March has not been as smooth as I hoped it would be…As some of you may know I switched jobs to accommodate my health. I took a job as a “front desk” girl for a local pharmacy, and honestly I am more miserable then when I was running around in the blazing, southern heat.
Dear Boss Man,
Today when you told me that I needed to leave my phone at home, and that when I see you and boss lady on your phones, it’s because you come to work early and leave late. I was angry, but I can’t fault you for lack of education.
When you said my phone had no place at work, I know you don’t realize that I was emailing my CF team. Because, eternally I was panicking about the cancer patient that was just a customer at the counter.
I know that when you told me that you come to work earlier than me and stay later that you don’t realize that I have hours of therapy and medications.
Although I want so badly to be angry with you, I can’t. I understand. To you I am just another millennial on my phone. If you had only given me a chance to explain…I would have told you that I nearly had a panic attack, when that cancer patient walked. She was sick, and boss lady assured her that no one was sick…but I am. I moved as far away from the counter as I could without being obvious. I held my breath. I know I have potent germs, maybe not for you, but for her…I could kill her with my germs.
When you told me to get off my phone, I was communicating with my CF team, including my mom (she is a huge part of the team). I was curious about what precautions I could take and what risks I was putting myself and other immune compromised patients in. I was getting educated, because education never stops.
And finally Mr. Boss Man, you don’t know that I am about to start an experimental drug that will compromise my health. You don’t understand the risk I am taking. I need to keep everyone informed. One mistake, one cough, one misdiagnosed runny nose can literally be an end all.
See Mr. Boss Man, I came to this job because of my CF. I had every avenue planned. My doctors were on board with my “career” change. This is something you can only learn first hand, even when you thank you have planned for everything… expect a plot twist.
So no Mr. Boss Man, I won’t leave my phone at home, it does belong in the work place, because Cystic Fibrosis is my job. My job is to communicate with my team. My job is to be educated. My job is to stay healthy. My job is to live.