Mortality

I just found out a past sexual partner has hepatitis C. My first thoughts were for his welfare and state of mind but later, as I had time to myself, I started to think about me. Could I have gotten it from him? Is it possible that it hasn't yet been diagnosed?

Google searches followed and I'm pretty confident that I'm fine. I go to the doctor regularly, have blood tests every three months for other ailments, but then I remembered that there was that liver enzyme number that was inexplicably abnormal. Did they ever actually test for hep c?

But really, I'm sure I'm fine.

Just like when I had the MRI of my brain a few weeks ago. Way in the back of my thoughts was the idea that maybe there was something completely out of my control that was not easily fixed - like a brain tumor. I didn't really think there was, but this little bitty inkling sat in the back of my consciousness. It scared me. It made me frightened to think that despite doing all of the right things and going to all of my doctor appointments, taking my medicines and not engaging in high risk behavior, I could still end up with a sickness outside of my control. I will still end up at some point, faced with my own mortality.

That's f*cking depressing.

But then I started to think of that country song, "Live like you were dying". And if it was a brain tumor, how would I live my life? Would I be doing the things I'm doing now? Would I accept my life the way it is now? What would I change?

I don't think we should all be so short sighted to live every single day like it's our last, we would never graduate school or have careers. I already live by the mantra of letting people know how I feel and telling everyone I love them always. But in day to day life, especially now, I let the details overshadow my joy. There has been little to no joy in my life since I started teaching. That was never the goal. No one wants to live a life without joy. I don't think it's teaching that's doing it, I think it's the specific school and/or program that I've been working with.

But I didn't want to be a quitter. I bit my tongue, clenched my teeth (literally), made myself ill from keeping it all in. But I wasn't a quitter. I was going to stay the course. I had made a commitment. I had started this year and I was going to finish it. I would move on once my two years was up. Maybe once the school year was over. I was not going to leave mid-year, brain tumor or no brain tumor.

As fate often does, it intervened. After school let out for Christmas break, the principal called me into her office and told me that she was letting me go. She said it wasn't a good fit. I was shocked because there hadn't been any discipline write ups or warnings and said so, but she said this was her decision and that was that. I was walked to my classroom by the Dean and he watched me pack up my stuff.

Brain tumor or no brain tumor, I lost my job.
Christmas or no Christmas, I was fired.
Discipline or no discipline, no second chances.

My teaching career at this school was now dead.