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My wife is negative. Urine test for my daughter came back negative.
Still waiting on the results from the swab, so we’re not out of the woods just yet. I’m annoyed by a few things. First, we had to call public health. I suppose it can be argued that they were waiting for all the tests to come back before calling, but considering the fact that my wife has had to take four straight days of sick leave time from work, it would have been nice of them to make that call instead of us having to call them for the result.
The other thing is that people in my office had a tantrum over it. The doctor cleared me, public health cleared me, and management says that’s enough. What pissed me off wasn’t their panic, but the fact that this was my unit that had the problem. One of these people was supposedly a friend of mine, and she never once said she was uncomfortable sitting near me. Not once. In fact, nobody has said a word to that effect. Nobody.
I’m medically clear. I’m immune. The public health official laughed when my supervisor told her about the panic, and apparently the exact wording was: he doesn’t have it and he can’t give anyone something he doesn’t have.
The truth is this: I’m medically cleared. The doctor says I’m good. Public health says I’m good. This area has had a good handful of cases. I work with the public. NEWSFLASH, motherfuckers, they’re not taking this situation lightly.
So, again, I’m medically cleared. I’m immune. I can’t give them something I don’t have. I’m here because I have to manage my time off due to the impending birth of my son in two fucking months. I’m here to make sure nobody else gets stuck with my fucking case load while I’m out.
Thing is, I FUCKING GET IT. 100%. I understand the panic. What I don’t understand is the complete lack of support. People want to do potlucks every month and pass around cards and request donations when a relative dies or whatever, yet when I get put in a tough position that every single one of them could just as easily find themselves in, where I don’t even WANT to fucking come in, like I wouldn’t rather be home with my family right now…… and zero support. Nobody has my fucking back. My supervisor does, which is a very pleasant surprise, but nobody else. Sorry, but that’s fucked up. At a minimum, talk to me. Say something. Let me know, ask questions, fucking say something. I’m human. Don’t treat me like a gotdamned leper. I get the ‘what’ 100%, but the ‘how’ definitely bothers me.
It’s this type of shit that makes me want keep 100% to myself at work. I’ve made genuine friends at work- here included- but damn if this shit doesn’t reinforce my apathetic worldview that people really, truly don’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves.
Motherfuckers wonder why I always have a chip on my shoulder, why I have a ‘me against the world’ air about me, and shit like this is why. I’ve tried to change that over the years but things like this make me think I was on the right track to begin with. Yeah, I’m being sensitive, I’m sure people will even call me a baby for it. So be it. It’s no two ways for me though, and I’m able to either allow myself such emotions or I’m a fucking icebox to the world…. And that’s where people always seem to wonder what my problem is.
Thank god it’s Friday, thank god my wife and unborn son are good, and thank god my daughter is at least half way in the clear, but motherfuuuuuuuuuuck these people I spend that 50 hours a week with. Typically, I would have updated my coworkers about the new developments. This time I just told my supervisor. She can let them know.
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