This is a very true story. Throughout my early twenties, while we battled with the news of being infertile, I was in college getting my cosmetology license. I was nearly finished, going to school full time, 10 hours a day, 6 days a week when my doctor told me that while I was trying to become pregnant, it was not a good idea to be working so closely around the chemicals in my line of work. At the same time, I had developed serious allergies to them. My hands would break out even when I wore gloves, and it was worse when I had to work in the dispensary (the chemical mixing room). Even being in the same room with the stuff was toxic to me. I could hardly breathe, my entire body would start to itch and my skin turned splotchy red and rashy. One day at school we had a seminar about chemical allergies, and I learned that my problem was one that a huge percentage of students develop while still in school, and can't go on. But I wasn't about to quit. I was almost done, and I knew if I quit I would still have to pay my entire school loan off anyway, so I stuck it out and managed to graduate in the spring of 2005. I was so happy I finished! Even though I had no idea what I would do from there, I was thrilled I finally completed something, and I'll always be proud of it. I later learned that chemical sensitivity and sudden allergies are one of the many problems caused by PCOS.
As it turned out, I just stuck to cutting hair from home, and doing manicures & pedicures; things that didn't require too many chemicals. Besides, I didn't want to get a job at a salon because one of the things I learned in school is that most of the income from a cosmetologist comes from the sale of products, and I had just come from the working world of retail and never again wanted to be a salesperson in my life! So, anyway, to make a long story not quite as long, I'll sum this up to say I let my cosmetology license expire--quite accidentally--when we moved and didn't provide them with a change of address to remind me. By the time I figured it out, it was too late to renew, and the only way to get a new license was to retake both the practical and written state board exams all over again. Those were the most gut-wrenchingly nerve-wracking tests I've ever endured in my life, and it took a 6 week course to prepare for it on top of that. To take them again would be a nightmare!
So, after crying about my cosmetology license and beating myself up about it for a few months, our financial situation became dire, and I knew I had to find something else to do. Because of the economy and the fact that my husband works for the city, we weren't sure that he was going to be able to keep his job, and even if he did, I wanted to be able to earn more so that we could really start to save for our baby. In an effort to scramble and get a job that would be in high demand, after much thought and debate with many individuals, I finally decided to go back to school again and become a CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant). It took me 1 quarter of intense classroom and lab work, and 8 weeks of Clinicals (working as a student NA at a healthcare facility shadowing other CNAs). Then, ironically, I had to take the equivalent of the state boards for my CNA, both practical and written. By sheer luck, I passed.
I got a job at a rehabilitation center in January of 2009, and it was an eye-opening experience. Because the demand for CNAs are high (which is the reason I picked this line of work), there are never enough on staff. So, being a CNA was hard work. I gained my own group of about 10-12 residents to care for daily, but it seemed more often than not, that number would go up. I felt I was very good at my job, and worked well under the constant pressure to complete my work on time. The residents--all of them who actually knew what was going on (and even some who didn't)--took a liking to me that really surprised me, and would even tell me often that I was their favorite aide and ask for me when I wasn't there. I did my best for them, even when I knew properly caring for that many people at once was nearly impossible. Even my boss said more than once that I was her "nicest CNA", and "one of the best". I thought I was a great asset to them, but the truth became clear not long after I started there. They were strict, and set unrealistic goals to their staff. I began to notice that the turnover rate for the nursing staff was distrubingly high. Either they were fired, or they quit, and when they quit, it was interesting to note they never gave a 2 week notice. They just left. But I was still determined to stay and work as hard as I could. I took extra shifts whenever they were available, and I was a golden employee.
In the summer of 2009, I instantly lost my golden employee status when I began to feel the repercussions of my hard work. I was getting more and more intense severe pain attacks in my abdomen which I attributed to my Endometriosis and Polycystic ovaries. The "attacks", as I call them, would start as sharp, stabbing pain that would stop me in my tracks, then throb constantly while causing me too become nauseous and dizzy. I noticed that whenever I ate, and occasionally upon waking I would feel this rebelling nausea as well and would become completely immobile. So I soon just did not eat much at all. People at work would laugh that they never saw me eat. All I did was get coffee or a smoothie at lunch. Drinking anything never seemed to cause me problems. I saw my GP several times about these "attacks", and he ordered test upon grueling test. He thought perhaps it was my gallbladder, and when it turned out not to be, he said it's probably my Endometriosis, and he didn't know what else to do for me. I was just to call if it got any worse. So, I could do nothing else. Pain pills are useless on sudden pain attacks like this, unless I take them daily, but no doctor wanted to prescribe a youthful girl like myself such a liver destroying prescription that may not do any good anyway, so I was on my own.
So, for many of my work days, I had to call in "sick" to go to doctor's appointment or just when it was impossible for me to fathom working at such an intense job in my painful condition. I always got a doctor's note and gave them to my boss upon returning to work. because no staff member was allowed to call in more than 3 days in a 30-day period. If you did, you got written up. If you called in again, after that you got a write up and a verbal warning that if you did it a third time, you were fired.
After several write ups for calling in, I was called to a meeting with two of my bosses, and the director of nursing. They actually grilled me about whether or not I was serious about working there anymore, and wondered why I was "slacking off". I was shocked they had written me up because I turned in my doctors notes every time! For some reason I was under the impression that handing them in would prove that my call-ins were legitimate and that I was not "slacking off". Apparently, doctors notes don't mean anything to them. I set them straight about my problem, even though I had already talked to my direct boss about it several times, and she played like she didn't know. They came to the conclusion that I had to not call in for 3 months, and only then would I be off the hook again. In order to do this, they said I should come in even if I'm sick! I actually laughed at them. I just said I can hope I don't have any problems for 3 months, but there's no way I can promise I won't call in. If I'm sick, I'm not going to come to work! Besides, there was a sign on every door of our facility that stated that because of the H1N1 virus, anyone experiencing any symptom of illness should not come inside, and wouldn't the health department have a hay day if they heard that these guys were telling their employees to come to work at a healthcare facility while sick!
I walked out of that office thinking I was going to have to quit. The next day when myself and 4 other CNAs were written up for not doing resident showers (something that was completely not our fault, because we were severely understaffed that day and showers were luxuries we had no time to give), I was exhausted mentally and physically and completely ready to quit. After calling my husband at work to vent about my day, I went home and typed out my resignation letter. I intended to tell them everything I felt. I had a couple days off after that, and after talking to a co-worker, I cooled off a bit from the incident, and decided not to give my notification.
Ironically, a few days later, I awoke in crippling pain again, and with this sense of doom, I knew it was over. There was no way on the face of the earth that I was going to get dressed and go to work that morning. Mike called in for me, and told them he was taking me to the ER, and I was not going to be able to come in. A few hours later (after my boss showed up for work) she left a message on our home phone stating that I was terminated and did not need to show up for my shift the next day. My loving and beyond irate husband took my letter into my work for me the next day anyway just because I wanted them to hear my thoughts, and while he was at it, he gave them a piece of his mind as well. I was proud of him. We later contacted a lawyer about my termination, and were told that it would be difficult to press charges because in the state of Washington, it's legal to fire employees for no reason at all!
The reason I wrote this huge story is because I wanted you to see what we have struggled through during our journey to parenthood, and how completely unfair this country really is. I just felt that it was extremely ironic that I should go back to school to get a really stable job so that we can get over our infertility, just to be fired from that job for having painful conditions that made me infertile!
It is our hope that the new healthcare reform being debated now will kick-start a whole new way that insurance companies do business, and that eventually, the people with the very real problems like ours will be heard and helped.
