Because Dave A. asked for elaboration
So again, as background, I'm the kind of person- or I WAS the kind of person- who'd go into work feeling like complete shit as long as as I wasn't shitting/puking/actively bleeding profusely. I called in sick about once per year tops. This year has been very different.
Last year I took off an entire month to go to Krazy Kamp. My suicidal fantasies had evolved to suicidal plans to "any day now." I've been doing a lot better from that standpoint.
However, I still am not handling stress very well and work continues to up the ante. In order to get more people in and out of the clinic ( a new rule that all have to be seen within 30 days), we have reduced evaluation appointments and new fitting appointments from 90 minutes to 60 minutes. I now have an assistant, which helps immensely (and she's a PEACH) but that means I am constantly running at work- rushing one person out as I'm rushing another in. This is not advisable when working with a population who is largely over 70, many of whom have extreme mental and physical handicaps. At the end of the day my brain is mush and I have a pile of reports to do when my brain is incapable of putting two sentences together. And generally I've had little time to pee, little time to hydrate, and have had only 15 minutes of my 30-minute lunch break (in a 10-hour workday, mind you).
Thursday morning I woke up with my urethra on fire and with a wicked case of nausea. Both the UTI thing and nervous nausea are things I can normally grit my teeth and bear. But I was already super stressed-out, hadn't slept the night before, and was on the edge of tears. I called into work and said I wouldn't be there. I had a pile of shit to do on my desk that I'd planned on going in before work to do. I'd told the carpool that I'd be driving myself that day for that very purpose. It's still sitting there. ( I have Fridays off).
I guess it would be more guilt-inducing (albeit more productive) had I used this "day off" to play hookey- go to the lake, kayak, do household chores, go see a matinee showing of the new Star Trek movie or ANY something relaxing. But my brain was so broken down that I just camped out on the sofa and stared. I didn't have the attention span to read, to watch a movie, to internet surf or anything. So I slept most of the day. And then slept all night.
On one hand I feel like the VA deserves it- for setting goals that end up causing poor patient care and employee burnout but on the other hand I feel I should maintain my work ethic- my integrity- no matter what.
But this was a true illness. I've gotten to the point that if my stress thermometer breaks the glass at the top, I lose it. And I'm not good at preventing it from getting to that point when I'm in the moment.
Last year I took off an entire month to go to Krazy Kamp. My suicidal fantasies had evolved to suicidal plans to "any day now." I've been doing a lot better from that standpoint.
However, I still am not handling stress very well and work continues to up the ante. In order to get more people in and out of the clinic ( a new rule that all have to be seen within 30 days), we have reduced evaluation appointments and new fitting appointments from 90 minutes to 60 minutes. I now have an assistant, which helps immensely (and she's a PEACH) but that means I am constantly running at work- rushing one person out as I'm rushing another in. This is not advisable when working with a population who is largely over 70, many of whom have extreme mental and physical handicaps. At the end of the day my brain is mush and I have a pile of reports to do when my brain is incapable of putting two sentences together. And generally I've had little time to pee, little time to hydrate, and have had only 15 minutes of my 30-minute lunch break (in a 10-hour workday, mind you).
Thursday morning I woke up with my urethra on fire and with a wicked case of nausea. Both the UTI thing and nervous nausea are things I can normally grit my teeth and bear. But I was already super stressed-out, hadn't slept the night before, and was on the edge of tears. I called into work and said I wouldn't be there. I had a pile of shit to do on my desk that I'd planned on going in before work to do. I'd told the carpool that I'd be driving myself that day for that very purpose. It's still sitting there. ( I have Fridays off).
I guess it would be more guilt-inducing (albeit more productive) had I used this "day off" to play hookey- go to the lake, kayak, do household chores, go see a matinee showing of the new Star Trek movie or ANY something relaxing. But my brain was so broken down that I just camped out on the sofa and stared. I didn't have the attention span to read, to watch a movie, to internet surf or anything. So I slept most of the day. And then slept all night.
On one hand I feel like the VA deserves it- for setting goals that end up causing poor patient care and employee burnout but on the other hand I feel I should maintain my work ethic- my integrity- no matter what.
But this was a true illness. I've gotten to the point that if my stress thermometer breaks the glass at the top, I lose it. And I'm not good at preventing it from getting to that point when I'm in the moment.