As the calendar turned to December and winter approached, I was looking forward to the cooler weather for hiking.  Winter where I live brings some rain and cold overnight temperatures, rarely freezing. Days are still temperate, with occasional sunny and reasonably warm days. For many, winter brings a season of family gatherings, parties, celebrations, and the joy of giving to loved ones.  The harsh reality of the winter season hardly permeates our consciousness. It’s easy to overlook the fact that many creatures struggle to survive the season.

I was excitedly looking forward to the Christmas holidays and time off from work.  I love Christmas and was anticipating the much-needed emotional boost. This was always a magical time of year for our family, but it quickly turned into a third dimension of the Twilight Zone — a mental walk somewhere between reality and nightmare.

Throughout most of December, I found myself fully engaged with proving myself at work, determined to show that I was a dedicated, value-add employee. I was intent on delivering timely, high quality assignments by investing more time than usual toward my career.  The only thing that had really changed in my attitude toward my career was a greater determination to reset the perceived diminution of capability with my extended absence, by working 60 hours a week instead of 50.

My daily schedule was very full between caring for my parents, my home, helping Wayne and Alex, working longer hours, and having to commute.  I had little time for other activities, which suited me fine, as I was still uncertain about how to talk with people about my long weekend.  I was keeping to myself, and busy with the things that I thought brought tangible positive change, and that might make me feel better about myself.

I was feeling tired.  Clearly, I had some emotional exhaustion with all the ups-and-downs, but it was also a bone-weary kind of tiredness, that I tried to ignore by exercising frequently. It sounds counter-intuitive, but my body always felt better when I pushed it physically, even when I was tired or ill.  I started to experience some pain in my shoulders, probably a result of sitting at my desk as I put in extra hours at work, typing on my laptop.  I did not pay inordinate attention to ergonomics, so it could well have been a response to the office set-up at work.  My shoulder pains started as stiffness, but progressed toward being more like frozen shoulder with a noticeable loss of mobility – I could not fully move and rotate my shoulder.  When I did try fully extending either of my arms, I would experience sharp pain.

Work was going relatively well, except for the self-imposed work hours.  I thought I was doing some of my best work; meeting deadlines, working well with associates, and making good progress overall on all my assignments. I was quickly learning the new skills associated with my new tasks and the job was going smoothly.

From an output perspective, work was routine.  From a day-to-day work experience perspective, things were not routine, with me still having some issues with what I call ‘weirdness’.  There were fewer times where I would make connections between things at work and my personal life, but I had not lost the sense that someone was watching me.  I was also very suspicious of everything and everyone, which included not trusting people, even family.

One morning I made my way into the breakroom at work for a cup of coffee.  Relieved to find the room empty, I quickly moved to the coffee maker to get a fresh cup.  As I passed by the lunch table, I noticed a blue, plastic, water bottle with the Kaiser Permanente logo and the words “Thrive” in white lettering on it.  As I filled my coffee cup to the rim, I thought about Kaiser and the fact that my parents were patients of the local Kaiser.  I spent a lot of time at Kaiser with my dad while he received regular blood infusions as part of his cancer treatment. I often went with him to his appointments, acting as his chauffer, and working from the Kaiser building while I waited for him.   Frequently, I brought my laptop to the appointments, logging on to my company network from the Kaiser facility, in order to work.

Wayne, Alex and I were co-existing much as we had for the last few months, meeting up as our schedules would allow.  My world was limited to work, my parents, Wayne and Alex. Alex had a part time job, working at a local restaurant and her schedule was packed with work, school, and Senior-year activities.  Wayne too was busy with work, friends, athletics and business travel.  Given the complexity of our schedules, it was rare that we were all available to spend time together.

I missed my family tremendously and longed for the routine of simple family dinner and watching TV.  Wayne would sit on “his” spot on the couch, legs crossed, left hand rubbing his forehead just below his hair line, iPad on his lap, shifting his gaze between the world news and reading online content. The spot on the couch was so ingrained, you could see the breakdown of the cushion, the large divot formed by his hairy German ass over the last 30 years.  Alex would sit on the love seat, stretched out, while I sat next to Wayne on the floor with my laptop nearby as I worked.  But these opportunities were rare, so I consoled myself by spending time with my parents, caring and nurturing them.

Longer work hours and sadness about my family life led me to a lot of emotional eating.  I had a non-stop craving for all things sugar.  One day at work, someone left a sign on the refrigerator in the break room letting us know that there were Haagen-Dazs bars for us to enjoy.  That just started my obsession and I couldn’t get enough.  I was eating way too many chocolate covered coffee ice cream bars. And I confess now, that I had some at home too, for dessert.  I’d love to say that I had complete discipline, but that would be a lie.  I found myself digging into Dove chocolate bars (the ones they have at Christmas) that were left on the breakroom table, as well.  Oddly enough, I wasn’t gaining any weight but rather losing weight, as my once form-fitting clothes started to swim on me.  Given my schedule and exercise habit, I didn’t think much of it.

As much as I wanted to pretend that everything was fine, I was stressed.  And my body hadn’t felt right in some time.  I assumed it was all related to everything else in my life.  I still had the pain in my hands and shoulders that I attributed to rheumatoid arthritis and frozen shoulder. I was also very fatigued.  But I fought it off.  I just needed to exercise it away. Or so I thought.  But I found myself feeling very heavy and somedays I couldn’t sit up from a lying down position. I would have to roll to my side and use the end table to pull myself up and out of bed.  I knew this wasn’t right, but I was so consumed with everything and everyone else in my life that I put it out of my mind.

Regularly I would struggle to get up in the morning, feeling tired and in pain.  I would get dressed in front of the mirror and think everything was fine, even when my clothes hung on me. I really didn’t notice it.  With sheer will, I would get myself out of the house and hike for an hour, which would reduce the physical pain and lack of strength. Moving my muscles and getting my blood flowing would give me temporary relief.  The lump on my left breast and in my armpit seemed to be growing rapidly or perhaps it was more noticeable due to the lost weight.

Photo by Alisa Anton on Unsplash