sixlessthansixty

My family has had the worst streak of luck for the past several weeks and it's stolen my attention.

My sister got into a car wreck, my granddad got put into the hospital for a few days which sparked a passive aggressive facebook war among my family (apparently saying that his condition is improving is a bad thing), I've been working, and I've been in a bad mental state.

quick reminder that you don't have to be suicidal to be depressed.

you don't have to experience frequent panic attacks to have an anxiety disorder.

you don't have to have an intake of 300 calories to have an eating disorder.

you don't have to repeat all your actions 10 times to have OCD.

you don't have to be the poster child of a mental illness in order to be affected by one.

I love my job, I really do.

But sometimes I have nights where I think: holy shit they expect me to do what?

For the past several days I've been working the specimen processing desk. I've gotten pretty good at fielding phone calls, sending specimens to where they need to go, running ESR's, making slides, finding samples and answering general questions. I feel pretty comfortable there despite having to stand the entire time (ow!).

Tonight I was suddenly moved back to the coagulation bench, which is no big deal. I've been trained there, once I get back into the swing of things I'll be okay. 2 minutes in I get a STAT heparin. Fuck. I haven't ever had to run one of those. SO I had to have the procedure manual open and run through it as quickly as possible (and still be correct) while running regular samples (and it was panic value city up there, jeezus) and dealing with a 2SD failure in one of my controls for the heparin (which needed to be fixed before I could do the patient).

I managed to get it done--while in a minor panicked frenzy.

Then I had to cover my own bench plus the urinalysis bench while half the staff went for a dinner break (which was like the LONGEST BREAK EVER OMS) and that got hectic.

But I managed.

AND THEN. I had to do the weekly maintenance on the STA4. The STA4 is an ancient analyzer that we use only when hell itself gets frosty. I have never been able to operate this thing. I spent 3 and a half hours trying to make it work, and I'll admit, I got flustered but I didn't cry like I did last time so yay? and had to beg an older tech for help. Of course it worked perfectly for her.

UGH.

My Dad got into an accident this morning at 5am. He had gone out with his brother to have some drinks and play pool, bro stuff, the night before. 

Normally when I'm home I stay awake until the whole family is home (Jess working late, Dad going out, Mom getting called out). That night I dozed off and woke up at 3am. I assumed everyone was home and went to bed.

At 6am my mother comes screaming into my room, in the throes of a full-scale panic attack asking where my sister was, where my Dad was. I had no idea. My phone hadn't rung. She was calling Dad's phone with no answer. Ditto my uncle's phone. Ditto Jess' phone. Ditto her friends' phone. Mom and I assumed Jess was at a friend's house after work and forgot to check in. 

We assumed Dad got into another wreck. 

I pulled on clothes, Mom was already dressed, and we opened the garage door to get in my car (it was pouring raining outside) and there it was.

My Dad's truck.

On the back of a tow truck with the front end completely destroyed. 

In that moment, I was brought back to two years ago when he got in the wreck that nearly killed him (twice). I felt sick and faint. I couldn't think. I remembered seeing the blue truck smashed into pieces, Dad in the ER, Dad getting heart surgery, Dad almost dying.

Then he got out of the cab of the tow truck and got his things from the ruined mess of his truck cab. The relief was immediate. He was alive, walking, okay. Jess was at a friend's house. Okay. 

He says he hydroplaned on the wet road. Mom thinks he was tired from being out all night and nodded off behind the wheel again. 

I almost lost my Dad again. It hasn't even been 3 years. He could have died. 

And I feel like its my fault. If I had checked to make sure all the family was home, if I had just looked out the window to make sure all cars were accounted for. Maybe Mom could have called him and done something, convinced him to take a cab if he was tired/had been drinking or told him to stay with his brother. I could have picked him up. If I had just checked instead of going to bed then maybe things would have been different. 

Gods. 

Aw hell.

I have Good Days and Bad Days and then there are days like today where I'm just apathetic and I don't really remember how to feel. I'm just tired, weary down to my bones, and I don't want to be awake. I want to indulge in a bad habit, just to feel something other than tired. Something other than apathy.

I suppose it says something that I won't do it knowing it'll probably scare the shit out of my roommate (not sure what I look like but it's probably not pleasant). Not because it's bad for me, or I might die this time, or anything like that--I just don't feel like dealing with other people's reactions.

Maybe tomorrow will be a Good day.

Update:

Pagan music always cheers me up.