Love and Cancer - part V (I quit THIS job!)

This is my fifth blog on the subject of dealing with dad's cancer.

I can't remember which Adam Sandler movie it is, I think it's Spanglish, when Sandler's fed up housekeeper says, "I quit this job" and Sandler's reply is, "I quit THIS job!" meaning his life in general as a fed up (unrewarded yet) devoted husband, father, provider, domestic peacekeeper, etc.

There's no reason for (anything) regarding cancer. I took time off work to go back to MN to be with dad and his wife; to say hello one more time; to say goodbye one more time; to hug my brothers; to unite; to reunite; to laugh; to cry; to spend time with loved ones; to just be... together.

And then I got sick.

Seems I had a touch of "walking pneumonia". Mycoplasma Pneumonia. Whatever. And just when you think it can't get any worse, it does. It did.

I was sick for about 8 days. Only I didn't know how sick I was for most that time. It was a mild case of walking pneumonia, a little worse than a common cold, but it felt like someone was constantly squeezing the air out of my lungs. The congestion, coughing, and sinus pain was awful.

My dad has zero immune system. Naturally, I wasn't allowed to see him.

Motherfucker!!

Stress.

Once I realized I was sick, I couldn't see my dad; I'm trying to coordinate time off to get home; Im getting text messages from home about my dad's not surprising yet failing condition; I'm still working my (then) hospitality job; if I couldn't go home might as well continue working, never mind the fact that's most likely where I got sick to begin with.

At this rate,

In this vicious circle,

I was never going to be well enough to see my dad.

Not my bosses problem. Not my coworkers problem. I get that. I never asked my coworkers for anything. They're equally not my misfortune.

I go to work. I do my job. I go home. For some people that's plenty good enough. Those are the people I love working with. For others, they need more. They need their egos boosted. They need everything not part of the job requirement, and more. How irritating.

Still,

Withal,

I rationalized. I reasoned. I tolerated. I stayed the course.

Until,

A couple male egos with serious attitude, thought they deserve more attention than my dad.

You know these guys; they pop wheelies on their crotch-rockets in dead stop traffic in between cars; they talk and laugh obnoxiously loud on their cell phones in restaurants because they think everyone wants to hear their "important" conversation; they indecently cough and sneeze with no attempt at stifling the spread of their germs. "Look at me!!"

Yeah. You're cool.

I don't tolerate machismo. Not in the work place. Not in my personal life. Its uneducated, unsophisticated, juvenile, and amateur. I'm being redundant to stress my point.

So,

Hey guess what?

I quit THIS job!

Are you kidding me? Regardless if you work at an upscale country club, posh nightclub, or McDonalds, it's just a job.

Back when I WC'd regularly, one guy, after one year working together, refused to work with me any longer because I never came with him.

Male ego.

He suggested we got together off cam and practiced. Practiced!! Look handsome, we did our jobs. Successfully.

Practice? Practice what? Are you serious?

Look,

I show up. I do what I'm paid to do. I leave. And if everyone does their job properly we all make money. Hooray!

Money. That's the goal in the work place. Money. Am I the only person who keeps that in check?

But,

There always has to be one idiot in every work place that wants you to metaphorically come, because they don't know how to pop wheelies in between parked cars.

Annoying.

My dad being sick isn't what caused these guys to get on my last and final nerve, they would have managed that all on their own if given more time. My dad being sick merely precipitated the outcome.

I quit THIS job!!

I so did.

In fact, my dad being sick urged many things in all areas of my life to a final conclusion. All for the better.

Your god works in mysterious ways.