It's Official. I'm whining.

06/17/10

It’s official, I’m whining.  The job I have been trying to land since April 13 has not yet been filled.  Human Resources says Hospice has my application, but Hospice is in the middle of a computer training class, and they have not returned my call from Tuesday asking them for an update.  I just left another message with them.  What’s up with professionals not returning phone calls?  It’s rude.  That’s the only word for it.  

Trying to land this job has been one of the most exasperating experiences in my life.  It has also been a tremendous disappointment.  I paid a $500.00 tuition to be reentered into nursing and get my license back, then I did a four week preceptorship with Hospice, during which I worked my ASS off for them (for free).  They wooed me, pursued me to come to work for them.  They sent the State Board of Nursing a glowing recommendation, and I had my license in a week.

The job finally showed up on the HR web site on May 21, and I applied that day.  That was nearly four weeks ago!

Life is hard enough around here without Clint, and this situation has me sliding back into the depression that has plagued me all my adult life.  It’s making me miss him more, making me angry again, making me bitchy, all the things I don’t want to be, all the things that are toxic to me.

Sure, I volunteer at the free clinic, but that is only a few hours a week.  I’m getting out with friends, but the sad fact is that I need to have some money coming in if I’m to continue that.  I haven’t been on a real budget in years, so watching every dollar is tiresome - if necessary - to me.

No, I am not headed for the poor house.  I have a nest egg, a sizable one, but I don’t want to dip into it.  I’m only 62, after all, and I plan to live a long time.  That money is for my old age, not for now.

I have resisted applying to work with any other Hospice organization, but I just made the decision to do that.  I made it as I wrote.  Medical Center is opening an inpatient facility, and my agreement with them was that I would apply for and take the shitty job that is home care nights and weekends and that nobody wants.  If I agreed to do that, they assured me a full time position in the inpatient facility.  I’m not sure I can trust them any more.

I’m going to apply at other places and then plan a dinner party for some of my friends, my close friends who will bring a bottle of wine or an appetizer.

I know I can do this, but it certainly is a roller coaster ride that keeps my head spinning and my spirits in jeopardy.  Hell, I have survived a year without Clint.  I can do anything..

(I burst into tears when I wrote that last sentence, and I had a hard time stopping.  I am really whining, and I'm going to whine and cry for a long as I want).