Since May Kings College Hospital as a Healthcare Support Worker had employed me. I was in my element and I loved it. I worked at Fetal medication units and the Fertility and that I adored every second I spent with every patient and each and my team. Everyday I would wake up at 5:00 a.m., have a two-hour commute to the hospital, then get into my uniform or get scrubbed into theater and work my butt off until 5:00 p.m. when my shift ended. It was hard, it was tiring, it was draining but it was amazing. After approximately three weeks at the unit I determine everything and then could remember the protocols of each treatment cycle. I found the location where I integrated and left so many friends. It was my dream and the step up for my career route.
But as I suppose you figured, it couldn’t last. I started getting drained and becoming fibro flares. But I started to show signs of troubles. I couldn’t hack it. Doctor’s orders left me hand in my opinion and depart as I was “unfit to do the job.” My unit and my staff were so comprehension (I guess they needed to be, we’re at the caring profession). They gave me an fantastic of cake and presents and as far as I was devastated that I would not be there anymore, I understood it was for the best.
Most people have their own lives fairly. For me, that’s quite clearly not the situation. I know what I need. I have aspirations and dreams that I believed I was on track. I wasn’t ready that my aims were once again having to be placed on hold for my sanity and my own health.
My first instinct when I realized that I needed to leave was to feel bloated. I kept thinking about how I would not be able to pay rent to my mother, I would not be able to save to get a mortgage, so I would not be able to take my boyfriend out, I would not be able to treat my little brother and that I would not be in a position to be independent. I didn’t and still don’t want to be dependent on anybody, therefore all I believed was focused guilt. I moved on the situations to my mother and boyfriend to receive guidance and mostly approval. For me, they wanted what was right for me and understood that sticking it out for even longer could be a detriment for me.
I knew down deep that the choice was for the best, as otherwise I would have worked my way to a hospital bed, but it didn’t make the transition any easier for me personally. I knew that my body was grateful not to be underpaid and overworked however that I couldn’t help believing that I was wrong to do this. As much as I like studying and sitting in my pajamas, I am just not one of those individuals who can do nothing all day. I want routine. I must feel useful and I must feel like I am getting anything I get. Being from work for another couple of months will be somewhat difficult but I know it’ll be greater in the long term. I do not actually have a selection.
I still find it really hard to think that this is the unpleasant reality. Though you believe you could be set to a road to something better, it is extremely probable that there will be barriers and you will be knocked down along the road, but it is OK.
You’re not currently giving up however letting go for a small while. It’s not bravery although defeat to make the decision that’s perfect for you. It doesn’t matter what family or your buddies might think is wrong or right — the person who’s living it can only ever makes that the decision. Your choice is valid and your choice is correct.
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Thinkstock photo via RossHelen.
source http://www.livingwithfibroblog.com/chronic-illness-choosing-health-over-dreams/
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