Back In The Saddle Again

Quick recap for those just joining my blog: A little more than 3 1/2 years ago, I was laid off from my overly well-paid corporate job. In the interim, I worked part time in a Level 1 medical center emergency department (that I actually volunteered at once a week while I worked at my overly well-paid corporate job.) A month ago, a former coworker of mine swooped in and saved me from food stamps and hired me back into the corporate world. I was so thankful to have an income again. Although I hate the company I work for, I sold my soul ONCE AGAIN to the corporate devil in order to pay my 3-months-late cable and phone bills. My son was ecstatic because he missed having a good Christmas.

Fast forward to today.

It's ridiculous how much I'm being paid for what I do but it's always been like that for this company. I didn't take over someone's job - it was created for a new project so I pretty much had nothing to do the first few weeks. I just sat in my cubicle, staring at the walls, missing my puppy, and making money. Which was cool. Hell, I finished the whole "Hunger Games" trilogy in my first two weeks! Then the thoughts started.

What am I doing here? I'm not helping anyone but myself. But I desperately need money. How desperately? I've seen people die in the ER. I've comforted their families. I can't even tell you how many babies I've seen blue and pulseless because their well-meaning mamas wanted them to sleep with them. I saw my colleagues try to resuscitate a 9-month-old baby boy, only to have to call his time of death while he was wearing nothing but a diaper. I tried to entertain his 2-year-old brother while their mother sobbed over his body. Two weeks later she was charged with manslaughter because she shook her baby to death.

I was taught CPR at my corporate job because my boss thought it would look good on our annual evaluations. After they laid me off, I saw CPR performed in real life too many times. I learned that if you come into the ER with people pumping your chest, you likely won't live. (Well, there was one exception: A woman who dealt cards on our local casino boat collapsed due to an apparent heart attack. The EMTs jumped into action and attached a defibrillating device to her. She rolled into the ER conscious and scared. She was the only one I saw who ever survived a cardiac arrest.)

So I sit in my cubicle and listen to the people around me get upset over ignorant coworkers who don't understand their deadlines and won't work with them to MAKE THIS DAMN POWERPOINT PROJECT COME TOGETHER.

And I think of the 40-something dentist with tattoos who had a sudden heart attack in front of his family and lived for 3 days before succumbing. And I think of the eldery lady who turned her car in front of others and died on her daughter's birthday. And I think of the young girl and her boyfriend who brought in their unresponsive 1-year-old little girl. I sat with them because our pastoral services weren't there yet and listened to their story of not being able to wake the baby for some reason. I later saw both of them in our newspaper being arrested for abuse and manslaughter in her death. And I think of the Indian girl (whose husband works at my company) who died with her unborn daughter while 8 months pregnant. I never knew what happened to them, only that the baby had been passed for a while.

And I think I can't sit in a cubicle anymore because the world is bigger than these proverbial first-world problems. There are too many people out there whom I can comfort. I'm making more money than I deserve but I crave certain creature comforts that require money. And my baby wants Santa to bring him lots of presents. So I'm good. I'm good.

I don't know how much longer I can pretend to be okay with this.

You Know You Work In The ER When...

you discover your thumbnail covered in blood and pray to God it's your own.

Good times. Goooooood times.

Occupy This, Motherf*cker!

I worked my way through college and into a plum job in the corporate world. I made extremely (and by extremely, I mean extremely) good money. Did I deserve to make good money? Hell yes. Did I deserve to make as much as I did? Probably not. I wasn't saving lives - I was writing politically correct bullshit to make our employees feel like they worked for a good, socially responsible company. I was astounded by the influence my company had on local and federal government. (Although I did have to wear pantyhose and high heels every day. That ALONE is almost worth what I made!)

American citizens are finally standing up for themselves against corporate greed. Some argue these protestors need to stop feeling entitled to benefits they haven't earned. Others advise them to "go out and get a job so you won't be in the situation you are in now." Having a job, a comfortable home, and gainful employment does NOT exempt you from being in the 99 percent. It's about distribution of wealth and how very few people own most of our country's wealth. Wealth equals power, and power equals influence - which means democracy is being taken out of our hands and given to the one percent.

Unfortunately, many people don't know they're in the 99 percent. This is a fantastic letter to those who are blinded by the smoke and mirrors of corporate control.

One week ago, I was working in the ER and a truck came screaming up to the front door. The passenger, a guy in his 20s, was slumped over the dashboard. He was wasn't breathing and was purplish blue. A nurse and two techs (techs are like nurse assistants - they're usually nursing students and/or EMTs) ran out to the truck and found no pulse. The driver said his friend had been shooting heroin and became unresponsive in the truck.

In front of a partially full waiting room, the three staff members pulled the guy out of the truck and onto a bed. As the nurse steered the bed into the ER, one of the techs jumped on the bed and started performing CPR. The other tech put an oxygen mask on him and started pumping the bag. I ran ahead opening doors.

We ran into the room screaming that we needed help. Staff came running and flew into action. They administered Narcan, which counteracts the effects of the heroin. Within 45 seconds of being wheeled into the room, the guy started coughing and turning a healthier shade of pink. These people saved his life.

Although doctors and nurses earn good wages (as they should) the two people who kept this man alive until others could intervene earn barely more than minimum wage.

THIS is what Occupy Wall Street is about. It's not about feeling entitled to others' money - it's about the monopolization and corruption at the top of the corporate world that trickles down to everyone.

I currently live at less than poverty level. Do I miss having money and being able to buy anything I wanted, whenever I wanted? HELL TO THE YES. (Especially Tiffany & Co. jewelry. Oh the blue boxes!!! SWOON!)

Am I willing to give it up to help save lives and make a small difference in this greedy world? Hell to the yes.

I am the 99% and you are, too.