It is amazing how much of our identity as an adult becomes tied to our careers. I have now been working in the power/energy industry in one way or another for 23 years. I’m currently on hold with the company I work for, our business unit has been sold, and after 13 years, I am about to be severed.
Don’t worry—it’s actually a positive thing. I am looking forward to what will hopefully be a new chapter in my career. A chance to strikfdse out from what I have known and try something completely different. Meanwhile, as I sat down to write this blog post tonight, I looked at today’s date and realized that for the first time in 19 years, my anniversary snuck up on me.
Nope—not that one. My wedding was in June of 2010. I’m talking about a different anniversary. One that I was completely unprepared for at the time.
19 years ago today (December 1, 2000), I walked into a small office in Goose Creek, SC and signed a few pieces of paper, officially ending my Naval Career. This process had been over 8 months in the making. In May of 2000 I received the devastating news confirming that I had Multiple Sclerosis. It’s not that I didn’t know something was wrong. I had been complaining to the medics for at least 2 years at that point. But until I started going blind in my right eye and I lost the feeling in my right arm, I wasn’t taken seriously. I was told many iterations of the following:
- You’re a hypochondriac
- You’re imagining things
- It’s not that bad—tough up
- All women have problems with their bladders
- You’re fat—if you just lost a few pounds this would all go away
- You’re just faking it to get out of work
But once they made an official diagnosis, they streamlined my departure from the Navy. My primary care doctor’s attitude didn’t change—he was still convinced I was “faking it” until the day I walked out the door. Even with positive blood results and active lesions on my brain. Yeah, he was a gem.
But there I was, 22 years old, diagnosed with a chronic illness, and completely cut loose from the path I had been determined to follow. A path I had been assured was guaranteed for 8 years. It was a strange feeling being suddenly adrift.
A few days later I packed up my little red Hyundai Accent and pointed it toward the West Coast. I stayed with my parents for a few weeks, trying to figure out a new life plan. All the problems that I had left behind when I joined the Navy were right there waiting in my old hometown. By January, I had accepted a job in Seattle and once more I hit the road for something new.
They say hindsight is 20-20. I would say it is even more than that. Almost microscopic at times. Freshly diagnosed with MS and still in denial, I wasn’t ready for what lay ahead. If I had it to do over, I probably would have taken more time (even before I got out), to get more help adjusting to my diagnosis. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to acknowledge that there was something really wrong. And certainly the people in my life and the time didn’t care or didn’t know enough to say otherwise.
But as they say:
Alea iacta est
The Die is Cast
I can’t go back and undo the past. But as I look back on what has possibly been one of the roughest years MS-in all of the 19 I’ve been diagnosed (2019 sucked in every way it could), I can hope as I make this newest transition that I am choosing a healthier and wiser future.
I’ll let you all know December 20th what my official fate is. I have some new and exciting plans depending on the outcome.
In the meantime, I will keep posting about Alaska and Chicken. Coming up in December I have a few book reviews in the queue and some additional historical features based on our trip to Dawson City, revolving around my research for my novel, A Drink of Dakrness.