I
have been pretty miserable for the past several weeks. First I had a flu that
didn’t want to get better, until I dosed up on “Nature’s Flu Shot.” Yuck – that
stuff was terrible; but it did give me a few days of respite before the next
infection set in.
I
have a pretty easy work schedule as a part-time instructor. I teach three
classes, back-to-back, on Mondays and Wednesdays. I work from 8:30 until 1:00.
Not bad, right? It allows me to volunteer in my kids’ classrooms three days a
week. And, I don’t just work the nine hours – although that’s what I’m technically
paid for. I spend twenty or more hours every week grading papers and preparing
my lectures.
This
week, thanks to Martin Luther King, Jr. day, I only had to report to work one
day: today. I was feeling terrible and so were my kids. I couldn’t send sick
kids to school – but there really isn’t much choice for me. I go to work: there’s
no option to stay home. Although, today I wish I had cancelled my classes and
stayed in bed.
I
made it through the first two classes – in a fog. But, things went smoothly. My
third and final class of the day started out okay, but ended in humiliation. It
was ten minutes before the end of class and I was talking to the students about
the difference between subject pronouns and object pronouns when I smacked the
back of my right hand into the corner of the metal eraser tray on the white
board. Yeouch! The pain tore through my body. But, I didn’t want to make a
scene. Ten minutes to go. I could do it. Or, not.
Within
seconds of hitting my hand, my vision was black and I knew I was going down. I
stopped the lecture, said, “Class dismissed,” and bolted for the door.
I
dashed into the main office heading back for the shared instructor workroom,
but ran into unexpected obstacles. I was feeling incredibly dizzy, my vision
was blurry-gray, and I knew I was going to pass out any second. Unfortunately,
someone had left some boxes in the walkway, and there was a person standing at
the copy machine. Swerve, smack, and Suzi hit the ground face first.
I
heard someone behind me say, “Call an ambulance.”
That
was enough to rouse me. I can’t afford an ambulance. Part-timers (adjunct
professors) do not receive health insurance benefits. “Don’t call an ambulance. I don’t have
insurance.” I said. And with the sound of water rushing in my left ear, I
lost consciousness.
Thankfully,
the ambulance was not called. I came to minutes later with my face in a pillow
and several of my colleagues standing over me discussing what had happened,
what forms needed to be filled out, the color of my complexion, etc. I lifted
my head to look behind me and saw a group of students watching from the foyer.
I’m
not sure how hitting my hand – it still hurts like heck! – caused me to black
out and faint. I think it was partially due to the recurring viral illness. I
went home and slept for hours, waking to read to my kids, write this blog, and
then return to my comfortable bed.
Someone
recently said to me, “Suzi, you’re still a faith healer, aren’t you?” I
said, “Yes, I am. I will always rely on faith. But I only avoid hospitals and
doctors because I cannot afford to go.”
I
believe that faith and medicine are not mutually exclusive. But, until I can
afford medical care, I’ll continue to be a faith healer by necessity.
