What happens next?

Back when the pandemic started in March of 2020, I had just found myself out of a job.  The reasons don’t matter for this tale, but rest assured I was surprised and needed a new job – the sooner, the better.  Fairly quickly I had an interview lined up but didn’t get that job.  By that time jobs had started to dry up because companies were either closing due to the pandemic or were setting staff on furlough until they ramped back up.  What was supposed to be a two-week shutdown to flatten the curve, turned into months.  Still, though, I persisted. 

A friend pointed me at a certain job search website and at a particular job.  It looked interesting and I decided to apply.  I was contacted about the job and provided a copy of the job description.  They had some concerns because the title under which they listed the posting was not actually the work that the person would be doing. 

The “company” is actually an Indian reservation and their jobs and job titles don’t necessarily align with the pre-existing selections available on job search websites.  I read the job description with interest.  Most of my experience up to this point had been in the field of executive assistant, but these folks wanted more of a project manager/coordinator.  My friend convinced me to toss my hat into the ring and so I did.  Due to Covid-19 lockdowns, it was a couple of months before I could actually have an interview.  What a unique experience that was.  I’d had plenty of interviews in my career, with some being solitary, and some with small panels.  This interview was with a panel of six people, easily the largest one I’d ever faced. 

Aside from the size of the panel, only one person was going to be asking the questions, which was fine with me.  But what questions!  This interview was like nothing I’d ever experienced in the past.  I was prepared to answer the usual stuff like “why did you leave your last job”, “tell me about yourself”, or “how did you prepare for this interview”, but nope.  Not one of the ‘usual’ questions was asked.  Instead, they wanted to know how I would structure meeting minutes so that they would be approved by council.  They asked a few situational questions and some that were designed to see where I fell ethically and with respect to confidentiality.  Of course, they also wanted to know what my view were around natives, whereby I told them I was part native.  That sparked a conversation about which group I was with.  I explained my family history as far as the native side of my family.  I was thrilled when a few days later I was offered the job.  I went in, signed the paperwork, and started my crash course in learning all about the legalities of how matrimonial real property is managed on reserves when a spouse dies or a relationship breaks down.  

The project I was hired to take on was to help this particular community create their own law governing matrimonial real property (think “family home”).  There were challenges – some from individuals, some from the virus causing shutdowns or severely limiting how many people I could have at a meeting, and even my own health with needing cancer surgery.  As the end of my 51-week contracted neared, a special exemption was made to hire me as a term employee for one year.  Without this exemption I would have needed to leave the job at whatever stage it was at, take at least one week off, and then reapply to be hired again into the same job for another 51-week contract.  Weird rules, but I can roll with it.  Now the end of my one-year term is looming.  My supervisor and HR both want to ensure I stay on.  I’m pretty sure that chief and council want me to keep on as well since we have a meeting scheduled for a week after my contract is scheduled to end.  Still, though, unforeseen and tragic events have caused delays in a decision being made or a contract or permanent position being offered as yet.  

The good news is my project is moving along nicely, despite the challenges over the past almost two years.  I believe we can see the successful conclusion ahead of us within the next several months.  

The question I have now is “What happens next?”  I really like the people here.  The drive, while long at just over an hour, is full of fantastic scenery and so isn’t really a hardship.  I think I’ve come to fit in really well – so much so that sometimes people forget I have only been here two short years and expect me to remember events that predate my employment.  It’s kind of cute.  But still…this week I will make sure all my files are in order.  I will have everything as ready as can be.  I won’t take my personal stuff from my desk or off the walls of the office yet.  I have applied to another position available within the same office, so I’m hopeful for that.  The problem is that things move slower than anticipated at times.  I’ve heard my husband talk about “island time” and how things in Jamaica (for example) always move much slower – on island time.  I’m convinced this is slower than that.  Even so, I want to stay.  I’m not sure I can go back to the frantic grind I used to function in.  I know I don’t want to. 

A beautiful sunrise picture I took
on my way to work one day.

Dodging a Big Bullet

Sometimes it truly is a matter of timing and sometimes the stars align so perfectly. 

As a woman in her 50s I naturally started tracking my cycles in order to keep track of when they have stopped for a year, which basically means you’re then in menopause.  Sure enough, they started becoming irregular, often disappearing for months before coming back.  Imagine my surprise then, when it didn’t stop.  I mean it didn’t stop at all.  For weeks.  Then months. 

I reached out to my family doctor.  This alone was a bit challenging as my doctor typically spends a lot of time doing stuff other than actually seeing patients (like teaching, etc.).  Fortunately, I was able to see an associate at the same clinic, who immediately asked me to set up an appointment for an ultrasound.  Being in a small-town type of area it took a few weeks to get that appointment, after which I had to wait a few more to see the associate again to discuss the results.  She told me that based on the ultrasound she wanted me to have a biopsy.  Biopsy?  This didn’t sound good, but I tried to tell myself it could be a number of things.  So, a few weeks later I had the biopsy and then waited on tenterhooks for a month to get the results of that. 

Talk about a sucker punch!  She came into the exam room and told me I had Cancer.  Endometrial cancer.  This is cancer in the lining of the uterus.  After I took a few moments to basically have a nervous breakdown, I asked what it meant and what options there were.  She told me it appeared that we had caught it early and was only at Stage 1.  She was going to hook me up with a gynecologist and explained that I would likely need a hysterectomy.  A few weeks after that I met the gynecologist.  She was very reassuring, telling me that with a full hysterectomy (which includes ovaries), I should be good to go.  My sister was more devastated than I was over that news until I reminded her that I already had a son and that I was unlikely to have any more children at my age anyway, so didn't need any of that plumbing.

Knowing that my workplace would be shutting down for two weeks over Christmas, I asked if there was any way she could do the surgery just before the shut-down in order to minimize the amount of time I would need to take off work.  I figured with the two-week closure plus the 12 days of sick time I would largely be okay to start working from home part days until I was deemed okay to return to work.  She wasn’t sure she could get me in that fast, but said she would see.  I went to work and told my supervisor and HR about my diagnosis and that I hoped to have surgery ASAP. 

I guess I traded in some saved up karma because a few days later she called to say a clinical partner had a cancellation for the following week and she asked for the surgery time in order to slide me in.  Yay!  In short order she had her office set up a pre-op day for me.  Now that was an ordeal!  I’ll spare you the details, but let’s say it started with a drill-your-brain-through-the-nose covid test and carried on from there.  I also met with the head of anesthetics who told me there were two ways the surgery could end up happening: (1) the old way of slicing through the abdomen; or (2) vaginally.  The second option was my hoped-for but they couldn’t know for sure until they had me on the table.  This option was preferred because the recovery is so much easier than option 1.  He offered to set me up with a morphine-type self-administer pump to manage the pain after the surgery, but I insisted I would be okay with Tylenol Extra Strength.  I explained to him that I’d had other surgeries (plate in foot, caesarian delivery) and knew I would be okay with just that. 

I was pleasantly surprised that we did end up with option 2.  I did have five tiny incisions all over my abdomen where scopes were inserted to light and display the surgery space for the doctor.  As promised, I only needed the Tylenols.  The evening of the day of the surgery when the nurse asked me about my pain level I told her honestly, that it was about a 4 out of 10.  I was definitely not in a lot of pain.  For being only out of the surgery for about 6 hours that was pretty impressive to them.  The nurses gave me lots of water, popsicles, and even some food.  I slept lots.  I was even able to walk to the bathroom unaided and use the facilities.  They were pretty happy.  The next day the surgeon came in mid-morning and checked my chart, took a quick look at me, and asked if I wanted to go home that afternoon.  Considering they initially wanted me to stay 2 days, I was thrilled.  I called my husband to come get me.  I left with a list of after-care procedures.  The only thing that happened that I wasn't prepared for was being drop kicked into full-on menopause.  Hard.  Suddenly with no ovaries, no more natural female hormones.  

Now you’re probably wondering how my mention of good timing fits into all this.  Here it is:  In mid-January I got a letter from my family doctor saying that she was closing her practice at the end of February.  I was about to be orphaned.  If she had made that decision even six months before, I would probably have just continued to lightly bleed because it was annoying, but I was not experiencing any pain so wouldn’t have thought to bother going to the emergency room to seek medical advice.  Knowing how long it can take to find a doctor in this area, I could well have just put it off until it was too late.  As mentioned, I have high pain tolerance so I might not have been diagnosed until the cancer was stage 3 or 4.  Instead, the stars aligned, I got seen right away and had surgery right away.  A month after the surgery I saw the surgeon for the follow up and was told I was cancer-free!  What an amazing feeling.  So I really and truly did dodge a bullet, simply because the stars aligned.