.

“Chloe. Let’s see what we have for you today. Did you hear me? Come on down and let’s start this day anew with a list of things you will help me with for the shop.”

Chloe stared at herself in the mirror — her eyes sunken and darted with sadness. She buttoned her top, zipped up her jeans, and slid her pedicured feet into her sandals. Could this be the start of her new life? Or at least, a new day? She descended the stairs, hair bouncing with the weight of each step, her arms at her side, and lips pursed into a perfect position. She stood before her aunt, prepared for her personal appearance review.

“Well, look at you! You are a sight for sore eyes, Chloe. Thank you for meeting me this morning. Lemme start this day off by sayin’, I ain’t tryin’ to put anything on you that you don’t need, I am only tryin’ to keep you from breakin’ and livin’ in a world of pain. This — all of this, could be good for you.”

Starla pointed in the direction of both the flower shop and the B & B, watched the expression on her niece’s face, and began again with her speech.

“Since June passed, Davie Boy says he’s noticed some changes in you. Now, I ain’t gonna sit on no high horse cuz Lawd knows I’ve had my share of dippin’ and dabblin’ into things I shouldn’t have, but I also know where those things could have led me had my daddy not put his foot down when he did. You will help me out with the shop Mondays through Thursdays from 9:00 am until 3:00 pm. We will always have a feast of a lunch at 12:00 pm until 12:30 pm. The B & B staff will see to that. When 3:00 pm hits the dot, do as you please, but within our rules and guidelines here. We will go over those later. Are we good so far?”

Chloe looked at her aunt, a feeling of trapped emotion dwarfed her. She heard every word and instantly felt the presence of her mother. Someone to direct her. Someone to guide her. Someone to give her options and make sure she makes good choices. She patted the thighs of her jeans and nodded in agreement.

“Good! Good! Now that we are on one accord, let’s have ourselves some breakfast.”

Davie Boy entered the dining room of the B & B looking for his sister and daughter. His eyes lit up when he spotted the two of them sitting at one of the tables talking.

“Mornin’, ladies. How goes it?”

“It goes, Davie Boy. Whatchu up to?”

“Not too much of anything right now, Starla. You gettin’ this one up-to-speed with how things go ‘round here?”

“I am and we don’t need no once-overs from you. I think Chloe’s gonna be just fine.”

Starla looked at her niece, gave her a wink, and nodded in approval. Davie Boy smiled his approval as well. To know he will have help raising his daughter once again took a heavy weight off his shoulders. He could already feel his breathing become easier to do.

“You listen to your Aunt Starla and I’ll be back to getcha ‘round 3:15 this afternoon.” He bowed his capped head in his daughter’s direction and blew her a kiss. “Starla, anything you need for the shop while I’m out?”

“I think we’re good for now, Davie Boy. If you find that brother of ours gallivantin’ ‘round town, let him know we’re still missing last week’s deposit. He ain’t pickin’ up his phone.”

“I sure will, Starla. I sure will.”

Starla and Chloe finished their breakfast and started off to begin a day’s work. The whiskey in Starla’s mug — now potent enough to kill a potted plant. Today is a new day.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Part I

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Part I: A Snapshot

Open Arms|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

“Davie Boy, pull that branch away from the main walkway, please. We don’t need anyone tripping and breaking their neck … The last thing I can stomach is a lawsuit, especially during a damn global pandemic. And while you’re at it, see if you can take a proper photo of the Jane Magnolia trees. I wanna showcase them in the new magazine for the shop.”

Starla beckoned from behind the desk of her family’s bed-and-breakfast. Davie Boy, her younger brother, helped to keep the place up and running. He was what you’d call a “handyman,” but he was more man than he was handy.

“And where is that God-forsaken niece of mine?! CHLOE! CHLOE! GET DOWN HERE, ASAP!”

The walls of the shop creaked. Starla was a loud woman. Always heard. Barely seen. She made the lives of everyone around her miserable. She now lived as a divorcée who owned two cats, a dog, and hundreds of handmaid quilts from the elder women in her family. And … part of the bed-and-breakfast. Buddy, her older brother, is the other owner.

“Starla, I don’t get paid enough for this. I threw my back out messin’ ‘round with them branches and those magnolia trees aren’t half-bloomed yet. Be a pity to waste good film on them in that state. Probably best to wait another week.”

Starla listened to the saucy words of her kid brother, knowing full well he was half-right. A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard.

“Whatever. Thank you.”

Buddy didn’t stick around much. The only things he had on Starla was age, favored gender by their dad, and the uncanny ability to lie in the face of danger. He could talk himself out of trouble and talk himself into bed with anyone. Starla, if she were truthful, envied him.

“I’ll just see if Buddy can do it the next time he swings by this way. He should’ve dropped the deposit off last Friday, haven’t seen the fool yet. Don’t worry about any of it, Davie Boy. It’ll get done. Can you collect your daughter and run to the store? Here’s the list.”

She handed Davie Boy the shopping list and watched as her niece came bouncing down the stairs in a revealing top and some short-shorts — Daisy Duke short.

“No, ma’am. No, ma’am! Head right on back up those stairs and put on some more clothes, young lady! What in the name … Have you lost your mind? Davie Boy, you let her dress like this? Showing her business to the world? You will march right up those stairs and find something else to wear.”

Starla rubbed her temples and sighed a great sigh. Her head throbbed. She needed a drink. Davie Boy’s voice snapped her back into focus.

“You know I can’t do anything with her, Starla. Since June died, Chloe’s been acting out — talkin’ back, breakin’ curfew, smoking weed — ”

“She’s been doing what? Aw, hell no! Leave her here with me. She can help me with the B & B and the flower shop. Don’t you fret, Davie Boy. Things’ll be back in order around here soon. Just you wait and see.”

Chloe descended the stairs just as her aunt finished her speech. This time, she had on a mini-skirt, a halter top, and some thigh-high boots.

“Davie Boy, go get me that vodka and some ibuprofen.”

Starla shook her head in disbelief, tutted the air between her teeth, and shot her niece a devil-filled stare.

“Tomorrow. I’ll deal with you tomorrow.”

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

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