A bit of glee, finally!
I woke up to snow this morning - something I didn't think had been predicted. And it hadn't, really. But it was fluffy and pretty and not a lot. Enough to screw up some streets, but as I take the bus, it doesn't fuss me much.
I was fairly down this morning, but got my shit together and left for the bus. It was crowded and I sat way in the back. Up just behind where the bus is jointed, a young man was trying to get out of his backpack. It quickly became evident that he had cerebral palsy, or Huntington's or one of those horrible afflictions where he didn't have full control of his body. He was wearing a vinyl coat and the pack straps wouldn't slide off his arms. He'd struggle a bit and then his head would sort of bob around because he was getting agitated, so he'd stop. Then try again. After a couple of attempts, I wanted to yell, "Oh, for God's sake, will someone help him?" It wouldn't take much, just pull the pack strap off one arm.
I mean, yeah, I do understand that it's a bit... uncomfortable to see someone like that, but I don't think that most people realize that his mind is probably totally fine. He's not going to bite you and whatever it is, isn't contagious. And he seemed to settle to his fate. But when he started struggling again, I simply couldn't stand it. I put my own pack down and walked up the moving bus and slipped the strap off his arm. Took me all of two seconds.
When I got back to my seat, I got all weepy and stupid. I didn't want to go to work and while I certainly didn't help him for the good karma or anything like that, I hoped that my day might go better because of it. And no, I'm not an extra wonderful person or anything. I just... I don't know. I can't stand to see anything, human or animal, struggle. Every creature deserves dignity and respect. And dammit, I've gotten caught in my pack straps, especially when my bad arm was still weak and stiff, and people helped me with mine. It's just part of the whole public transport thing. You help people with their coats and shit. But life is harder for differently-abled people.
Anyway, apparently it worked. I got myself some coffee and felt less weepy and dumb and got on with my day. At the end of the day, Supervisor called me into her office. I was prepared for a scolding over the email drama of the previous day or some other stupid thing.
Nope, she's actually pleased with my progress with Ticky Box application. I told her I expected to be more or less current by the end of the week and I'd work over the weekend if necessary to be sure that happened. She said she'd be very pleased with that. Then she actually asked if the people who come to my office for help are distracting me too much from it and I said no. And I've been able to keep pace with most of my other stuff as well, she noted. She asked me what hours I was working and I told her I was working 10 and a half hours a day. And that I worked 8 hours over Thanksgiving weekend. She agreed that it was enough. Jesus Christ, it ought to be. Let me tell you ten and a half hours of ticky boxes is enough for anyone! Hell, it's a damn long day for anything.
So overall, it was a very good meeting with her and she seemed in good humor.
I don't feel entirely out of the woods just yet, but it's a big step in the right direction anyway.
I'm having drinks after work tomorrow with a friend. But no gin for me, because the creeping paranoia the next morning totally isn't worth it. I'll probably stick with a beer or two.
I was fairly down this morning, but got my shit together and left for the bus. It was crowded and I sat way in the back. Up just behind where the bus is jointed, a young man was trying to get out of his backpack. It quickly became evident that he had cerebral palsy, or Huntington's or one of those horrible afflictions where he didn't have full control of his body. He was wearing a vinyl coat and the pack straps wouldn't slide off his arms. He'd struggle a bit and then his head would sort of bob around because he was getting agitated, so he'd stop. Then try again. After a couple of attempts, I wanted to yell, "Oh, for God's sake, will someone help him?" It wouldn't take much, just pull the pack strap off one arm.
I mean, yeah, I do understand that it's a bit... uncomfortable to see someone like that, but I don't think that most people realize that his mind is probably totally fine. He's not going to bite you and whatever it is, isn't contagious. And he seemed to settle to his fate. But when he started struggling again, I simply couldn't stand it. I put my own pack down and walked up the moving bus and slipped the strap off his arm. Took me all of two seconds.
When I got back to my seat, I got all weepy and stupid. I didn't want to go to work and while I certainly didn't help him for the good karma or anything like that, I hoped that my day might go better because of it. And no, I'm not an extra wonderful person or anything. I just... I don't know. I can't stand to see anything, human or animal, struggle. Every creature deserves dignity and respect. And dammit, I've gotten caught in my pack straps, especially when my bad arm was still weak and stiff, and people helped me with mine. It's just part of the whole public transport thing. You help people with their coats and shit. But life is harder for differently-abled people.
Anyway, apparently it worked. I got myself some coffee and felt less weepy and dumb and got on with my day. At the end of the day, Supervisor called me into her office. I was prepared for a scolding over the email drama of the previous day or some other stupid thing.
Nope, she's actually pleased with my progress with Ticky Box application. I told her I expected to be more or less current by the end of the week and I'd work over the weekend if necessary to be sure that happened. She said she'd be very pleased with that. Then she actually asked if the people who come to my office for help are distracting me too much from it and I said no. And I've been able to keep pace with most of my other stuff as well, she noted. She asked me what hours I was working and I told her I was working 10 and a half hours a day. And that I worked 8 hours over Thanksgiving weekend. She agreed that it was enough. Jesus Christ, it ought to be. Let me tell you ten and a half hours of ticky boxes is enough for anyone! Hell, it's a damn long day for anything.
So overall, it was a very good meeting with her and she seemed in good humor.
I don't feel entirely out of the woods just yet, but it's a big step in the right direction anyway.
I'm having drinks after work tomorrow with a friend. But no gin for me, because the creeping paranoia the next morning totally isn't worth it. I'll probably stick with a beer or two.