Sunday, October 15, 2017

No Teasing

Yesterday morning brought clear blue skies and a complete lack of smoke in the air—a welcome surprise. Charlie and I went for a walk through our neighborhood.

I found this written note in my pile of little pieces of paper and I’m going to keep it until I remember what it means:
“Louise = bad with medical. Katrina = good with medical. Doesn’t like to be teased.”
What on earth does that mean? I don’t recognize either of the names.

This morning also featured blue skies and clear air, just as welcome as they were yesterday, but I am in a state of unease about my path forward. I really do not want to go to school, for one thing. In 1998, the question I asked myself, which led to 18 lucrative but not particularly fulfilling years in a cubicle, was, “How can I weasel my way into a tech job without getting any more education?”

During the past year of doing CPE, I assumed I would go to school starting next year, because I believed that chaplaincy was the answer to the question, “How can I support myself doing something that seems worthwhile?” and school is required for board certification.

But now I’m remembering that, before that, my question was, “What kind of job can I do that takes place in a hospital?” I ruled out being a physician, nurse, OT (occupational therapist), PT (physical therapist), ST (speech therapist), or administrative assistant. That left just one choice: chaplain! I moved toward this several times and then backed away when I remembered how much religion would be involved. I still feel uneasy about the religious aspects.

Today I got a call from Sam and was reminded of another job that takes place in a hospital: complaint department! It appears that, each year when the CPE program finishes, a few graduates go to work there, where they are welcomed for their unique skillset.

Several times it has crossed my mind that I might like to work part-time doing tech support. I like sitting in front of a computer. I like assisting a variety of people with whatever is bothering them. Today it strikes me that working in the complaint department of a hospital might be just the thing: I could sit in front of a computer, use my chaplain skills, talk to different people every day, and not have to go to school. I would also not have to continue to deplete my savings at a nauseating rate, which I’ve only been doing for a month but already don’t like.

I told Sam about my troubles with my boss at my new paying job and at first he said it sounds like she is really suffering and that he thought I should confront her and tell her how her words make me feel. This struck terror into my heart. But after I told him a  couple of things she said, word for word, he said, “Hmm, do you think there could be any truth to that?” and, “Oh, just ignore her. Let that roll off your back.”
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