I am two weeks into a new job and I declare them the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad weeks.
First off, in my last week working for my old company I started getting really itchy eyes and a runny nose—figured I must have picked up some allergies in adulthood. I said goodbye to coworkers, hoping they would remember me for my charming, energetic self and not the bleary, bloodshot eyes that blinked back at them.
That’s okay though, I had four days to recuperate before making first impressions at a new job. I used the time to prep and clean.
I hefted a box full of networking gear over my head, pushing it onto the top shelf in the closet. It shifted slightly and a large black router slipped out of the top, careening down and whacking my face. I held my hand up to my nose and it was covered in blood.
It wasn’t as bad as I first feared, mostly a scratch. However I kept bleeding, which meant that in the morning I woke up with red, swollen eyes and blood crusted around the bandaid.
The next day would be my first day at work. I soldier on. One of my remote coworkers decides to make his once-a-year-trip to the office just to meet me in my super-fabulous condition: red-itchy-eyed, sneezing, and changing a bandaid every hour over the bridge of my nose.
A couple of days pass and I’m cooking up some frozen chicken for dinner in my oven at 450 F. Stick in the baking tray and bring my arm out, pressing right up against the door. I run it under cool water, cursing my fate. Later I check and it’s a severe burn, skin peeling off.
Today I ended the second week of work relatively pleased with how it went, and started biking home. When I changed lanes, my front tire snagged in a groove in the road and I fell, tearing my jeans and ripping up my hand as well.
I find out that I do not have allergies; indeed I’ve been suffering from pinkeye for the last four weeks, which is way longer than normal for the viral infection.
It was so long that I went in to an eye doctor. She decided to do a swab for some tests, standing over me with a swab in her hand and her assistant numbing my eye with some drops. It was still painful as she dug around my eye with her swab, and two days later they call and say they accidentally used an expired kit and so I’ll have to come back in to redo the test.
Since pink eye is highly contagious, I probably should have become a hermit for those four weeks instead of a big life transition. I am admittedly feeling a tad sorry for myself, but the lesson is that wounds heal and I will carry on, hopefully being more careful with large boxes, in the kitchen, on the road, and just generally in areas where pain is a possibility.
What happened during your big life transitions?