I hate everything right now, with the exceptions of Mister E, Creme Eggs, and Calhoun. Even the jaunty tune my budgie is singing is irking me shitless.
You see, right now I should be chilling on the couch in preparation for going to work in the morning. As much as I want to use my coworkers for target practice, as much as I want to hide in the bathroom and do crossword puzzles, I believe in the work we do and we need money to eat. Unfortunately, our executive director is a lawyer.
While it doesn’t seem to bother her that we don’t have enough supplies to safely do our job, it does bother her that I have high blood pressure. According to her, I am a danger to the patients. Never mind that there are doctors and nurses with epilepsy and diabetes who go to work every day and have no problems, just like I haven’t had any problems other than the one time two weeks ago when I passed out. I went home, then visited the doctor who gave me a note saying I have no restrictions, changed my meds and sent me on my way.
This is not good enough. Work wants a letter from the doctor saying that I have high blood pressure, lists my medication and states that I’m not a danger to myself or others. A danger to myself or others because I have high blood pressure. Two other people at work have high blood pressure. One does not take medication. The other does take medication but also loads up on caffeine and junk food all day. I take my meds, eat properly, monitor my pressure and act accordingly. Apparently acknowledging and managing a disease makes you more of a liability than ignoring it and pretending everything is a-okay.
I worked for a large corporation known for being, well, corporation-like in their warmth and understanding. If I got a scratch, I had to go to Urgent Care and get a tetanus shot. Once, I passed out. They didn’t require anything other than my coming to work the next day. My doctor’s office says they’ll be happy to provide me with a release, but my doctor isn’t in until Wednesday, another doctor can’t do it, and I’m not allowed to come to work until I have it. I’m stuck sitting here on my tattooed ass because our society has gotten so fucking lawsuit-happy that I can’t go to work because I might have a blood pressure spike.
So instead of being at work tomorrow making the best of things I’m going to be sitting at home angry that my paycheck is going to be short two days and worried that they’re going to use this as an excuse to fire me. You can just imagine how wonderful all this is for my blood pressure.