Hey! How are ya? Long time no talk (and other social niceties).
The truth is that I'm not doing so well. To say it's been a rough year is a bit of an understatement.
So if you feel like reading about a series of unfortunate events (not a book review) then read on as I take you down an introspect into my 2018.
It started out just like any other January. Working my butt off at my ultra exciting Phlebotomist job. I really can't complain. The patients are great, the danger pay is even greater and it seems to be something I'm extremely good at having only missed veins on a handful of patients since starting there. Until working three doubles in a row caused me to have TREMENDOUS pain in my knee. I immediately call for a doctor's appointment with the GP. He assesses, does x-rays, writes me off work and doing literally anything with my knee, figures it's a meniscus issue but, given my history, sends for a Rheumatology consult anyway. I wait a painstaking two months to see the Rheumatologist who proceeds to order an MRI, which (shocker!) shows non-specific inflammation. Long story short, I'm passed on to several other specialists who aren't even worth mentioning but ultimately I end up at a Sports Medicine Doc. Pallofemoral Pain Syndrome is the diagnosis. Orthotics, physical therapy and a specialized brace are the answer. About $1000 in uncovered medical costs and it's as good as it's gonna get.
March 27th, 11:43pm - A knock at the door. It's a police officer. He asks for my sister. My sister is 6 hours away at school. Actually he just wants to let her know her dad has died, they found her name in his apartment. She's my sister. Her dad is my dad.
My dad is dead.
Enter the whirlwind of telling my grandparents their eldest son is gone, funeral home consultations, emptying of his apartment, returning of the empties, sifting through the mountains of unpaid loans, returning the previously repossessed car, dealing with the family members who refuse to see the truth....
My father was an uncontrolled diabetic who had high cholesterol, high blood pressure and drank like it was 1920's prohibition era and he was the sole provider of bathtub gin. Needless to say, we weren't close. I lost my father when I was 12 years-old and he decided to
move out of my house and leave my mother, my sister and me. I've been grieving
for the father I had when I was young for 16 years. He was a very troubled man
and I will spend the rest of my life balancing on a tightrope of missing him
and trying not to be like him. I wish some others could see the truth.
I'm currently off on stress/sick/dealing with the mess my father left me leave. I'm hoping to be more active and write more on here about the other things I have been experiencing health wise as of late.
So that's my year in a nutshell. How's yours been?
Keep Smiling :)
- Kylee.
