You know the kind of semester where you feel like you are constantly getting your ass kicked? The semester that is simultaneously flying by and the longest semester of your life?
That's my semester. I've had bad semesters before, but this one, well, it takes the cake.
I was supposed to finish my dissertation this semester. It's mid-October and I can't remember the last time I actually had a moment or took a moment to even open up a chapter file.
I can't get it together. I can't keep up with the work. This was supposed to be an easy semester. Two sections of the same class that I've taught before and don't really need to prep much. Except there is a lot of prep because the chair doesn't want us to lecture much and wants us to design all these fantastic lesson plans to really reach students on multiple levels that lectures just can't reach. I didn't lecture much to begin with because I prefer activities and discussions and blah, blah, blah, but when your students don't read, it's really hard to get any sort of discussion going because they don't have the basic knowledge required to participate in that discussion. When they don't read, it's really hard to have a successful activity of any sort because, for instance, they can't defend a side in a mock Scopes trial when they don't know who Scopes was and they can't lobby President Wilson for or against the Espionage Act when they don't know what the Espionage Act is or who Wilson is or that there was a giant freaking war of epic proportions taking place.
I can't get into a routine and I need one. It's mid-October and I am stuck in a rut of just barely getting grading finished in time or just barely writing that exam before class or just barely prepping before class or whatever. I am losing my mind.
I need a routine. I like a routine. I don't know how I lost my routine, but I did and I can't seem to get back to it. I miss my routine! I miss having free time. I miss reading blogs to relax or commiserate or just catch up with people that I've met along the way in a million different writing groups. I miss writing groups! I miss College Misery and Jane B and Historiann and Amstr and Bardiac and Notorious PhD and everyone else whose name I didn't mention because it's 12:30 in the morning and I still have 20 test essays left to grade and my brain is fried. FRIED.
Here's my promise to myself: tonight I finish those tests. Tomorrow I grade their multiple-choice (hurrah!) quizzes and fill out the evaluations for the football players and finish grading their blog posts, which I'm actually on top of, surprisingly. Then I get to take a nap and, when I'm all refreshed from a delightful nap cuddled up with Dewey, I'm going to sit down and work out a weekly schedule (including time for yoga and all the annoying little things that crop up and suck up so much time - I'm no fool). After that, I get wine. Lots of wine. And I get to catch up on some blogs. And I get to go to sleep as early as I want. I'd put my money on 8:30, if anyone was taking bets.
I will have my routine and I will stick to it or else this vein is really going to explode and I don't have health insurance (or Medicaid yet), so that would be a problem.
Ok. Back to grading. *sob*
October 18, 2013
October 1, 2013
Affordable Care for Adjuncts?
Today is the day. Today is the day Obamacare goes into effect. Today is the day Obamacare goes into effect and I get to fill out my application for Medicaid.
Medicaid? Yes, Medicaid. I don't make enough money as an adjunct to afford health insurance, even through Obamacare, so I have been told that I need to apply for Medicaid.
I came to this understanding at a meeting at my school that was supposed to explain the non-existent changes to the school's insurance plan and answer any questions any employees might have. The school's insurance agent was very nice, explaining that, because my school's insurance plan actually exceeds the platinum level of coverage in Obamacare, employees have nothing to worry about, although they could opt out and buy their own, lesser coverage, presumably to save themselves some money.
Here was my exact train of thought as I processed this information, "Better than the platinum level of coverage? That's amazing. Who on earth would choose to opt out of that?...Wait. No. What the hell? That is bullshit. Couldn't the school drop down a level of coverage and extend benefits to more of their employees? Or drop down a level of coverage and pay us a wage that gives us a fighting chance of being able to purchase insurance ourselves?"
That's the problem, of course. It's lovely that my school offers such a supposedly fantastic plan, but it does me no good. Obamacare does me no good, either, as much as I am a firm believer in the necessity of universal healthcare. It does me no good because I don't make enough to buy my own insurance. It does me no good - in fact, it hurts my situation - thanks to the stupid decision on the part of the IRS that says anyone teaching more than two college classes is a full-time employee and must be insured by the college, resulting, as expected, in adjuncts' class loads getting decimated, further affecting our ability to cobble together a living, let alone purchase health insurance.
On a side note, I would like to see whatever geniuses at the IRS who came up with that decision try to teach two classes and work on those classes less than forty hours a week.
Still, as I've read more and more about the #IamMargaretMary tragedy and watched the government shut down over Obamacare and I've read all of people's angry tweets and raging posts on Facebook - on both sides of the issue - I have been, aside from my initial blog post and tweets about Margaret Mary's death, relatively silent.
It's not that I'm not angry. I'm furious. Of course I'm furious. I'm also at a loss. I hear people saying all these dreadful things about poor people being too lazy to get a job or being happy to mooch off the system because they are all drug addicts or not spending their money on "the right things." I read posts with people joking that it's funny how people can't pay for their own health insurance, but they can pay for a smartphone.
Ha ha. Yes, that's hilarious. I have an iPhone, I confess. Shame on me. Show me a health insurance plan that costs the $35 per month that I pay for my data plan and I would gladly purchase it. But let's have it be a useful plan that doesn't require a $10,000 deductible and only lets me visit one doctor in the state, ok?
I hear these awful comments and I want to scream that I AM THAT POOR PERSON. I am the person who cannot afford health insurance, or rent, or my student loans, or a car payment. I live with my parents and have lived with my parents for sixteen months because of my financial situation. I'm trying to finish my dissertation and bartend during the summer tourist season to help make ends meet since what I make as an adjunct is laughable, but those ends don't meet.
Those ends never meet. How can they meet with $150,000 in student loans? How can they meet when I drive 45 minutes each way, three times a week, to teach and gas costs $3.40 per gallon? How can they meet when, every time I feel myself start to get on top of my bills, something always happen? My dog gets sick, or my car breaks down, or I get sick and am forced to go to the doctor to get a prescription, spending $300 just to get simple antibiotics after being sick for three straight weeks and not being able to take it anymore. Yes, I am that poor person who isn't spending their money on "the right things."
But let's do the math, shall we? Let's see just how much I make an hour teaching "part-time." Keeping in mind that the national average per class for adjuncts is somewhere around $5,000, I earn $2,100 per class. $2,100 over sixteen weeks of teaching - because no one preps for a class before the semester starts, right? - is $131.25 per week. Since I naturally don't work 40 hours per week because I don't have a "full" course load, let's say I work 25 hours a week (I can barely control the shaking rage I feel at the assumption I work so little as a professor, but, sure, let's go with it). $131.25 per week divided by the ridiculous assumption of a 25-hour work week means I get paid, drumroll, $5.25 per hour. That's $2.00 under my state's minimum wage requirements and, like I said, 25 hours per week is some sort of insane joke of an estimate. Just for fun, let's see how much I make assuming a 40-hour week. Again, $131.25 divided by 40 this time is...$3.28 per hour. $3.28 per hour to teach a college class.
How did I get here? I did all the things I was told would help me make a good life for myself. I work hard, I am educated - well-educated, possibly too well-educated. In other words, I bought into the myth of the American dream and yet, here I am, living with my parents and applying for Medicaid.
As I sit here filling out my Medicaid application and trying to choke down the humiliation of needing Medicaid, I am going to let that number run through my head as a constant reminder of why I am about to try to go on Medicaid.
Yes, I am that person who "mooches off the system." Wouldn't you? It's a system that pays me $3.28 per hour.
Medicaid? Yes, Medicaid. I don't make enough money as an adjunct to afford health insurance, even through Obamacare, so I have been told that I need to apply for Medicaid.
I came to this understanding at a meeting at my school that was supposed to explain the non-existent changes to the school's insurance plan and answer any questions any employees might have. The school's insurance agent was very nice, explaining that, because my school's insurance plan actually exceeds the platinum level of coverage in Obamacare, employees have nothing to worry about, although they could opt out and buy their own, lesser coverage, presumably to save themselves some money.
Here was my exact train of thought as I processed this information, "Better than the platinum level of coverage? That's amazing. Who on earth would choose to opt out of that?...Wait. No. What the hell? That is bullshit. Couldn't the school drop down a level of coverage and extend benefits to more of their employees? Or drop down a level of coverage and pay us a wage that gives us a fighting chance of being able to purchase insurance ourselves?"
That's the problem, of course. It's lovely that my school offers such a supposedly fantastic plan, but it does me no good. Obamacare does me no good, either, as much as I am a firm believer in the necessity of universal healthcare. It does me no good because I don't make enough to buy my own insurance. It does me no good - in fact, it hurts my situation - thanks to the stupid decision on the part of the IRS that says anyone teaching more than two college classes is a full-time employee and must be insured by the college, resulting, as expected, in adjuncts' class loads getting decimated, further affecting our ability to cobble together a living, let alone purchase health insurance.
On a side note, I would like to see whatever geniuses at the IRS who came up with that decision try to teach two classes and work on those classes less than forty hours a week.
Still, as I've read more and more about the #IamMargaretMary tragedy and watched the government shut down over Obamacare and I've read all of people's angry tweets and raging posts on Facebook - on both sides of the issue - I have been, aside from my initial blog post and tweets about Margaret Mary's death, relatively silent.
It's not that I'm not angry. I'm furious. Of course I'm furious. I'm also at a loss. I hear people saying all these dreadful things about poor people being too lazy to get a job or being happy to mooch off the system because they are all drug addicts or not spending their money on "the right things." I read posts with people joking that it's funny how people can't pay for their own health insurance, but they can pay for a smartphone.
Ha ha. Yes, that's hilarious. I have an iPhone, I confess. Shame on me. Show me a health insurance plan that costs the $35 per month that I pay for my data plan and I would gladly purchase it. But let's have it be a useful plan that doesn't require a $10,000 deductible and only lets me visit one doctor in the state, ok?
I hear these awful comments and I want to scream that I AM THAT POOR PERSON. I am the person who cannot afford health insurance, or rent, or my student loans, or a car payment. I live with my parents and have lived with my parents for sixteen months because of my financial situation. I'm trying to finish my dissertation and bartend during the summer tourist season to help make ends meet since what I make as an adjunct is laughable, but those ends don't meet.
Those ends never meet. How can they meet with $150,000 in student loans? How can they meet when I drive 45 minutes each way, three times a week, to teach and gas costs $3.40 per gallon? How can they meet when, every time I feel myself start to get on top of my bills, something always happen? My dog gets sick, or my car breaks down, or I get sick and am forced to go to the doctor to get a prescription, spending $300 just to get simple antibiotics after being sick for three straight weeks and not being able to take it anymore. Yes, I am that poor person who isn't spending their money on "the right things."
But let's do the math, shall we? Let's see just how much I make an hour teaching "part-time." Keeping in mind that the national average per class for adjuncts is somewhere around $5,000, I earn $2,100 per class. $2,100 over sixteen weeks of teaching - because no one preps for a class before the semester starts, right? - is $131.25 per week. Since I naturally don't work 40 hours per week because I don't have a "full" course load, let's say I work 25 hours a week (I can barely control the shaking rage I feel at the assumption I work so little as a professor, but, sure, let's go with it). $131.25 per week divided by the ridiculous assumption of a 25-hour work week means I get paid, drumroll, $5.25 per hour. That's $2.00 under my state's minimum wage requirements and, like I said, 25 hours per week is some sort of insane joke of an estimate. Just for fun, let's see how much I make assuming a 40-hour week. Again, $131.25 divided by 40 this time is...$3.28 per hour. $3.28 per hour to teach a college class.
How did I get here? I did all the things I was told would help me make a good life for myself. I work hard, I am educated - well-educated, possibly too well-educated. In other words, I bought into the myth of the American dream and yet, here I am, living with my parents and applying for Medicaid.
As I sit here filling out my Medicaid application and trying to choke down the humiliation of needing Medicaid, I am going to let that number run through my head as a constant reminder of why I am about to try to go on Medicaid.
Yes, I am that person who "mooches off the system." Wouldn't you? It's a system that pays me $3.28 per hour.
September 19, 2013
Will this be me?
There is a tremendous sense of outrage over the tragic death of Margaret Mary Vojtko. Perhaps it was her life, or at the least the last few years of it, that was more tragic than her death. I don't know.
If you haven't read the article already, you should. Vojtko's death, in the most appalling way possible, highlights the effects of university administrators' willful disregard for the human beings they employ at pay levels per class that sometimes are less than or equal to what a work-study student can earn in a semester. Trying to earn a living as an adjunct is precarious, at best. Trying to earn a living as an adjunct in a country without universal health care is, obviously, worse. When you add to that an attempt at providing health care for everyone, but that attempt backfires as administrators prove they lack any milk of human kindness and cut adjuncts' class loads to avoid providing health care for those of us in the trenches, doing the majority of the teaching, teaching the classes full time faculty don't want, in the time frames they don't want, what you have is not a recipe for disaster. It is a guarantee of disaster.
The refusal of administrators to pay a living wage, to provide health insurance, to treat adjuncts as human beings deserve to be treated, will have lasting repercussions. I could go on and on about the unfairness of the situation to the students. Hell, I have. But you know what? There's been enough talk about the students. I don't care about students right now. For once, it's not about them. It's about me. It's about me and all the other adjuncts who, despite working tirelessly for wages that can do nothing but trap us into a cycle of what is basically mental torture when your insufficient income is unreliable, sporadic, and likely to change with the briefest of notice. It's about the desperation created by a system that will kick you out of the door after years of abuse and not even give thought to the destruction of your life and all that you have worked for, a destruction that they have helped cause. It's about the hope that this will end, that Vojtko's treatment - that the fact that she worked for a Catholic university for 25 years and yet was buried in a cardboard casket - will help bring an end to such a system.
Because you know what? Change the religious affiliation of the school and that could easily be me in the cardboard casket in forty years.
Because you know what? Change the religious affiliation of the school and that could easily be me in the cardboard casket in forty years.
August 22, 2013
And That's What It's All About!
Don't be disappointed. This post isn't about the Hokey Pokey. It's about teaching. I can tell you're sad. Sorry to disappoint!
Anyway, I was on campus yesterday to pick up my printed syllabus because the print shop lady doesn't get to campus until 7:45 a.m. and I have an 8:00 a.m. class on Monday and am far too obsessive to even consider waiting until then to get pick up my syllabus. Anyway, I ran into a few of my former students, football players who were already on campus for practice, and they seemed genuinely excited to see me. We chatted for a bit about the upcoming semester and their season and it was nice. It's why I decided to go back after all.
Then today I checked my class rosters and noticed that one of my students in World Civ last year signed up for a class with me this semester. A repeater! My first repeater! How cool is that? I'm so excited! I can't wait to get back in the classroom!
Anyway, I was on campus yesterday to pick up my printed syllabus because the print shop lady doesn't get to campus until 7:45 a.m. and I have an 8:00 a.m. class on Monday and am far too obsessive to even consider waiting until then to get pick up my syllabus. Anyway, I ran into a few of my former students, football players who were already on campus for practice, and they seemed genuinely excited to see me. We chatted for a bit about the upcoming semester and their season and it was nice. It's why I decided to go back after all.
Then today I checked my class rosters and noticed that one of my students in World Civ last year signed up for a class with me this semester. A repeater! My first repeater! How cool is that? I'm so excited! I can't wait to get back in the classroom!
July 30, 2013
It's happening all over again...maybe??
I got an email today asking me to teach at the same school again this fall. They offered me two sections of U.S. History again.
I'm conflicted. I didn't think I'd be willing to go back and I'm still not sure that it's a good idea because it's not very much money (I mean even lower than normal adjunct pay) and I may just be setting myself up for heartbreak all over again. On the other hand, I wouldn't have to revise anything unless I really, really wanted to, giving me time to finish the dissertation and keeping a foot in the door somewhere, since I've had absolutely no interest from any other schools I've applied to and the semester is rapidly approaching. It also means I could bartend or wait tables part-time, instead of the full-time option I'm staring down right now since no other teaching options are working for me.
I don't know. Any of you who so patiently listened to all of my whining (and celebrating, too) last year want to weigh in on this, keeping in mind that I've been trying for months and months (and months and months) to find alternate employment and keep getting rejected for being overqualified and underqualified, etc., etc., etc.?
I'm conflicted. I didn't think I'd be willing to go back and I'm still not sure that it's a good idea because it's not very much money (I mean even lower than normal adjunct pay) and I may just be setting myself up for heartbreak all over again. On the other hand, I wouldn't have to revise anything unless I really, really wanted to, giving me time to finish the dissertation and keeping a foot in the door somewhere, since I've had absolutely no interest from any other schools I've applied to and the semester is rapidly approaching. It also means I could bartend or wait tables part-time, instead of the full-time option I'm staring down right now since no other teaching options are working for me.
I don't know. Any of you who so patiently listened to all of my whining (and celebrating, too) last year want to weigh in on this, keeping in mind that I've been trying for months and months (and months and months) to find alternate employment and keep getting rejected for being overqualified and underqualified, etc., etc., etc.?
July 14, 2013
Vive la France!
Oh, Paris. So much to say and I don't even know where to begin. Don't worry, you won't get all the details of my entire nine days there. I'll stick to the highlights, I promise!
First, the conference and the entire reason I was there: it was strange, but went well in the end. You know those conferences where it seems as if there are two groups attending - the grad students and the established academics? It was like that. Even at the banquet we had two "kiddie" tables of grad students and one prof at each of those tables. It was really hard to mingle the two groups together. Most of the profs kept to their group, unless they knew one of us grad students, at which point they might talk to us for a bit and then scurry back to their group. It was kind of strange. Some of the other students were saying that they felt really uncomfortable trying to approach the profs because, as always, grad students tend to feel like we have nothing to offer in establishing a relationship with a prof and that the prof is always thinking that we want something from them, when really, a lot of times, it's just a matter of hero worship, perhaps with a bit of wanting ideas from them, too. I'm (too) far enough along to let that bother/stop me anymore, but even I found it a little intimidating to try to talk to some of them because of this gaping divide between the groups.
I presented during the last panel on the last day, which is never ideal, but was fine. The question session for our panel got monopolized by an exchange between one of the panelists and an audience member, to the point where the moderator made the decision to end the session in order to stop the exchange from getting more heated. It wasn't terribly heated, but neither side was backing down and the moderator wanted to avoid a train wreck, basically, which was a good idea. That left me with no questions asked at all, so I really was clueless as to how my paper was received. They laughed at the funny bits I put in and clapped at the end, but was it the compulsory clap everyone dreads? I didn't know. It turned out not to be a compulsory clap, as I had four or five profs come up to immediately afterwards and tell me that they liked my paper, thought I had a great avenue for further research, suggested some secondary sources to help frame my work for the next step, etc. One prof, who I've known for a few years but have fallen out of touch with, even went so far as to say how impressed he was not just with the topic and the research, but with my delivery and that I really kept people's attention, even without a dreadful PowerPoint (the speaker after me had an impressive slideshow and I did not - not much to show, really, and I don't like pointless PowerPoints), and even made them laugh. A few of these profs are on the board of the JST, so now they know me and my work and I'm hoping that helps when they get my fellowship application next year. That was the whole point of going to this conference, after all.
So, the fun stuff: oh, the churches! And pastries! And wine! And food! I don't know where to begin, so I'll just show you some pictures.
Best meal (fondue and wine after the conference ended):
Favorite random place we decided to visit (the police museum because it had a guillotine blade used during the Revolution):
Did I mention I love the Phantom of the Opera? I really, really do.
First, the conference and the entire reason I was there: it was strange, but went well in the end. You know those conferences where it seems as if there are two groups attending - the grad students and the established academics? It was like that. Even at the banquet we had two "kiddie" tables of grad students and one prof at each of those tables. It was really hard to mingle the two groups together. Most of the profs kept to their group, unless they knew one of us grad students, at which point they might talk to us for a bit and then scurry back to their group. It was kind of strange. Some of the other students were saying that they felt really uncomfortable trying to approach the profs because, as always, grad students tend to feel like we have nothing to offer in establishing a relationship with a prof and that the prof is always thinking that we want something from them, when really, a lot of times, it's just a matter of hero worship, perhaps with a bit of wanting ideas from them, too. I'm (too) far enough along to let that bother/stop me anymore, but even I found it a little intimidating to try to talk to some of them because of this gaping divide between the groups.
I presented during the last panel on the last day, which is never ideal, but was fine. The question session for our panel got monopolized by an exchange between one of the panelists and an audience member, to the point where the moderator made the decision to end the session in order to stop the exchange from getting more heated. It wasn't terribly heated, but neither side was backing down and the moderator wanted to avoid a train wreck, basically, which was a good idea. That left me with no questions asked at all, so I really was clueless as to how my paper was received. They laughed at the funny bits I put in and clapped at the end, but was it the compulsory clap everyone dreads? I didn't know. It turned out not to be a compulsory clap, as I had four or five profs come up to immediately afterwards and tell me that they liked my paper, thought I had a great avenue for further research, suggested some secondary sources to help frame my work for the next step, etc. One prof, who I've known for a few years but have fallen out of touch with, even went so far as to say how impressed he was not just with the topic and the research, but with my delivery and that I really kept people's attention, even without a dreadful PowerPoint (the speaker after me had an impressive slideshow and I did not - not much to show, really, and I don't like pointless PowerPoints), and even made them laugh. A few of these profs are on the board of the JST, so now they know me and my work and I'm hoping that helps when they get my fellowship application next year. That was the whole point of going to this conference, after all.
So, the fun stuff: oh, the churches! And pastries! And wine! And food! I don't know where to begin, so I'll just show you some pictures.
Best meal (fondue and wine after the conference ended):
Favorite Versailles picture (that's right, I'm driving a golf cart around the grounds):
Favorite Louvre picture (I was more impressed with the architecture than some of the fan favorites because fighting the crowds to see the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and The Lacemaker - while worth it - was exhausting and annoying and I had to leave after only a few hours there or someone was going to get stabbed):
Favorite of-course-this-would-happen-to-me moment (getting stuck in a canal lock for 45 minutes while on a canal tour because someone cut a wire overnight and the lock was broken and a specialist had to be called to repair it WHILE we were in it):
Favorite church (oh man, this one is hard, but I'm going to go with St. Etienne du Mont partly because I had to work so hard to get in there as it had hours that conflicted with my schedule - the nerve!, though Sacre Coeur, St Paul et St Louis, St Pierre, and so many more make it really hard to chose):
Favorite attraction overall (again, this is tough, but I'm going with the Opera Garnier because the guided tour was fantastic, it is stunningly gorgeous, and, not least, I love the Phantom of the Opera)
Just look at the ceiling by Chagall! Parisians hated it at first, but I loved it. It's an ode to the glory and beauty of Paris and music and dance - how could you not love it? (The picture doesn't do it justice, so don't judge it by this!)
Did I mention I love the Phantom of the Opera? I really, really do.
Ok, that's it for now. I have a dissertation to write!
June 14, 2013
Absence, Illness, and Heartache
Some of you may be wondering where I've been lately; it's been a couple of weeks since I posted anything, after all. Some of you may be grateful for the quiet, though, in which case, please don't tell me!
To make a long story short, I've been sick with some sort of mystery illness that lasted about a month, but finally, finally. I'm pretty sure it was bronchitis, though I can't be certain because I don't have health insurance and can't go to the doctor or get a prescription unless I am near death. I felt sick enough for long enough, though, that I decided to skip DHSI in the interest of getting better and also not infecting everyone on my plane and at DHSI. You are welcome, people. It was miserable not going, since I've been looking forward to it for over a year and I kept thinking about how much money I lost because I can't get reimbursed for my travel award without a boarding pass. It was the right thing to do, but it sucked. Instead of getting my DH geek on, I slept for 16-20 hours every day for five days straight and followed along on twitter when I could stay awake. I know, I know. I should have gone to the doctor. I feel almost totally better now. Almost.
The dissertation is in bad shape, though, thanks to the mystery illness. I'm behind with one chapter and I have another one due at the end of the month. I basically need to finish two chapters in two weeks. That would be hilarious if it wasn't so awful.
Speaking of awful, the reason that I'm writing this at 5:00 a.m. is that the day I've dreaded for months now finally came and we had to say goodbye to Tank today. You might remember Tank's drama that I wrote about in March. I can't remember if I later wrote about how he actually had some sort of cancer in his bloodstream that attacks organs over time, but he did. For the past week or so, he stopped eating breakfast and eventually just picked at his dinner and acted very tired. We took him to the vet Monday, hoping it was just an infection, but knowing it wasn't. I had to take him to the vet because I was off, but my mom met me there because she's a control freak when it comes to the dogs. However, my dad's car was there, too, which immediately led to hysterics on my part (I'm not ashamed to admit it, I completely lost it) because I was afraid they wanted to put him to sleep right then and there, even though he was still happy, moving around, and eating. Fortunately, that didn't happen; the control freak just wanted my dad there in case it was necessary. The vet did warn us that it was only a matter of time and not much time at that. Wednesday we decided to put Tank to sleep Thursday night, but he didn't want to get out of my bed in the morning, even to go outside or to get a drink. He was in really rough shape, so I decided we should reschedule for as soon as possible, despite wanting to hold him and pet him and give him cuddles for as long as possible.
I really am glad he isn't suffering any more (I'm trying to be an adult about this!) and that I got to a point where I could admit it needed to happen, but today is my birthday and the only thing I want is a healthy Tank back and that just isn't going to happen. The worst is that his sister, Princess, starts wandering around the house, looking for him, every time she gets up and then she gets upset when she can't find him and then we all get upset all over again. I clearly do not do well with losing a pet.
Sleep well, my precious little Tank. I will love you and miss you forever and so will Princess.
To make a long story short, I've been sick with some sort of mystery illness that lasted about a month, but finally, finally. I'm pretty sure it was bronchitis, though I can't be certain because I don't have health insurance and can't go to the doctor or get a prescription unless I am near death. I felt sick enough for long enough, though, that I decided to skip DHSI in the interest of getting better and also not infecting everyone on my plane and at DHSI. You are welcome, people. It was miserable not going, since I've been looking forward to it for over a year and I kept thinking about how much money I lost because I can't get reimbursed for my travel award without a boarding pass. It was the right thing to do, but it sucked. Instead of getting my DH geek on, I slept for 16-20 hours every day for five days straight and followed along on twitter when I could stay awake. I know, I know. I should have gone to the doctor. I feel almost totally better now. Almost.
The dissertation is in bad shape, though, thanks to the mystery illness. I'm behind with one chapter and I have another one due at the end of the month. I basically need to finish two chapters in two weeks. That would be hilarious if it wasn't so awful.
Speaking of awful, the reason that I'm writing this at 5:00 a.m. is that the day I've dreaded for months now finally came and we had to say goodbye to Tank today. You might remember Tank's drama that I wrote about in March. I can't remember if I later wrote about how he actually had some sort of cancer in his bloodstream that attacks organs over time, but he did. For the past week or so, he stopped eating breakfast and eventually just picked at his dinner and acted very tired. We took him to the vet Monday, hoping it was just an infection, but knowing it wasn't. I had to take him to the vet because I was off, but my mom met me there because she's a control freak when it comes to the dogs. However, my dad's car was there, too, which immediately led to hysterics on my part (I'm not ashamed to admit it, I completely lost it) because I was afraid they wanted to put him to sleep right then and there, even though he was still happy, moving around, and eating. Fortunately, that didn't happen; the control freak just wanted my dad there in case it was necessary. The vet did warn us that it was only a matter of time and not much time at that. Wednesday we decided to put Tank to sleep Thursday night, but he didn't want to get out of my bed in the morning, even to go outside or to get a drink. He was in really rough shape, so I decided we should reschedule for as soon as possible, despite wanting to hold him and pet him and give him cuddles for as long as possible.
I really am glad he isn't suffering any more (I'm trying to be an adult about this!) and that I got to a point where I could admit it needed to happen, but today is my birthday and the only thing I want is a healthy Tank back and that just isn't going to happen. The worst is that his sister, Princess, starts wandering around the house, looking for him, every time she gets up and then she gets upset when she can't find him and then we all get upset all over again. I clearly do not do well with losing a pet.
Sleep well, my precious little Tank. I will love you and miss you forever and so will Princess.
Princess and Tank (right) hiding and cuddling under the kitchen table.
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