This month, my day job earned it's "evil" descriptor.
Part of my duties include unloading palettes of product from trucks. Part of my employers' duties include making sure I have the proper equipment to do my job. Our truck shipments come on standard-sized wooden palettes that you may have seen people around the Pinterest world turning into various DIY projects. The palettes are often poorly stacked, but this time the shipment had shelving and other items needed for a large reset.
These palettes were double the normal length. And we didn't have forklift extensions. Or a larger motorized lift to unload them. The only way I could get these items off the trucks were by using the motorized lift we did have to tow the palettes to the edge, because the driver didn't have any equipment either. And then it was a whole lot of improvising.
Did I mention the wind chill was below zero and all of this was taking place outside as well?
All in all it took three hours to unload everything. I had gloves with grip that were rated for below zero temps, so my hands were fine, but being that I work retail, my outfit was just regular jeans and tennis shoes. It was when I started to thaw out that I knew I'd hurt myself.
Pro-tip: even if you're used to stopping when something hurts, below zero wind chill makes it so you can't feel when it hurts.
I felt a tightening and slow building pain starting in my lower back and knew I'd screwed up. So I went right from work, to the doctor's. Oh, I finished my shift first, because my boss gets a bonus if we stay below a certain level of hours, and there was no one else to cover the floor. Let me tell you how much I appreciate that.
Anyway, I went to the medcheck designated by my work for workman's comp cases, and was in plastic chairs for three hours, waiting for them to make a diagnosis that I could have told them walking in. I went home with orders to rest, and loaded up with heavy duty muscle relaxers and pain pills.
If you've ever had an injury or been in a car wreck, you know that the day after you hurt yourself is when you really find out how bad you hurt yourself.
Fam...it was bad.
Turns out I'd been bruising the hell out of my legs because I couldn't feel them, so not only was I in extreme pain in my back, but I looked like I'd gotten some really poorly lined leopard spot tattoos all over my legs. My cat sitting on my lap was akin to torture.
So I did what the doc told me to do and took the medicine as prescribed.
Now. I've never done recreational drugs before. And after this past month I think I made the correct choice to steer clear of mind-altering substances. Because I think I spent the better part of this month roleplaying as a puddle. The muscle relaxers had me loopy and unable to form sentences. Either that or I was asleep. I don't think I saw more than half the day without the back side of my eyelids trying to slide in front of my view.
I was mad at my management. I was mad at the project planners. But what surprised me most was how mad I was at my own body for not being able to handle it. I run most everything around my house, and I ended up needing help with absolutely every task from laundry to dishes, to even pushing a grocery cart.
It took as much mental work as physical treatment to heal after this. And realizing my employer took not only time spent at doctors appointments away from me, but also the time spent healing really made me the most angry. I lost pretty much a month of my life, and despite being on severe limitations, I had to show up to work and work within my restrictions or I wouldn't get paid.
I'm finally able to handle being out of bed without pain or being stupefied with drugs. I was finally able to follow along enough to read a book again the past two days. But most importantly...I was able to start writing again.
Not gonna lie, I had to strip down to the bare minimum of social media. Bless Twitter for giving my brain short snippets of contact with the outside world. Because anything else...I just wasn't up to it. And I've seen enough authors stick a whole leg in their mouths that I pulled back from everything to make sure I didn't do something stupid online while on muscle relaxers.
You might be asking yourselves right now, "Okay, Roxy. This sounds awful. Why don't you quit?"
Y'all...momma needs her days off.
I've been talking to brick walls for years letting my superiors know that the way they are running things is not safe, and someone is going to get hurt. I work with some young kids, so I'm almost glad it was me and not them. I'm hoping that I raised enough of a stink about it, and racked up enough follow up visit doctor's bills that these folks are going to finally take notice and make some changes.
But I can tell y'all what...
This bitch right here isn't unloading reset trucks anymore. I'm going to be up at the front asking if you want the receipt with you or in the bag and waiting for the next person to make the "it didn't scan, so it must be free" joke.
Now that my head's clear, it's time to jump back into my life.
Missed you guys. Let's talk about something more fun next time. How about periods? ;p