Sunday, February 18, 2007

Good luck, good luck

One stroke of damn good luck is all I need. And it couldn’t come soon enough to be completely honest. I’ve been hesitant to post as I am fully aware that my last few posts haven’t been the sparkiest I’ve ever banged out … and this one isn’t overly different.

It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Mind you, it hasn’t all been doom and gloom but it’s been one hell of a rough ride.

WORK:
I’ve mentioned work stuff in passing a couple of times since my blog’s inception but never in a terrible lot of depth. But it seems to have become a subject that I’ve mentioned a fair bit of late. I guess the increasingly frequent references to work/gaining employment may give you a subtle hint as to the reason for my ‘life headache’ at present.

Over the past 6 months, Rob and I have been toying with what to do in regards to work and relocation. Our first plan was for him to get a job in Kuwait. I was to join him shortly after he settled into his new job and we’d be happily re-united, never to be parted again. Simple enough plan, huh? You would think so but no. Rob secured a contract with a company in Kuwait. He relocated from Saudi to Kuwait in September of last year. Once we knew he had a job in Kuwait, I started job hunting. I knocked on every imaginable door. I have spent almost 6 months sending emails, making phonecalls, distributing my CV to anyone and everyone who offered to take it with them to Kuwait (patient’s relatives, international PR representatives from my hospital who frequently visited Kuwait), sending faxes, writing proposals, attending meetings and finally, flying to Kuwait personally. All of this has been to pretty much no avail. Sorry, I stand corrected. One hospital in Kuwait made an offer. They were keen to hire me for the grand sum of 1000 USD per month which is peanuts professionally for my experience and, after staying in Kuwait for a week, wouldn’t stretch very far at all. Besides which, the hospital itself looked like an old missionary building. It was falling down, plaster crumbling off the walls, plastic plants covered with inch thick dust and had a generally unkempt feel to it. I shuddered at first glance. I knew I could never work there and certainly wouldn’t be happy going to work each morning.

In June last year, the hospital I currently work for told me they were thinking about setting up a post in the Middle East and felt I would be the most suitable candidate for a number of reasons: a) I had lived in the Middle East previously, b) I worked for and understood how the London hospital operated, c) I speak Arabic, d) I want to be in the Middle East and e) I have a partner who I would be with (as they were concerned about sending a single female into the position). I was told that it was likely to be up and running by the end of the year. It’s now February and the project is still no further than it was back then. Okay that’s not quite true. I have been reassured that it is DEFINITELY going ahead. The logistics and legalities including establishing the parameters of my contract and salary/benefits are supposedly underway. But … it still feels like everything is at a standstill as I have not seen anything in writing.

In the first meeting I had with management at my hospital regarding the position, I was pushing for the position to be based in Kuwait as at the time Rob and I were still set on me joining him there. Management stated they felt the position would be better suited to being set up in the UAE due to the Ministry of Health from the UAE had been in strong favour of the hospital setting up a branch and the Kuwait Ministry of Health was yet to be convinced.

Because of all the to and fro-ing the hospital was doing, Rob and I discussed returning to Saudi together. I contacted a number of recruitment agents and found one that recruited to one of the better hospitals in Riyadh. Within two weeks I had a job interview and a job! Rob then said he would apply to the US military outpost in Riyadh to see if there were any civilian positions he could take up. He too was offered a job quite soon after expressing interest.

So, we then were faced with a dilemma. Do we hang out to see if I’m posted to Kuwait with my hospital or accept the jobs we were offered in Saudi? We had to make a decision BEFORE I visited Kuwait. I knew Rob wasn’t that excited about his current job in Kuwait. I knew the job in Saudi had really piqued his interest. We agreed that Rob would take the job in Saudi (which would benefit his career and training) and I would, with a little good luck and management, take the position that my hospital was proposing in the UAE (as it would help diversify my career and job opportunities plus it would be an exciting challenge). We discussed this being the plan for the next 6 months. There was just one little problem.

The hospital in Saudi was in the process of securing a letter of no objection from my previous hospital (there is a law in Saudi that after you cease a contract for one employer, you are obliged to that employer for two years post end of contract; should you wish to return and work for another employer within that time frame, a letter of no objection/release is required from your previous place of employment. If a letter cannot be obtained, you cannot work for a new employer until after the two year period). I told Rob that I was in knots over what to do. What if the hospital got the letter (which they told me shouldn’t be a problem)? How would I turn down the position when 6 months later I was hoping to go to Saudi? I was torn. I wanted the hospital to get the letter and at the same time I didn’t so I could accept my current hospital’s proposed position without feeling bad. I tell you. Be careful what you wish for. After the trip to Kuwait, I still had not heard anything back regarding how things were progressing with the Saudi thing. I sent an email to the Head of OT to see if she had a handle on what was going on.

It was at this point I became so fed up with my hospital’s promises that I said to Rob that I was just going to go ahead with the Saudi job. But then I got the email that changed everything and has left me feeling completely shattered and aghast. I was told that I letter could not be obtained. Not only that but my previous employer in Saudi had given me an unfavourable reference. WHAT THE? I asked if they had got the right personnel file. It just didn’t make sense. My ceasation of employment with my previous Saudi hospital was amicable. I completed my contract – I was not fired. I had never had any disciplinary action against me. I was given a pay rise. I resigned after a year and rescinded my resignation and was contracted back without issue. And if I had anything to hide, would I have agreed to them checking into my personnel file at my previous Saudi workplace? So, where did this unfavourable reference come from? Well, as far as I can work out, it was generated by the department bully. The Head of Physiotherapy. She never liked me … for a variety of reasons all of them personal, none of them professional. What can you do when someone just doesn’t like you? Not much. But not only did she not like me but she bullied me and harassed me to tears most days. It was the main reason for me leaving and coming to London – before I fell apart and had some type of nervous breakdown. This conniving rat (whom I am so tempted to name) has now influenced a prospective employer’s perspective and opinion of me. It is unlikely the new hospital will hire me even after the two year obligatory period is up based on this reference (which I am yet to find out what exactly was said … I am so angry that my prospective employer knows something about me that not even I do) even though every other workplace reference is favourable (do we not see an inconsistency here?!). I am considering taking legal action against this spineless, nasty, sad human being. I would be able to sue for defamation of character and God help me, if I can’t iron this out myself, I will take her on. No one messes with my professional reputation and livelihood without expecting a fight. I hope this woman’s karma train comes around really soon.

So, the whole work thing remains up in the air. I have been requested to put a salary proposal on the department manager’s desk next Friday and find out the ins/outs of working in the Middle East (visas and setting up a business). I just have to keep my fingers crossed that all this will come together in the very near future. That very near future has only 8 weeks left on it’s working visa! *Gulp*

ROB:
The week in Kuwait with Rob was wonderful but the time went way too quickly. Rob was rather amazed at my recent weight loss and toning. The funniest thing he said to me was, “Your head is so small!”. I’ve lost a lot of weight off my face which makes it (& my head?!) look smaller. He constantly told me how beautiful I was – it meant the world to me. Don’t get me wrong, he has always told me I’m beautiful … but now that I’m losing weight and feeling much better about myself, I’m starting to believe the things he tells me.

I miss Rob. I’m so angry that the option to be with him in Saudi has been taken away from us by the aforementioned prat.

HEALTH:




And as for the weight loss thingy. I put on a kilo while in Kuwait with Rob but in the two weeks I’ve been back I have lost 2.6kgs. This is mainly due to an overtight fill. Yeah-huh. It was super tight. To the point where I was constantly in pain. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t drink (except for 1 ½ glasses of water over a 14 hour period). I couldn’t sleep. When I would try to sleep, it was in a seated position due to reflux and vomitting. I aspirated on some of the contents of my pouch two nights in a row and ended up with a chest infection. The secretions from my chest infection were thick and gluey. I was told to take antibiotics and drink more water to make the secretions more fluid to get them out of my body. Ha! I couldn’t take my antibiotic or loosen up the secretions by drinking more fluids because I was flat out getting a mouthful of water down!

I had 1.2cc removed on Saturday. Which means I had the previous weekend’s fill (1cc) and then some removed. What a waste of cash and time! The doctor was concerned about the state I was in when I arrived at the surgery. He advised me to have the entire contents of my band removed and start from scratch in a week or two. What?! That would mean I would have to build up the amount in the band again and pay for all six fills! Financially, I couldn’t afford to do that. So, as a compromise he took out what he did and advised if things don’t improve I would have to have the band completely emptied, which I agreed with … IF it didn’t improve. He has kindly said he would do the next fill free of charge. Bless him. He’s not the kind of guy to give favours or exceptions either.

I am now feeling 1000% better. I have been drinking water for England. I have been able to get all my tablets including the antibiotic down without incident. I am able to eat again albeit much smaller portions than prior to my fill two weeks ago (even though I have less fluid in my band!). I am able to sleep. And flat out like a lizard too! I have no reflux. No vomiting. My headaches have gone and my chest infection is starting to budge (I think).

***
So, all I need now is a hefty stroke of good luck! Things can only get better from here … surely!

Thursday, February 01, 2007

Gravity's got my ta-tas

It's weird.

In my head I KNOW my body has changed significantly over the past 6 months. I mean, for the love of all things holy, I have dropped nearly 20kg. Not something to be sneezed at. But ...

I still have days where I feel yuck and lardy in my own skin. I feel like nothing has changed ... that I am still a hefty 96.4kg. I feel like a huge failure. I feel like my bloody body isn't playing fair. And I revert to previous habits ... like having an intimate knowledge of family size block of chocolate. For shame. Admittedly, these episodes are now very few and far between ... all the same, when it happens it rocks me to the core.

This week has been stressful. My job has been extremely intense and, most unusual for me, I have taken patient problems home with me ... I have found myself laying in the dark mulling stuff over in my head and turning myself into knots. On top of this - or probably because of this! - I have had incredible back and sciatic pain for the last two days (today I sported the uber sexy 'Dick Wicks' magnetic back brace under my work pants ... I felt like a complete freak and had to pee like a pregnant woman all day because the brace was pushing directly onto my bladder!). Because of the back pain and worry ... I haven't slept for two nights. And because of my poorly back and lack of energy, I haven't been to the gym or yoga in two days. I feel rather blah. It's been a bit of a vicious circle really.

On Tuesday, I found myself really struggling with my body image. As I stood in front of the mirror in the yoga studio stretching and pushing my body hard ... instead of appreciating how hard my body was working, I started picking fault with it. All I could see were these lardy tricep wings. Like two doughy loaves of bread hanging down as I got into the warrior position. I glanced around the room and all I saw were lovely sculpted arms. My heart sunk. I then bent forward into the triangle pose to stretch my hamstrings ... and I couldn't help but notice the muscle bunching on my back (due to my scoliosis). It looked repulsive (but which, to be fair, has improved since I started to yoga but will obviously never be completely normal). My heart sunk even further. After class, in the crowded change room, fraught with bras and panties, bare bottoms and bobbing bossoms ... I snuck a peek at my fellow yoga comrades. I envied the pert bottoms, flat stomachs and perky breasts with nipples located where God intended them. It only served to make me feel wretched. My bum is wide but flat. It's starting to get a little roundness going but it's never going to rival J.Lo. My stomach on the other hand, continues to be round ... I know it's shrinking but is it ever going to be flat? Am I ever going to be able to wear a string bikini or tiny g-string without having a roll that prevents the skimpy material from sitting flat on my body? Hey, do you think God made me the wrong way around? You know, flat bum and round tummy ... when it should be the other way?! Bugger. And then there's my boobs. They rival those of an African tribeswoman who has never worn a bra for a day in her life ... mine, however, have been bound and gagged since they appeared and yet they have sagged terribly. I can't even blame the sag on having fed the hungry mouths of babes. Gravity just got hold of my ta-ta's and has steadfastily refused to let go. I would so love to have perky not pendulous breasts. The ever gorgeous Rob has said to me if I feel at the end of the weight loss parlava, I'd like my boobs to be augmented/lifted, he'd cough up. Well baby, you'd better just start saving!

So, in a nut shell (Help! I'm in a nutshell! - Austin Powers) I have had a blah week.