- M
- C
A few months ago, a coworker and I were discussing handouts after I had declined a customer's offer of a bottle of water. He observed, "you're not really one of those people who likes taking something for nothing." When I shrugged my shoulders dismissively, he continued, "What are you going to do during the zombie apocalypse? You'll have to accept water from strangers then."
My response was honest and to the point, "no, if the zombie apocalypse happens I'm just going to take what I need and I won't feel bad about it."
"Why?"
"Because those sons of bitches never did anything for me, so I'm taking their water..."
While I am neither mean spirited nor particularly vengeful, I am a social economist through and through. The people dearest to me have come to understand and accept my limited ability to be emotionally supportive. What I lack in social graces and compassion, I try to make up for with unwavering commitment and stoicism. Over the last decade, I've been able to set and accomplish fantastic goals by maintaining a singular focus: show up for work.
In 2005, I was hired in as a stock boy at less than $8 an hour. By 2010 I had introduced, proposed, and implemented the addition of a new department within the company. Today, I make a respectable income and operate a department with over 300 customers valued at over $250k a year. I own a 1600 square foot home in a respectable suburban neighborhood. I paid for and planned a wedding by working countless side jobs and being absent from my wife for months on end. I have a beautiful, intelligent daughter who never stops proving that she's all the best parts of her mother and I. I built it all to prove to myself that I am more than the 20 year old boy who ran away from home to start a new life. I built it all, but now I'm going to lose it all...
I blame myself and I blame my pride. When the accident happened, it took four anchors to put me back together and some of the damage had to be left unrepaired due to the complicated nature of the repair. That was February 8, 2013. Prior to surgery, I had received a raise and a notice that if I wasn't able to return to work by April 1st, the department would be liquidated, my position would revert back to its previous one and my raise would be revoked. So on April 1st, I loaded up on narcotics, smoked a joint, took a shot of whiskey and walked into the surgeons office and grit my teeth while he worked my arm through the full range of motion. Though he suspected my indiscretion, he was more than happy to sign me off and send me on my way with a 100% work release. It had been seven weeks since my surgery.
The first week I returned to work, I opened 20 pools. The following week, I worked 80 hours and opened 36 pools. After that, summer was in full effect and I punched the clock 12-14 hours a day 6-7 days a week for the next 6 months. By the end of the season, I was pretty beat up, but with winter, came the break my body needed to recover from the damage I had caused it.
2014 was much of the same. Work set in the 1st of April and was unrelenting until the week of Thanksgiving. I was more sore than usual -dropping tools and losing feeling in my right hand - and in July was treated for nerve damage in the affected arm, but as work was priority at the time, treatment consisted of a cortisone shot and a slap on the ass. By the end of the season, I was distracted by pain, but was able to ignore it mostly due to another distraction - we welcomed home baby Addison and the joys of fatherhood outweighed the pains my body produced.
Unfortunately, the greatest gift in my life, came with added responsibilities and my normal winter hibernation was disrupted by cluster feedings, diaper changes, and many sleepless nights. By April of this year, I knew I was pushing the limits of what I could handle. I felt as sore as the day I had stopped closing pools five months prior. I was tired and run down. I was running on borrowed reserves and I knew I would have to pay a hefty tole once this season came to an end. By June, I knew I wouldn't make it through the season.
Long story short, I'm facing off against a workers comp insurance company. All I want is to get better - all they want is to save a few dollars. To my benefit, Michigan is a no fault state and there is no dispute I was injured on the job. To the insurer's benefit, they'll get to drag this out for 18 months before a magistrate will force the issue. My only recourse to speed the process of my recovery is to follow my doctor's recommendation and not work until I have the surgery. Doing this forces my hand to seek a settlement and pay for the surgery out of pocket. It may also be the only way this doesn't end up killing me.
I'm a miserable prick most days. I can't think straight through a haze of Valium and pain meds. I can't perform the most basic functions of my job, causing animosity from my coworkers and supervisors. My child constantly cries at me because she can't understand why daddy can't hold her and play with her. I walk into stores and restaurants several paces behind my wife, with my head hung down so I don't have to make eye contact with other men as my 100 pound wife struggles with a growing infant. My marriage suffers because by wife must bear the brunt of my frustration and the weight of my growing distance. And through it all, I'm watching the product I worked so hard to create slip out of my fingers.
I've never asked for a hand out and have never been willing to accept one, but this has stopped being about me and my pain. I want my family back. I want to be a husband and a father again. I know it's so much to ask and I feel ashamed, knowing there are so many people worse off than me, but if you can help in any way I will forever be greatful.
With the gathered funds, I will be able to pay my portion of the surgery ($6000) as well as keep my family afloat over the minimum 8 weeks before I would be able to return to work. I know it's a lot to ask - that number looms heavy in my thoughts most nights - but every little bit adds up. Thank you for taking a moment to read my story and to those of you who have been motivated into action, I may never be able to say it, but I love you.
-David
My response was honest and to the point, "no, if the zombie apocalypse happens I'm just going to take what I need and I won't feel bad about it."
"Why?"
"Because those sons of bitches never did anything for me, so I'm taking their water..."
While I am neither mean spirited nor particularly vengeful, I am a social economist through and through. The people dearest to me have come to understand and accept my limited ability to be emotionally supportive. What I lack in social graces and compassion, I try to make up for with unwavering commitment and stoicism. Over the last decade, I've been able to set and accomplish fantastic goals by maintaining a singular focus: show up for work.
In 2005, I was hired in as a stock boy at less than $8 an hour. By 2010 I had introduced, proposed, and implemented the addition of a new department within the company. Today, I make a respectable income and operate a department with over 300 customers valued at over $250k a year. I own a 1600 square foot home in a respectable suburban neighborhood. I paid for and planned a wedding by working countless side jobs and being absent from my wife for months on end. I have a beautiful, intelligent daughter who never stops proving that she's all the best parts of her mother and I. I built it all to prove to myself that I am more than the 20 year old boy who ran away from home to start a new life. I built it all, but now I'm going to lose it all...
I blame myself and I blame my pride. When the accident happened, it took four anchors to put me back together and some of the damage had to be left unrepaired due to the complicated nature of the repair. That was February 8, 2013. Prior to surgery, I had received a raise and a notice that if I wasn't able to return to work by April 1st, the department would be liquidated, my position would revert back to its previous one and my raise would be revoked. So on April 1st, I loaded up on narcotics, smoked a joint, took a shot of whiskey and walked into the surgeons office and grit my teeth while he worked my arm through the full range of motion. Though he suspected my indiscretion, he was more than happy to sign me off and send me on my way with a 100% work release. It had been seven weeks since my surgery.
The first week I returned to work, I opened 20 pools. The following week, I worked 80 hours and opened 36 pools. After that, summer was in full effect and I punched the clock 12-14 hours a day 6-7 days a week for the next 6 months. By the end of the season, I was pretty beat up, but with winter, came the break my body needed to recover from the damage I had caused it.
2014 was much of the same. Work set in the 1st of April and was unrelenting until the week of Thanksgiving. I was more sore than usual -dropping tools and losing feeling in my right hand - and in July was treated for nerve damage in the affected arm, but as work was priority at the time, treatment consisted of a cortisone shot and a slap on the ass. By the end of the season, I was distracted by pain, but was able to ignore it mostly due to another distraction - we welcomed home baby Addison and the joys of fatherhood outweighed the pains my body produced.
Unfortunately, the greatest gift in my life, came with added responsibilities and my normal winter hibernation was disrupted by cluster feedings, diaper changes, and many sleepless nights. By April of this year, I knew I was pushing the limits of what I could handle. I felt as sore as the day I had stopped closing pools five months prior. I was tired and run down. I was running on borrowed reserves and I knew I would have to pay a hefty tole once this season came to an end. By June, I knew I wouldn't make it through the season.
Long story short, I'm facing off against a workers comp insurance company. All I want is to get better - all they want is to save a few dollars. To my benefit, Michigan is a no fault state and there is no dispute I was injured on the job. To the insurer's benefit, they'll get to drag this out for 18 months before a magistrate will force the issue. My only recourse to speed the process of my recovery is to follow my doctor's recommendation and not work until I have the surgery. Doing this forces my hand to seek a settlement and pay for the surgery out of pocket. It may also be the only way this doesn't end up killing me.
I'm a miserable prick most days. I can't think straight through a haze of Valium and pain meds. I can't perform the most basic functions of my job, causing animosity from my coworkers and supervisors. My child constantly cries at me because she can't understand why daddy can't hold her and play with her. I walk into stores and restaurants several paces behind my wife, with my head hung down so I don't have to make eye contact with other men as my 100 pound wife struggles with a growing infant. My marriage suffers because by wife must bear the brunt of my frustration and the weight of my growing distance. And through it all, I'm watching the product I worked so hard to create slip out of my fingers.
I've never asked for a hand out and have never been willing to accept one, but this has stopped being about me and my pain. I want my family back. I want to be a husband and a father again. I know it's so much to ask and I feel ashamed, knowing there are so many people worse off than me, but if you can help in any way I will forever be greatful.
With the gathered funds, I will be able to pay my portion of the surgery ($6000) as well as keep my family afloat over the minimum 8 weeks before I would be able to return to work. I know it's a lot to ask - that number looms heavy in my thoughts most nights - but every little bit adds up. Thank you for taking a moment to read my story and to those of you who have been motivated into action, I may never be able to say it, but I love you.
-David