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impyMom's gonna need open heart surgery to replace 2 valves and do a bypass. So while yesterday's procedure technically went well (it did not require an overnight stay) it was most decidedly a case of good news, bad news. The other bright spot, before I spiral, is that apparently her heart itself is actually doing quite well. It's just the two valves are shit.
I do wonder if doctors really expect people to be ready to shriek, "not possible!" when they say a childhood illness can do severe damage that doesn't make itself known til you're much, much older because the number of times they'd say, "hard to believe, but true" or some variation when discussing the odds of Mom having had rheumatic fever as a kid was just insane.
Or maybe it was just the dudes because the women did not seem to have that same issue. *muse*
In any case, I am a terrible adult because I have no fucking clue what to do. I called work, because I'd told them a couple of weeks ago that I'd let them know as soon as I knew anything. Since we left the hospital with a surgery date and time (Dec. 17, 5:30am) and the most penciled in of timelines (2 days in ICU, 4 days elsewhere in the hospital, and then it's up to the physical therapists but sweet baby Jesus, the recovery time sounds most unfun), and it's so very soon, I thought I'd talk to someone and get whatever ball rolling on that end.
Yeah. About that.
In theory I could probably work for most of the time Mom's in the hospital. But I'm not trying to do that for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I did that shit when Dad was in the hospital and I very much regret it. I absolutely learned my lesson and if it's at all possible, I want someone with Mom as much as possible. It's one thing if she says go, be gone, shoo, and means it. But mistakes happen, Mom gets freaked out, and hello, COVID.
So. I call and ask my favorite daytime person which manager type person is on duty and she tells me one who won't be all that helpful. She then volunteers that perhaps the SM is still around and I ask to speak to him. Annnnnnnnnd things go sideways almost immediately. I tell him, in case he never got the memo, that I'd told the two higher underlings about Mom's need for surgery and that now we had a date and I'd need to take time off. And not once was there even a tiny bit of "ohno, I hope she'll be all right" or even just an, "oh, no." Nope. It was just the longest pause in history and then, "uhhhhhhhhhh... how much time off?"
My dude. I know it's Christmas. That's part of why I'm internally screaming* so loudly. But I swear, I'd rather just straight up quit and have Mom be absolutely fine than be pranking you about this. So tis absolutely true. I let him know I don't know exactly, but it'll be at least a week in the hospital alone (do the math, dude, that puts it at Christmas Eve, who the fuck wants to be at the hospital on Christmas Eve?) and who knows beyond that point because it's heart surgery. Also, I've never had to do anything like this before. The most unusual time off was when Dad was in the hospital and that they just kinda gave me because it was without warning and I also came back way too soon. But I don't say anything beyond not knowing and never having had this kind of thing come up before. He finally says, "well, anything more than 5 days will be FMLA and... I guess I could get you the paperwork" after taking a moment in there to try and decide whether he could show me or whether just getting the paperwork himself would be easier.
It was never in doubt that I'd get the time off, my dude. I don't know much, but I do know that you have to give me that time, up to 12 weeks off, without fucking with my job. Beyond that, I don't know shit. But I do know that.
On the smallest of plus sides, I checked my PTO balance this morning to make sure it had gone up the way it should have and um, it's actually sitting at just under two days. Which is a bit odd, as I was expecting it to be just under one day. To be fair, I didn't think I'd actually run out of PTO when the system said I had, so this is closer to what I thought it should have been before that possible glitch. It's not a lot, but since it's not like FMLA leave is paid... *internal screaming intensifies*
Other plus side things include Widget took it upon himself to put up the tree early this year and he's decorated it, too. I need him to bring in a box for me to pack up Thanksgiving and I need to figure out what I'm doing with the black cat cotillion, but yeah. That's nice.
I do wonder if doctors really expect people to be ready to shriek, "not possible!" when they say a childhood illness can do severe damage that doesn't make itself known til you're much, much older because the number of times they'd say, "hard to believe, but true" or some variation when discussing the odds of Mom having had rheumatic fever as a kid was just insane.
Or maybe it was just the dudes because the women did not seem to have that same issue. *muse*
In any case, I am a terrible adult because I have no fucking clue what to do. I called work, because I'd told them a couple of weeks ago that I'd let them know as soon as I knew anything. Since we left the hospital with a surgery date and time (Dec. 17, 5:30am) and the most penciled in of timelines (2 days in ICU, 4 days elsewhere in the hospital, and then it's up to the physical therapists but sweet baby Jesus, the recovery time sounds most unfun), and it's so very soon, I thought I'd talk to someone and get whatever ball rolling on that end.
Yeah. About that.
In theory I could probably work for most of the time Mom's in the hospital. But I'm not trying to do that for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is that I did that shit when Dad was in the hospital and I very much regret it. I absolutely learned my lesson and if it's at all possible, I want someone with Mom as much as possible. It's one thing if she says go, be gone, shoo, and means it. But mistakes happen, Mom gets freaked out, and hello, COVID.
So. I call and ask my favorite daytime person which manager type person is on duty and she tells me one who won't be all that helpful. She then volunteers that perhaps the SM is still around and I ask to speak to him. Annnnnnnnnd things go sideways almost immediately. I tell him, in case he never got the memo, that I'd told the two higher underlings about Mom's need for surgery and that now we had a date and I'd need to take time off. And not once was there even a tiny bit of "ohno, I hope she'll be all right" or even just an, "oh, no." Nope. It was just the longest pause in history and then, "uhhhhhhhhhh... how much time off?"
My dude. I know it's Christmas. That's part of why I'm internally screaming* so loudly. But I swear, I'd rather just straight up quit and have Mom be absolutely fine than be pranking you about this. So tis absolutely true. I let him know I don't know exactly, but it'll be at least a week in the hospital alone (do the math, dude, that puts it at Christmas Eve, who the fuck wants to be at the hospital on Christmas Eve?) and who knows beyond that point because it's heart surgery. Also, I've never had to do anything like this before. The most unusual time off was when Dad was in the hospital and that they just kinda gave me because it was without warning and I also came back way too soon. But I don't say anything beyond not knowing and never having had this kind of thing come up before. He finally says, "well, anything more than 5 days will be FMLA and... I guess I could get you the paperwork" after taking a moment in there to try and decide whether he could show me or whether just getting the paperwork himself would be easier.
It was never in doubt that I'd get the time off, my dude. I don't know much, but I do know that you have to give me that time, up to 12 weeks off, without fucking with my job. Beyond that, I don't know shit. But I do know that.
On the smallest of plus sides, I checked my PTO balance this morning to make sure it had gone up the way it should have and um, it's actually sitting at just under two days. Which is a bit odd, as I was expecting it to be just under one day. To be fair, I didn't think I'd actually run out of PTO when the system said I had, so this is closer to what I thought it should have been before that possible glitch. It's not a lot, but since it's not like FMLA leave is paid... *internal screaming intensifies*
Other plus side things include Widget took it upon himself to put up the tree early this year and he's decorated it, too. I need him to bring in a box for me to pack up Thanksgiving and I need to figure out what I'm doing with the black cat cotillion, but yeah. That's nice.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-02 02:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-02 03:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-07 06:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-17 02:16 am (UTC)As for work, it's a newish SM and I'm hoping his was less "I don't believe you" and more "socially awkward to the extreme and don't know what to say" but yeah, I keep thinking it's past time to jump ship. Each time I seriously consider it, something happens. This was actually going to be the year I actively tried to find something else and uh, yeah. COVID. Woo.
(no subject)
Date: 2020-12-17 04:07 pm (UTC)Good to know that you have been giving some thought to jumping ship. You definitely deserve better!