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Down To The Wire
Nov. 20th, 2008 09:49 amOne more day.
For most of the people in this office, apparently.
Almost everyone is starting the Thanksgiving vacation early, bittersweet.
Luckily, we will get paid for vaction and holiday time.
Our last paychecks will be live, and will be mailed out next Wednesday. I'll get mine in the mail when Adam and I come home next Saturday, after Thanksgiving.
My application for individual health coverage for December was accepted. They didn't list any of my illnesses in their pre-existing conditions list. I've stocked up on all my drugs anyway; I'll have pills well into March. Come January, I'll sign up for my new employer's health plan and it'll be good.
I still dislike the health care system in this country, but fuck, it's what we've got.
One of the lawyers here got a job at the firm where I'll be going. I like him. It'll be nice to see a familiar face at the new place.
My brain is splintered and everywhere. Foggy, too. I can't think of words. Mild aphasia is frequent when you have neurological illnesses. Last night I kept forgetting phrases I had spoken or heard seconds before, kept substituting other words that made no real sense.
When we come back from vacation, we help Jason move out and started deciding what to do with the empty space. Adam wants to turn the room into a den, convert the living room into a dining room and sitting room. I'll definitely want Charlotte's help with this.
The office is so quiet. Everyone is cheerful and calm and supportive and sympathetic, but there is that air of stress and sadness and worry and uncertainty. I wish I knew what to say, other than "I'm sorry."
(Saying you're sorry is basically expressing sorrow and empathy for another's pain. "I am filled with sorrow for your pain." I recently learned this. It doesn't mean apology in this instance. I hadn't known that. I feel better about saying it now that I know it doesn't always mean apology.)
For most of the people in this office, apparently.
Almost everyone is starting the Thanksgiving vacation early, bittersweet.
Luckily, we will get paid for vaction and holiday time.
Our last paychecks will be live, and will be mailed out next Wednesday. I'll get mine in the mail when Adam and I come home next Saturday, after Thanksgiving.
My application for individual health coverage for December was accepted. They didn't list any of my illnesses in their pre-existing conditions list. I've stocked up on all my drugs anyway; I'll have pills well into March. Come January, I'll sign up for my new employer's health plan and it'll be good.
I still dislike the health care system in this country, but fuck, it's what we've got.
One of the lawyers here got a job at the firm where I'll be going. I like him. It'll be nice to see a familiar face at the new place.
My brain is splintered and everywhere. Foggy, too. I can't think of words. Mild aphasia is frequent when you have neurological illnesses. Last night I kept forgetting phrases I had spoken or heard seconds before, kept substituting other words that made no real sense.
When we come back from vacation, we help Jason move out and started deciding what to do with the empty space. Adam wants to turn the room into a den, convert the living room into a dining room and sitting room. I'll definitely want Charlotte's help with this.
The office is so quiet. Everyone is cheerful and calm and supportive and sympathetic, but there is that air of stress and sadness and worry and uncertainty. I wish I knew what to say, other than "I'm sorry."
(Saying you're sorry is basically expressing sorrow and empathy for another's pain. "I am filled with sorrow for your pain." I recently learned this. It doesn't mean apology in this instance. I hadn't known that. I feel better about saying it now that I know it doesn't always mean apology.)
