Last August I struggled to get through work on the days surrounding the anniversary of my husband’s death. My boss, a former social worker, was very understanding but suggested that I might want to take some time off around that anniversary this year.
In March I put in for a week off from August 15 through August 19. With the two weekends, that would give me 11 days for a nice break.
At first I had plans to go away for a few days. With some canceled clients and cutting back my schedule in May and June, that no longer seemed feasible.
So I decided on a Staycation.
I scheduled some important doctor visits. One was for my physical, and as the time crept closer I had some concerns I wanted to go over with my doctor. When it was time for that appointment, her office called to change the date.
On Tuesday I had my teeth cleaned and examined. I’m going to need some work due to damage from dry mouth, caused by medications. They can’t get me in until January to get the work done.
I had a meeting at church on Tuesday afternoon. We’re planning some fun curriculum and met to get things set in motion.
I had the sniffles, but on Wednesday it turned into sinus congestion and aches and pains.
I took two Covid tests later that night and both were positive.
The second one was to confirm the first one because I was hoping it was wrong.
Before I knew it was Covid I’d had lunch with my sister who’d taken me to town to put my paperwork in. I didn’t feel like driving that morning. I blamed it on the stress of it being the date that my husband had his work accident, but it also might have been the fact that I was not feeling well physically.
So that led to cancellation of plans on Thursday. I was scheduled for a routine doctor appointment in the “city” and another sister and I planned a day of thrift store shopping around my appointment. I had to cancel all of it.
I also had to cancel my haircut, which I desperately need and had set up for Friday afternoon.
Originally I wanted to do something memorable with my three adult children in honor of their dad. Instead, we got takeout from Pizza Hut, which was his favorite place to eat. My oldest son doesn’t live with me and in order not to be exposed to Covid, he dropped off our order.
My younger son and daughter were exposed before I knew I had it, and they’d had it in the spring (I had too, but it had been a mild case). They fortunately didn’t get sick.
It wasn’t the vacation I’d hoped for.
It wasn’t the stress-free time I’d been looking forward to.
I was due to return to work on Monday, August 22. But I ended up in the ER with chest pain and congestion instead. Things were normal in the Xray but they gave me a steroid for the inflammation and an inhaler. The doctor also recommended I not return to work until Wednesday and my boss agreed.
I canceled Tuesday clients, and one was angry enough about all the rescheduling and missed appointments that he canceled service. I couldn’t have done anything differently.
Tuesday afternoon my daughter had an appointment that she needed a driver for so I took her. I sat in the car and ran the AC intermittently with the windows down for short amounts of time. She was nearly an hour in the appointment.
Afterward, we went through the Taco Bell drive thru so she could get something and take some food home to her brother.
I pulled into a gas station to use the restroom and shut the car off. It wouldn’t restart.
After waiting a while, I called my son, and my brother, who both came. They jumped the car but it wouldn’t start. My brother is good at car work and said it was the starter. Since there was no way to get it home, I had it towed. My younger son paid the bill because I didn’t have money in the bank to cover a towing fee.
We got home around seven o’clock Tuesday night.
On Wednesday I contacted my clients to let them know I’d had Covid as a courtesy in case they didn’t want contact. They did want me to clean, so I worked for 3 hours yesterday.
When I called today’s clients to do the same, they all three requested that I not come to their houses today and would wait until next scheduled appointment.
To say I’m frustrated at this point would be putting it mildly. Each setback chips away at my faith a little. I’m stronger than I was at this time last year, but I feel like each day is a struggle right now. It has nothing to do with having bipolar disorder or depression, but it’s dealing with the problems that causes me to weaken and feel unsure of the future.
Even though I’m experiencing some problems with health/car/work, I’m making progress. I acknowledge there are things that are out of my control. I submit to the Lord, Who is present even in these difficulties.
I know He has a plan for my life. (Jeremiah 29:11).
I know that in all things He works together for my good. (Romans 8:28)
I know that even when I cannot see Him working, He knows the way that I take. And when I have been tested, I will come forth as gold. (Job 23:10)
Fortunately I have the support of family, friends and a boss who understands. I’m not where I’d hoped to be this week, but I am in the palm of the Father’s hand. He will never leave me nor forsake me. (Hebrews 13:5)