I Blame Bob
Within the last 24 hours I have become gravely ill. My throat is swollen so badly I can barely swallow. I woke up yesterday feeling that foreboding scratchiness, the morbid effect of millions of minute viruses destroying my healthy cells. Today, I've started sneezing, which creates unbearably painful recoil in my throat.
As embarrassing as this is, many jobs and years ago I was a manager for Bob Evans. Hey, I needed money! Anyway, this entailed a rigorous 14 week training program, 3-4 tests a week, 13 hour shifts a day. I traveled to and from Elyria to Cleveland too! It was difficult to find time to study, but I was determined to ace the program. At the end of the training period, it was required that I travel to Columbus and spend four days at a seminar to take the final exams.
It was at this time that I became ill, with symptoms that mirror the ones I have today. After investing so much time into my job training, there was no time to see a doctor before shuffling off to southern Ohio. If I missed the testing, I'd lose everything I had worked so hard for, and I was too afraid to say no. I'd get better, right?
I sat in these seminars, choking on my own phlegm and coughing relentlessly, drowning out the speakers. As my bronchitis progressed, I developed a constant high fever and my lungs became filled with fluorescent green bacteria. In spite of the pain and discomfort, I had earned the highest scores of the entire group, hopeful testers whose travels spanned from Maine to Florida. Ironically, this is how I became certified in food safety and sanitation, by taking tests on cross-contamination and bacterial diseases, with an acute infection in my lungs and sinuses. I still can't believe they didn't take me to a hospital.
When I came back to Cleveland, I passed out cold. I woke the next day and laid still in bed for about two minutes, praying I was better. I'm not a religious woman, but if ever there was a time I wanted the gods to hear me, it was now. Then the coughing began, violently ripping my throat open, blood and bacteria intermingling with fear. I sobbed uncontrollably as I called my doctor. I begged for help, I screamed for mercy. I quaked with the terror that I might never be well again. No, I'm not exaggerating.
After explaining my condition through teary eyes, my area director gave me five days off to recover. He's the one who told me this: once you have severe bronchitis you will always be prone to reinfection. Most people are afraid of cancer, but I am more terrified of bronchitis. I still have the paper with the test results, with "GREAT JOB DEB!" scrawled across it. But I don't think of it that way. It was a poor judgement call on my part, a hard way to learn that one's health has to be priority #1. It was the most painful condition I've ever endured.
I haven't been ill since last winter, which is a rather long stint for me. However, it's pretty obvious that this time it's going to be a really bad, and I'm once again praying to any god that will listen that I don't wind up with a lung infection. I'll have to spend an entire day at the free clinic, just to get an antibiotic prescription... yuck.
As embarrassing as this is, many jobs and years ago I was a manager for Bob Evans. Hey, I needed money! Anyway, this entailed a rigorous 14 week training program, 3-4 tests a week, 13 hour shifts a day. I traveled to and from Elyria to Cleveland too! It was difficult to find time to study, but I was determined to ace the program. At the end of the training period, it was required that I travel to Columbus and spend four days at a seminar to take the final exams.
It was at this time that I became ill, with symptoms that mirror the ones I have today. After investing so much time into my job training, there was no time to see a doctor before shuffling off to southern Ohio. If I missed the testing, I'd lose everything I had worked so hard for, and I was too afraid to say no. I'd get better, right?
I sat in these seminars, choking on my own phlegm and coughing relentlessly, drowning out the speakers. As my bronchitis progressed, I developed a constant high fever and my lungs became filled with fluorescent green bacteria. In spite of the pain and discomfort, I had earned the highest scores of the entire group, hopeful testers whose travels spanned from Maine to Florida. Ironically, this is how I became certified in food safety and sanitation, by taking tests on cross-contamination and bacterial diseases, with an acute infection in my lungs and sinuses. I still can't believe they didn't take me to a hospital.
When I came back to Cleveland, I passed out cold. I woke the next day and laid still in bed for about two minutes, praying I was better. I'm not a religious woman, but if ever there was a time I wanted the gods to hear me, it was now. Then the coughing began, violently ripping my throat open, blood and bacteria intermingling with fear. I sobbed uncontrollably as I called my doctor. I begged for help, I screamed for mercy. I quaked with the terror that I might never be well again. No, I'm not exaggerating.
After explaining my condition through teary eyes, my area director gave me five days off to recover. He's the one who told me this: once you have severe bronchitis you will always be prone to reinfection. Most people are afraid of cancer, but I am more terrified of bronchitis. I still have the paper with the test results, with "GREAT JOB DEB!" scrawled across it. But I don't think of it that way. It was a poor judgement call on my part, a hard way to learn that one's health has to be priority #1. It was the most painful condition I've ever endured.
I haven't been ill since last winter, which is a rather long stint for me. However, it's pretty obvious that this time it's going to be a really bad, and I'm once again praying to any god that will listen that I don't wind up with a lung infection. I'll have to spend an entire day at the free clinic, just to get an antibiotic prescription... yuck.