Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

In 2002 I landed the job of my dreams. I worked in the corporate offices of a local chain of grocery stores. Fox's Markets. I adored my job and the people I worked with. I thought I would work there for the rest of my life. I was certainly committed to the Fox's for that long. Turns out, I only worked there for about five years.

Being so in love with my job blinded me to the reality of the situation. We were a handful of small grocery stores competing against huge chains who had no remorse about opening a superstore in a small town where Fox's had been the only store since 1968. I couldn't see the handwriting on the wall. I was gob smacked when I learned we'd been sold.

Sure, I could have clambered for one of the few positions they were offering to the corporate employees. But I couldn't stand the thought of being in the business without the Fox's. So I ventured out into the job market. Forty five years old. It didn't occur to me to be afraid I might not land a job!

As it turned out, I walked out of Fox's on the last day and the next day I started a job in an accounting firm. I lasted there five weeks.

Now, here's the magic that is my life... In the last week at the horrible accounting firm, I got an email from a place who had seen my resume on one of those on-line job search places. They called me and described the job. It was back in the health care field. A field I'd spent many years in.

I interviewed on a Wednesday afternoon. Turns out, it was a nursing home. I'd never worked in a nursing home. But the people seemed nice, they were desperate for help and I was desperate for a change.

That Wednesday night, I got a call from the alarm company that monitored my mother's apartment. She had pushed her "I've fallen and I can't get up" button, and an ambulance was on their way to her house. No sooner had the alarm company called, my mother called. As usual, I rushed over to her house.

Ugh. I found her covered in every excreted substance you can think of. Her apartment was covered as well. The ambulance guys were gagging in the living room. I managed to get my mom into the shower and clean her off, hoping we could get her to the hospital before the next bout hit.

They took her out. I surveyed the carnage of her apartment. My impulse was to lock the door and forget she ever lived there. But that isn't how I deal with things. I rolled up my sleeves and cleaned up a mess that I cannot begin to describe to you.

On Thursday, I was told that Mom had suffered a third stroke. She would not be able to return to her apartment. She'd already been looking into nursing homes, but was rejected by all of them. She had nothing and they didn't want her. Also on Thursday, the nursing home called me in for a second interview. They were desperate.

On Friday, I had my second interview. I also asked them to take my mother.

Doesn't that sound like a GREAT IDEA???? I can WORK where my mother LIVES!!!

I got the job. Mom got the bed. And we descended into a year of hell. I won't even drag you through all the things my mother has pulled this year. Suffice it to say, "My co-workers have seen my mother naked." My boss tried to make a joke of it by saying, "Nansi! I saw your mom walking down the hall yesterday, I thought we should iron her pants suit. Then I realized she was naked." Ba-dump bump.

So here I am, a year later. A lot of experiences have been logged in my brain. I've cried a bucket of tears. And honestly, I have not slept more than a couple of straight hours since this journey started. I spend many hours worrying about Mom. Worrying about my job. Wondering if I'll ever pull it all off.