Forensic Scientist

I don't know how they found out, but ever since I became unemployed I've been stalked by Forensic Scientists. They lurk in my Spam. Sometimes as many as five await there, like they know "Hey, she's unemployed and desperate she's going to check her spam to see if there is an answer to all her online resumes." They are correct. Daily I check the spam area of my e-mail, hoping that something was sent there accidentally. The minute I open it, there they are "Forensic Scientist wanted!" Sometimes as many as five e-mails. Who knew there was such a shortage of Forensic Scientists? Are bodies just piling up in morgues? Morticians standing there helpless, because the bodies have not been examined by their local Forensic Scientists. Turning to bereaved families and saying "I'm sorry, you'll have to postpone the burial. The Forensic Scientist hasn't arrived and for all we know you murdered your dearly departed."

In moments of unemployed panic I find myself eyeing those e-mails. I see myself in a white lab coat, with a deerstalker cap looking down at the body as a breathless assistant watches my superior deductive skills.

"Why its quite obvious! See the dent on his right middle finger? Obviously he was old school and used a number 2 pencil to work. Showing a mathematician of some renown, due to his expensive haircut. No, I'm quite sure this is not a case of brain fever, but of murder most foul!"

Then, I see myself: a large woman dressed in white, something I didn't even wear at my wedding. Standing before a cadaver with the unpleasant knowledge that I am to cut the poor person open. Quickly I hit the delete to send the Forensic Scientists into cyber space. I also note that I'm reading just a tad to much Sherlock Holmes.

When no one is awake

I got up with my husband at 4:30AM this morning. This is not unusual, I usually wake up with him, have breakfast, pack his lunch and hang out till he leaves. I love best when he works his early shift, because it gives me a reason to be up at this time. I have always had jobs that start early in the morning. Even in college where I worked at a coffee shop, I was the opening person. I love early morning hours, times when no one else is around. I like the silence, the thoughtfulness of the dawn. I like the feeling that I am up and about, doing something useful, while others sleep. It's the ultimate private time. Before the weight of a day of words gets to me. I guess it is a time of weightlessness, a time where there is no pressing needs. I looked up on the computer thesaurus's to find another word for early: it came up with "youthful, first and before time". I think these all describe how I feel in the dark of a winter's morning.

At this hour, I give myself the peace to just move around in a sleepy body. A body so grateful for that first cup of coffee that the smell and taste is almost better than any meal I could eat. The first moment when I put my dog outside, standing in the door, inhaling the air made alive by its coolness. Feeling a Christmas thrill when I'm greeted with fog. I love the way clouds wrap the world. The warmth of house lights as they diffuse across the mist, and I love the feeling of the moisture as the mist settles on my skin feeling like the soft breath of the planet. A lot of my friends and my husband think I'm crazy for getting up early. That's okay, because right now, in this dark time, I'm alone, drinking coffee and totally myself.

Job Search

Job Search: two words that separately mean work and looking, but together mean joy and despair. When I finally find that dream looking job that matches my credentials I feel so much joy. I'm thinking 'Hey, look at this! I would be perfect for this job!' I send out the resume and cover letter thinking 'I'll hear from this place.' Then, despair, I don't hear from the place and then I get to go through all the phases of death: anger 'they don't know what they are missing', denial 'their process might just take longer, maybe I'm still in the running' and finally acceptance 'okay, let's see what's on jobdango today!'

In my head I understand that with a 10% unemployment rate, my job search is going to take a while. In my heart, I'm still frightened and feeling profoundly unemployed. I wonder if my dog can sense this? At moments when I stare blankly at the computer, feeling slightly depressed, Giger shows up and starts pawing at me. Her eyes seem to say "hey, stop staring at the bright shiny box, let's go for a walk!" Dog's are brilliant that way, they understand the power of the walk. So, on goes the leash and off we go, Giger to sniff and me to clear my mind, work out my screenplays, and of course, the occasional win the lotto fantasy.

I have turned into veal.

Last August my doctor told me to stop exercising, something you don't hear out of doctors mouths. In this case, any exercise brought on a period or made the existing one worse. By the end, I could only take my dog for a short walk. Then came surgery, and I was pretty much stationary from December 2nd until January 8th. The first exercise I did was to make our bed, this made me so tired I laid right down for a nap. Seriously, major surgery takes the energy right out of a person!

After I was laid off, I knew it was time to start building myself back up. Now, I've never been thin, or slender, or anything approaching those words. I have considered myself fit and fat. Now I lost the fit! I decided that with all the time I had I needed to organize my days. I began to take my dog out for daily walks. Walks are perfect if you are a writer, the fresh air really helps get the cobwebs out. Plus I can think as I stroll around the park, and my dog loves me. Talk about win/win. Then came phase II; if I was ever going to build back up, I needed to get in and work my muscles.

Joy from Prananda yoga studio got me one of her "hip opening" DVD's. Which is perfect, because after you let someone take a knife and a staple gun to your abdomen; you have to regain the trust of your muscles. My muscles were all locked up in fight or flight mode.

The first time I used the DVD I loved it. The woman who demonstrated the modified poses really looks like she needs all the props. So often with a yoga DVD, the people who do the modified poses are in perfect shape, and you can see them "pretending" to need the bricks, or straps, or blankets. On Joy's tape the woman is older, and you can practically see her thinking "where the hell is my strap".

I, of course, need straps, blocks, blankets and pillows to hit most of the poses. Basically, I look like I'm gift wrapping myself; but after the DVD, I feet better. I'm realizing that to get through this bout of unemployment I've got to have some areas of my life under control; even if I have to lasso myself with a yoga strap to do it!

*I recommend the hip opening DVD and Prananda yoga studio to anyone; especially folks who are a little shy about starting. The classes are small and there is a gentle stretching class on Saturday mornings that is amazing. I've put Prananda yoga studio link on this site. Check them out!

What to do first?

The first day of my not having a job was very strange. I got up with my husband, had breakfast, kissed him goodbye and then...there I was...at home. I went to work on the computer and within a hour I had: signed up for unemployment, updated my resume and sent a copy off to the recruiter. I got an e-mail back from my recruiter, thanking me for my pro-active nature and warning me that things are rough in Oregon, and I was probably in for a long job search. I decided to go out grocery shopping after that jolly note.

Over the past month, as I healed from surgery, I went out grocery shopping a proud woman. I had a job, I was on disability and I was healing. The first day shopping unemployed, completely different experience. I found myself looking at other shoppers, wondering why they were here during the day? Did they work weird shifts? Or were they like me?

I watched a group of four old women, I'm guessing the youngest was in her early 70's and I found myself loving them. Here were women who had seen so many changes in their lifetime, raised families, maybe worked outside the home on top of that, and they had survived. I overheard them trying to find "Whip cream" in the freezer aisle, I guessed they meant Cool Whip and told them where it was located. They thanked me and moved away, each with a hand on the one shopping cart they shared; an old women parade with the cart as a float. I figured if they could make it, I could make it. I also decided I was thinking to much and needed to get home and work on my script.

The following Tuesday, myself and my friend Joy went to a coffee shop to watch the inauguration of Barack Obama. It was so amazing to be surrounded by folks from every age group, clustered around a TV with a slightly blurry picture. We had to adjust the rabbit ears every once and awhile, but it felt great to be a part of a group. All together, all watching this historic moment. I cried, like everyone else and felt proud. I also had a moment where the most frightened part of me looked at the new president and thought "Help me. Please, help me." I wonder if he felt all the folks looking to him for change, hoping he could make it better, and I wonder if he had a moment and thought "I don't know if I can do this."

We cleaned out our desks and hit the bar!

I had never been laid off from a job before. I remember sitting in our office and looking at my co-workers and saying "I don't know what to do!". Arthur, who had been laid off before simply said "It's easy, we are going to clean out our desks and go to a bar." It was only at the bar that we got to look at our packets that our company had given us. First, we were given all our vacation pay, and they also gave each of us a severance based on years worked. My boss had been incredibly kind and just said "This has nothing to do with any of your work, this is just because the economy has crashed." The worse part, is I completely understood.

Our department, though we did generate orders, did not actually price orders. In a bad economic time this would be the logical first place to cut expenses. I understood, but I was still miserable, I loved this job. My boss came over to give me a hug while I was trying to hold it together which of course meant I broke down. His son who runs the warehouse came in and gave me this huge hug and said that he would "pray for me". I knew he meant that from his heart, which of course made me break down, again. One of the inside sales guys let me know that he was sure if times got better that my company would come back to me with a job offer. The only reason 4 of us lost jobs that day was because of the awful economic times. All I knew is that for the first time in my life I was about to be on unemployment!

After a couple of beers I left to go home, when I got into my car Talk of the Nation was on and the announcer said "We want to hear from you about how this down turn in our economy is effecting your life." I swore at the radio as I snapped it off. I got home and called my support system: my sisters, my friends and waited for my husband to come home. When Steve walked in, completely worried because I had beat him home I told him the news. He responded in his usual great way, he said; "you're not completely healed from your hysterectomy and you want time to work on your screenplays. Now you can do both, and you'll get unemployment. I have the feeling that this is all going to turn out for the best." And that ladies and gentlemen is why I married Steve.

And the New Year begins

December went by in a drug induced flash...if you can have anything as quick as a flash happen while on drugs. I stayed four days in the hospital, I was located in one of those sweet birthing rooms complete with flat screen TV. According to my doctor "As far as I'm concerned you had a cesarean and gave birth to tumors so you get to stay here." My family and friends came to visit, my boss stopped by with flowers and the nurses gave me a running tally on how many babies were born each day.

My doctor had warned that due to my long surgery I was going to feel like "two buses had hit me". She was right. On the second day I was determined to get up and walk. The nurses held out the carrot "if you walk to the bathroom we'll take out the catheter". I stood and for one moment, I honestly thought 'I can't do this', but then I felt the catheter and I slowly started moving toward the bathroom. Another nurse said, "if you can eat something we can take out the IV's, do you want to try some toast now...do you want to wait?" All I could see was the door to the bathroom so I responded with, "Bring the toast, I want to balls it out!" The nurses both cracked up and mentioned that the phrase "balls it out" had never been used in a birthing room before.

The rest of December was a blur of painkillers and trying to move around my house enough to begin to build up my strength. Oregon had the worst snow storm in several years an the snow stuck around for two weeks, including a white Christmas. I kept thinking, 'what great timing! I hate driving in the snow and here I am stuck at home!' I couldn't write, my mind was too muddled, but slowly I was feeling better.

I returned to work on Thursday, January 8th. I was greeted with choruses of "welcome home", it was great to be back. I saw this new year rolling out before me: here is a job I love with people I really liked, there would be no more pain or periods and I would never have to worry about pregnancy again! It was like my own little version of the sixties, without the fear of STD's. My husband and I got a life of consequence free sex! If that wasn't enough, Barack Obama was elected! I set up writing goals for myself and got ready to start a great year.

The following Monday, January 12th my whole department was laid off.

What I wrote two weeks before surgery

My uterus is being removed in less than two weeks. I’ve decided to try a “visualization” about its removal and what that means. I’ve never had a planned surgery, when my ankle broke there was nothing to decide. You lay there with a bone out of your body and it’s pretty much a done deal, you are going under the knife. This hysterectomy is different.

For the past 9 months a fibrous tumor has been changing the way my uterus behaved. All these years I’ve had regular periods, though never that pleasant, I’ve rather enjoyed having my periods. It was time when I could hold my head up and eat chocolate, a time when I knew that a month truly was complete, and my own personal “bitch” time with no apologies. Stay out of my way, I’ve got the curse, I’m on the rag, I’m fertile God damn it.

This year, my periods became increasingly painful, my husband would stand over the bed while I curled into the fetal position and chant “you’ve got to go to the doctor, make an appointment tomorrow”. The fact that I couldn’t uncurl to throw something at him finally made me call my gynecologist.

As I described the symptoms, bleeding for more than a week, increase pain my doctor nodded and said: “I’m sure you have a fibrous tumor”. She scheduled and ultrasound for the next morning. That night the pain was so bad I had began to vomit. Thank God, I’ve known this doctor for over 10 years, the minute I called she told me to “get to the hospital”, my husband was already dressed with car keys in hand as I awaited permission from my doctor to admit to the pain. In my family pain was a natural side effect of childhood. If I let my father see me cry I felt he had won. This has carried over to the point that if I think I might need to go to a doctor, I’m probably into pneumonia or I have a bone hanging out of me. People who love me watch me for these symptoms.

Now I sit here, a week out from my surgery, wanting to get it over with, and a little afraid. So, I’ve decided to do this visualization: I am picturing that tumor as a dumpster. You know the big dumpster that appears on your block when a neighbor is having their house re-roofed. You notice that the house is empty; they probably went to the beach while the roof is being worked on, and it’s the weekend and no workers are around. You’ve got a couple “big things” lying around the house, not enough to make up a load to take to the dump, but too big to put in your own garbage can. So, you look at the dumpster, and you realize “Damn, they didn’t lock it”.

I’m loading that dumpster tumor up with the pain from my childhood, I’m tossing in the broken ego that keeps tangling around my new and fragile one I’ve created over my grown life. I’m tossing in the nightmares that still lurk and occasionally attack my sleep, leaving me sweating and gasping for my waking life. I’m throwing in my inner critic who has pointed out that she doesn’t like this analogy. Finally, I’m tossing in the part of me that gives up on myself, the part of me that whispers “why bother” the side of me that wants to sit quietly so no one will notice who I really am. I do not need to protect myself that way anymore. I stand back, slightly hot and sweating from carrying these loads and sneaking them into this dumpster.

Then I run back to my house, keep the lights out and giggle at my renegade dumping ways. I’ll watch when they take that dumpster away, and I will breathe a sigh of relief, to have gotten rid of all that shit, and for once not had to pay a dime. I look around and breathe in the new clean space, and I will fill it with things of beauty.

I know there will be pain after the surgery. I know that my life will be profoundly different, but I feel that this will be in a good way. So, I will sit on my couch, take my pain killer, watch all the Jane Austin movie adaptations I just bought from Amazon, and giggle about that overloaded dumpster that got removed from my neighborhood. Good bye

Background

By September of last year I was still having a period that began in July. I had also nicknamed the tumor Hector aka Rosemary's Baby. My doctor tried everything, but was unable to stop the periods or the pain. She looked at me and said: "What ever happened to that nice little uterus I knew." She agreed that it was time for a hysterectomy and we set a date in December.

To help the time go by, I had a uterus coming out party. I figured it was time to celebrate Hector's demise. I kicked my husband out of the house and invited my girlfriends over to a night of wine, whiskey and chocolate cake. My very creative friend Dana, brought over walnuts (which were approximately the size of my tumor) and with glue, string, various fabric and funny eyes, we set out to make our own interpretation of what my tumor looked like. When my husband returned at one O'clock he found about a dozen little Hectors on the table staring up at him.

By December 2nd I was ready for my hysterectomy. My doctor assured me that morning that "One way or another, that uterus is coming out today!" My doctor tried to take my uterus out vaginally, but the damn thing wouldn't budge. So an hour and a half into the surgery she had to switch to cutting me open. The operation took around 3 hours, but it was out! When the results came back from pathology I had a total of 4 non-cancerous tumors in my uterus. Seems Hector was having his own party.

How the hell do you do this?

Okay, I'm working on my first blog attempt. I've gone through the whole "its so easy" thing and am now writing. I'm going to follow my own process as I work on my screenplays and figure out my life in this new year. I voiced to my husband that I would like to blog, so he pulled up all the information to help inspire me i.e. called my bluff.

My life over the past year has changed a lot. At the beginning of the year I worked in a bakery that was in a natural foods grocery store, I was the manager and wrote on the side. I was the primary money earner for several years while my husband went to school. We decided that once he had finished school, it would be my turn to get a new job, one not so physically demanding, and hopefully, one that would give me time to write. Though I loved baking and the people, after a 8-9 hour day of hefting 50 lbs flour bags and hand forming artisan breads, I had very little energy at the end of the day to write. Plus I had Sunday and Monday off, so my husband and I only got 1 day off together.

In August of 07 my husband finished school and got a job In January of 08, I started to look for new work I wasn't sure what kind of job I could get, I just knew I wanted something with regular hours and weekends off to spend with my husband. I lucked into a recruiter who looked at my resume and put me forward for a job doing customer development for a stainless steel and aluminum distribution center. All I had to do was call existing customers and see if they needed anything and research new customers. I started work in March of 2008. The job was wonderful and so were the people.

Its funny but I could be more myself at this job then working in the natural grocery store. Here I could talk about shooting guns, canning foods, writing and generally just be myself. At the natural grocery store I kept a lot to myself, particularly things like enjoying shooting guns. The other amazing thing about this job was "paid holidays!" I was in retail for 14 years so I never knew about such a thing as having the Fourth of July off paid, or Memorial Day or almost any other holiday. I did have Christmas Day off and Thanksgiving Day, but the amount of work in a bakery before major food holidays left me pretty dang tired.

Working at the stainless steel place was amazing! Not only could I talk about guns, I actually called local gun manufacturers and set up accounts with a couple. I got to speak to folks in aerospace so the geek side of my nature got nurtured. I had a whole hour lunch in which I could work on my writing, and if this wasn't enough I wasn't tired at the end of the day AND I left the job at work! No late night calls from sick workers, no worries about production levels. This job was pretty much heaven to me!

The new job was great, time off with my husband was great, then in June I started to have some pretty bad periods. The pain got worse and worse, till my Doctor finally suggested an ultrasound so they could look for fibrous tumors. That night, after my doctor's appointment, I was hospitalized because the pain was so bad. Seems like my very sensible body decided to get rid of the tumor. Basically, I went into labor while my body struggled to expel the tumor. The tumor was located in my uteruin lining, so it was the equivalent of my body trying to turn itself inside out.

I was worried about talking to my new boss about this, he's a great guy, but here I was in a more male dominate environment having something this intensely female happen to me. I went into the office of my boss with my note from the hospital, he looked at me and said "I had a female friend, she had something similar, it was fibrous tumors." I smiled and said "Exactly". My boss nodded and he said "I got it, we don't have to talk about it anymore, whatever you need to do. Don't worry about a thing, just take care of yourself."