Decisions, decisions

When I started messing with the idea of doing a blog, I bought a book. I think the title was “Blogging For Dummies.” There was lots of good advice in it and without it, I doubt that my blog ever would have gotten off the ground. One thing that the book said though that I kind of disagree with is to post often - multiple times a day even.

I just don’t have that much going on that I could post that much. I think the quickest way to bore people right out of reading something is to saturate their desire to read it. I still have designs on where this blog will go when I’m done monkeying around with this whole cancer thing, and for what I plan to do then, the posts will probably be more frequent.

(See what I did there for you Kelly Church? You and my grandmother have actually influenced me into using the word monkeying.)

I have used this blog as an outlet for frustration, triumph, fear, and remorse. One thing I have not done is solicited opinion. Until now.

At work, we have three ways to be off. There are RDOs (regular days off), annual leave (pre-scheduled vacation days), and sick leave (self explanatory). There are two RDOs every week and we accrue annual and sick leave every pay period. Sick leave is always earned at 4 hours per pay period regardless of how long a person has worked here, while annual leave accrual is based on your service time.

I bring you this information knowing that you probably couldn’t care less about it, but it does factor into what I’m going to write about today, so please bear with me just a bit longer.

There are people where I work that have massive amounts of both annual leave and sick leave. I am not one of these people. I would like to be, but there are just too many reasons not to. Between kids, a little laziness, and the occasional “better offer,” I don’t know that I’ll ever be one of those people who live to accrue leave.

This brings me to my question. I have burned some leave while taking the radiation and chemo pills. I will have to burn more leave – much more leave – when the surgery date comes. If you burn more leave than you have, it’s called lost time. While you get paid for annual and sick leave, the state will not pay an employee for lost time.

I know that Kelly and I will face some massive medical bills before this thing is over and if I get into lost time and don’t have a paycheck coming in, that could be a problem. At the very least, it will delay my purchase of the new X-Box 1. At the very worst, I’ll be playing my new X-Box 1 in my very lavish cardboard box house under the International Bridge .

One thing that I promised myself over the course of working for the state is that I wouldn’t work any more holidays. I worked them all when I started, but one of the neat things that the state provides us is the ability to take a recognized holiday off and still get paid for it. It’s not automatic or anything, but if they can find someone to work for you, they will let you take it off.

There aren’t many good things about working a holiday in a prison. In fact, I can only think of one. You get paid for your regular shift and you also get 12 hours of holiday pay. You can also take this holiday in the form of 12 hours of comp. Those 12 comp hours per holiday would help me to earn the hours necessary to insure that I don’t go into lost time. For example, if I were to work Christmas Eve, Christmas night, New Year’s Eve, and New Year’s night, I should earn 48 hours of comp which translates into a week and a day of time off for me.

Seems like a no-brainer right? I need the time, so work the holidays.

Here’s the thing. I have maintained the utmost confidence throughout this ordeal that I will win. I still believe that. However, on January 27^th, someone that I have met one time in my life is going to remove my innards (parts of them permanently) and then put me back together like a jigsaw puzzle.

What if?

I hate leaving Kelly alone on Christmas Eve because, the way we have it set up, all the kids are with their other parents. So it’s just her and the dogs. And while Bear is really friendly, he’s not exactly the kind of company you want sitting on the couch with you watching “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

We usually go out and get some late dinner that night, and trust me, it’s never anything fancy. We have gone to Pizza Hut once, and Frank’s Place once. It’s just the two of us and we just enjoy the evening before going home and sitting with the tree on and enjoying each other’s company.

What if?

I’m not trying to be morbid or think negatively, but this surgery is no joke and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared out of my mind about the possibility of being laid open like the proverbial Christmas goose. What if something goes wrong? What if, what if, what if, what if, what if. Get the picture?

I just feel like time is precious right now and the thought of spending a holiday away from the ones I love so that I can be here with 96 murderers, rapists, and thieves just doesn’t seem worth the 12 hours to me. Of course, losing our house, vehicles, and my hat collection doesn’t seem like a very attractive alternative either.

A couple people that I work with have offered to donate leave time to me to help out when the time comes, but I have no idea how much time I’ll need. I’m at a loss as to what to do, because if something were to go wrong, I can’t imagine having to face the possibility that my last Christmas was spent away from my family, and my last New Year’s Eve was spent with anyone other than our friends.

That probably seems a little melodramatic, but like I said, this will be the most invasive surgical procedure I’ve ever had done and I’m scared.

Some of you who are reading this know who Gloria Lamma is. Some of you don’t. She lost her battle with cancer a few days ago, and I’m sure her goal was to make it to Christmas. What do you think she would have given to have had one more Christmas with her family? When I saw the post from Mark Fenlon on facebook that she had passed, it hit me hard; harder than I would have expected. I have battled this thing so far with an attitude that didn’t allow for defeat. Like I thought that if I never gave any credence to the fact that cancer could kill me, then it simply couldn’t. Gloria’s death is a reminder that cancer is a stone cold killer. It doesn’t care who, where, when, or why.

I didn't know Gloria personally. I knew who she was and started following her story because she was fighting the same fight I am now. I have the same kind of cancer that she had, so her story is particularly heartbreaking and terrifying for me. And I know this is just numbers mumbo jumbo, but while I was writing this, it just hit me that my youngest daughter is seven – the same age I was when my dad died.

Having said all that, I remain steadfast in my belief that I will come out of this on top. Nobody said this was going to be easy or without difficult moments. I will be scared, but I will beat this thing. I will have moments of doubt but I will overcome them. I will wonder “what if?” But most importantly,

I Will Win



I would like to take a second to send out prayers and good wishes to my Uncle Mark and to Wade Miller. Both have been dealing with some health issues of their own recently. Get well guys!!