Not The Matrix. As in the movies. The absence management company.
I have an intermittent FMLA leave that I use when my body can’t tolerate my job. I thought, after having two different doctors fill it out at least three times (yes, I lost count) that I was approved for 40 hours a month of leave. Now, not understanding that is probably my fault.
But the curt paper pusher that told me I had 15 days to submit new paperwork could have been more patient. Apparently, my leave only entitles me to ONE episode per month of UP TO 40 hours. I called out sick in mid July and left work ninety minutes early today– so that 9.5 hours is not allowed because it’s in two episodes not one.
This is the type of bullshit one has to deal with when you try to advocate for yourself in an able-bodied world.
My hip has been inflamed– at least that’s what my darling chiropractor says, I say it feels crooked and like I’m dragging around a tree trunk– for several days now and getting progressively worse. So when my numbers slipped down to 97% today I tapped out, in part because of discomfort but also because the discomfort was causing me to fall behind and if I fall behind I will be penalized.
And the concern becomes: if I end up “not fully performing” in my end days, will I lose my severance?
But these are all my thoughts at the end of the day. At the beginning of the day I had to release my cat Fog from a crate and package a fecal sample for the vet. He has worms. I know it. I see it. As a cat rescue worker, I had the first medicine of defense, Pyrantel, but that didn’t work so he might have a tapeworm (that comes from ingesting a flea) and that requires Drontal which I don’t have. I think Touch of Grey (one of the two remaining fosters) might have worms, too.
Southern Candy didn’t come to work today for her own health reasons which had a friend and I ready to send out search and rescue dogs.
And Gayle, my friend and the art director, had eye surgery today which was pretty serious stuff but she texted that she can see so all is well so far.
Meanwhile, my neurologist responded to a message I had sent during her vacation and now she wants me to go for a urine test– but no one seems to know where I can go. And I don’t have time to go. So, if I have to go for a urine test, I thought I’d check with my doctor and see if I need other tests before my upcoming physical. They ended up ordering a urine test because the neurologist didn’t yet. But they missed the part about the other tests.
Now we’re all confused.
My neurologist is afraid I have some sort of UTI, which I think I’ve only had one of those in my entire almost-fifty-year life and I remember pain being part of that equation. Why they think I might have a UTI contributing to my issues I don’t know.
But there’s just too many things I need to figure out and organize. And I’m mentally and physically exhausted by it all.
The questions become:
Why must organizing care be so complicated?
Why do employers make health-related issues such a hoop-jumping process?
I’m running out of steam– there are so many things to do and to talk about that I just can’t get to them all. And that’s okay.
I have commitments. I was elected president of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. I have a child enrolling at Lafayette College in a month. I met with a young editor yesterday after my day job at Stitch Fix and absorbed her energy and hopefully helped her on her journey.
The decorations and the Braille are ready for tomorrow’s Disability Pride Lehigh Valley event.
And I manged to NOT put my underwear on backwards as I did on Wednesday.
Sometimes the little wins mean a lot.
In general my blood pressure and orthostatic hypotension symptoms have improved with the increased salt in my diet. If I get a good eight hours of sleep I feel decent. I have to ask if that’s due to the salt, the rest, or my frequent missing of my calorie goals (the other night I went on an eating binge and ate 500 calories of almonds. Who does that?). It also could be my increased stress levels as I’m losing my job in seven weeks.
Seven weeks.
The first medical bills from my March hospital stay has arrived, which like everything else, makes me wonder what’s to follow. I’ve started applying for full and part-time positions–but I really want to get a part-time position in something that will give me knowledge toward building my own business or to string together writing and editing clients.
But I have no savings to pull this off.
*I have a Substack and an underpromoted, underutilized Patreon if anyone wants to support Parisian Phoenix Publishing in those ways.
(And reviewing my own creator dashboard, I set up Patreon a year ago and didn’t do anything with it. Put that on the list, in addition to updating the web site in general.)
My recent experiences as a Stitch Fix client
I have waited more than a decade to launch into my client experience with Stitch Fix. If you’ve read any of my novels, you can probably imagine why. (More about my novels here.)
I started getting fixes around my birthday, which was in May. I had given my employee discount to a friend for a little more than a year, as I did not have the income for new clothes. If you are a regular here, you’ll know that the pandemic and my recent life and lack of discipline have led to a 30ish pound weight gain on my small frame, so that factored into my decision to postpone my fixes. Why buy new clothes if I’m not healthy and back to normal?
The Teenager told me around the Back-to-School season last year that she felt like she didn’t know her own style, because she didn’t get to buy her own clothes. So, I transferred my discount to her. And an employee discount can only be transferred every six months.
This week my fourth fix came. I can’t believe it’s four as I can only remember three, but these days I’m lucky if I can spell my own name.
So I asked for my fourth fix if my stylist could send suggestions for events related to titles launching at Parisian Phoenix Kink. Edgy, kinky, sexy. I even listed brands and ordered everything vegan leather I could find on Freestyle. Like pants. And a really amazing dress. The pants worked out, but the first dress was too small, and the second I did not order in petite so it was too long and for $250 I lost patience and wiggle room on my American Express to find “just right.” I did however find a dress, that although not vegan leather, fit the aesthetic and allowed room for my expanded-since-weight-gain bust size.
With all of this information of what I’d purchased, what I’d returned and why and so many items I had “saved for later,” the AI algorithm that Katrina Lake has bragged about in every podcast appearance I have heard should be able to show my stylist what I want. It should show me what I want.
And the same week Stitch Fix announced it was closing our Pennsylvania warehouse, Gwyneth Paltrow released an episode of her Goop podcast featuring Katrina, with whom she appears to be friends and retreat buddies, bragging about the algorithm and telling the same stories of Stitch Fix’s origins I’ve heard for three years.
Shipping times across the Stitch Fix network have increased, when the company eliminated its second shift (originally implemented for pandemic social distancing, splitting the warehouse staff in half) and asked us to convert to one of two 4-day, 10-hour cycles, the logic was that operating seven days a week (especially in our region where we can ship to anywhere in the continental US pretty much within 24-48 hours) would allow Freestyle orders to land at clients’ homes quickly.
And in my experience as client and employee, it did. My daughter was using my discount at that time and there was one incident when I ordered earrings on Friday night, coincidentally on Sunday morning around 7 a.m. on packed them, and I received them Tuesday morning.
I wrote a blog post (here). And I also made an unboxing video.
Now it often takes two weeks to receive an item. And we’re not even closed yet!
So, my fix preview comes. And I am very disappointed. I can see why the algorithm has selected certain items based on my past Fix purchases, but it’s like it has completely ignored the pile of things I have ordered from Freestyle since my last Fix.
Are you all still with me? Okay. So, the box arrives and I’m soooooo excited to see what kind of party outfit my stylist picked out. I know there’s a pink dress but everything else is a surprise. I ask The Teenager if she wants to see me open it.
She says, “Sure.”
And she starts the video. I open the material inside, and I see the “first fix” card that goes out to new clients. I am not a new client. I look at the Style Card and the name is not mine, the stylist is not mine and the fix is not mine. Now, despite the fact that I work for Stitch Fix and I fold and prepare 130+ of these fixes a day… despite the fact that this box came from our warehouse… and despite the fact that I also have performed the role of the person who prints, folds and drops the little envelope in the box…
In this moment, I am a client. It’s like all knowledge I have of of the process falls out of my head. (And it’s all on video you can watch it.)
“This is not my fix,” I say, despite the fact that I have already shown the camera a bundle with a pink dress in the middle.
I had glanced at the style card and saw that Becca, the client, had received athletic clothes and sneakers and I clearly had heels in that box.
I shoved the entire fix in the return envelope without even opening it. I was so angry and disappointed.
In my disoriented anger, I did not know that there was only a brief moment before check out that I could see the style card and note from my stylist that accompanied my fix. And I zoomed right by it as I started to realize that they were my clothes. And I recalled seeing some notes from my stylist about how the system wasn’t giving her the types of clothes I wanted so she tried to build some outfits based on what I had. But I had clicked past the note without fully reading it.
And now it’s gone.
Remember, I have waited more than a decade for these fixes. I have no clothes that fit because I gained weight during the pandemic. I am losing my job and I need clothes for interviews, business and launch parties.
I email customer support and ask for a copy of my stylecard.
At 4 a.m. the next morning, as I get dressed for work, I realize: I can peel the sticker off the box, research it and probably find my own damn style card. But we change in-house warehouse management systems so often I can’t remember which app does what I need it to do. I ask a lead– because now I realize one of the people who prints the style card is the one who screwed up my whole experience. She refreshes my memory.
I look up my package and realize my cat-loving friend Tom delivered my shoes to the picker, and that I know the name of the picker who ran around the warehouse on my behalf. The person who QC’ed my package– that’s the same job I normally do– was probably in the line next to mine. And then I see it. The person who handled my package last. It’s someone who is very good at her job and even gave me some tips once we moved to regular day shift.
This person means well, but punctuates her sentences with things like, “it’s not your fault. You second shift people weren’t trained properly.” I didn’t tell her she screwed up my box, and my animosity about the whole experience faded when I saw her name at the end of the line.
And my brain thought to itself, “it figures.”
By then, customer support had emailed me a PDF of my style card. Which I could have printed at work. But they offered to mail me a copy. So I thought, “Why not?”
I thanked the customer support person who took the time to explain to me how the warehouse works (because they always blame the warehouse, no one wants to hear that the beloved algorithm is broken). And I told her, “Yes, please mail me a copy. That would be lovely.”
I haven’t received it yet, but I do keep them. But that’s a blog entry for after my separation date.
I decide that maybe I’ll order one more fix, since I paid for the style pass so I won’t lose any money. And the preview comes… and guys… this one nails it.
It’s due to arrive at the end of the week, so here’s hoping this story has a happy ending.
Please do not expect this blog entry to tell a smooth story or to make sense. I don’t even know what will flow out of my fingers as I type this now. I did not plan anything special for this post, nor did I intend to miss nearly two weeks of writing.
After mere days of tracking my sodium and “eating normally” as the dietician suggested, my constant lightheadedness and episodes of low blood pressure significantly decreased. My physiatrist (who is also a neurologist, you may recall) saw me last Thursday afternoon for my post incident follow-up. She’s excited about my approval for the service dog, sorry that I’m losing my job, has promised to buy Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money, and she and her nurse both appreciate the way I advocate for myself and try to do as much as I can to improve my body and my health.
Speaking of which, tracking food had led me to discover that when “eating normally” I was only getting 1500-1800 mg of sodium AND drinking 100 ounces of water in the humid, hot warehouse. I can only imagine how little sodium I was eating while sticking to “heart-healthy,” “low sodium” choices. And it might explain why I really love me a bag of salty potato chips.
The physiatrist and I had a lovely conversation about B-vitamins, apparently she’s low and had to start getting B12 shots so I mentioned that I sprinkled nutritional yeast on everything. She googled it and she plans on buying a jar.
The teenager also asked me to organize her bookshelf, a calming activity that brings me much satisfaction.
In a future blog, I hope to write The Saga of the Quail, now that the birds have gone home and I can no longer get in trouble for illegally housing game birds in a residential area.
Somewhere in the last two weeks I deadlifted 120 lbs– which is three-quarters of my current body weight.
And the “tube” to the outdoor kennel the teenager built for the cats has been popular.
She even put a cat door leading from the porch to the kitchen so the cats have access 24/7. Touch of Grey, our foster with a hysterical and sometimes volatile personality, has made the back porch/mud room her new domain.
I had a mental health therapy appointment and will have a job coaching session next week. Speaking of which, we are having a Women’s Outbound meeting at work on Monday and everyone is having their break after regardless of whether we normally break at this time. I’m guessing Stitch Fix has either decided our official end dates or they will be announcing more information regarding when and how we will receive this information.
We had a massive pot luck yesterday at work for our team and another roster, and I ate so much food I didn’t eat again for 24 hours.
I had a meeting today with “medical nutrition services” at the local hospital to see if the dietician had any idea what I might be able to do to get myself on track via diet.
She recommended getting more sleep, and specifically 9 hours, which to me would mean going to bed at about 6:30 p.m.
And she applauds my effort to get off screens and read physical books before bed, but wants me to keep my bedroom dark and between 64-68 degrees. Which will mean using the air conditioner. And remembering to open the curtains for the cockatoo in the morning.
She requested that I cap my water intake at 64 ounces or so, based on the color of my urine because she’s afraid I’m flushing all the salts from my system.
She put me on a 1300 to 1500 calorie limit, and asked me to do more meal prep and meal planning as is my custom, but also to eat breakfast within an hour of waking up. Which, because I have so little wits and already have a busy routine, requires meal prepping breakfast in addition to lunch.
As for dietary guidelines, she wants to see me track my food and eat as “normal” as possible, not worrying about sugar and salt per se.
And I need to find a healthy outlet for stress.
Don’t we all.
FOOD DIARY
4:30 a.m: morning meds, 12 ounces water, half a cup of my favorite peppermint accented medium roast coffee with half and half
5:15 a.m.: about 8 ounces water with Electrolyte Powder Plus in raspberry
6:15 a.m. one serving of pretzels and 3/4 of a serving of JIF peanut butter.
8:30 a.m.: one serving Cabot cottage cheese, one golden kiwi, probably one serving “corn bake” and 20 ounces water.
12:30 p.m.: 16 ounces water, Baclofen and one slice pesto pizza
3:30 p.m.: repeat of this morning’s coffee and a Kind Breakfast Bar
4:30 p.m.: about 16 ounces of electrolyte water at the gym
6 p.m.: finally had my Hungryroot schnitzel– a thick pork chop coated with the dry batter of Hungryroot’s ancient grain pancake mix and “hot potato salad” of creamer potatoes, parsley, and balsamic vinegar. I was very very pleased with the texture of the pancake coating.
Weight: 160, Sleep: 7 restless hours, Morning blood pressure: 120/76 (it’s normally around 110/65 at first check), Equilibrium: day 8 of ears ringing, slight headache and lightheaded
Heart rate about 100 bpm while standing at station, folded 100 fixes (100+%)
Socks: T-Rex drinking coffee
Hopefully my next blog entry, I can tell you more about my TedX interview.
I woke up this morning and my blood pressure was still 110/68. I still felt dizzy. So I skipped my beta blocker for the second time, chugged a glass of electrolyte water and went to work. By the time I arrived in the breakroom before clocking in, my blood pressure was 125/88. I took my beta blocker and hoped for the best.
The person on support today did an excellent job of meeting my medical accommodations, and my neighbors in the QC lines, M. and A., kept swapping out my carts for theirs whenever they received refixes, which make it easier to limit my mobility. I ended the day at about 105% and I am grateful for the help.
FOOD:
4:30 a.m.: half a cup of peppermint coffee, 12 ounces electrolyte water and a slice of pesto pizza.
6:30 to 8:30 a.m.: 17 ounces water
8:30 a.m.: cashews and fig newtons
8:30 to 10:30 a.m.: about 12 ounces water
10:30 a.m.: two slices pizza
2:30 p.m.: about 16 ounces unsweetened Earl Grey iced tea with Torani sugar free mango syrup
4:30 p.m.: dinner based on a recipe from Hungryroot–“the actual orange burger” made from sweet potato, carrot and red pepper topped with avocado, sautéed kale and yellow and red peppers (and I probably used too much oil), BBQ tempeh, and nutritional yeast and served on a pretzel bun toasted in the oven after a brush with margarine and everything bagel seasoning. Served with cottage cheese, because honestly I’m concerned it might not have enough protein and a Dr Pepper Zero Strawberries and cream.
6:15 p.m.: KozyShack cinnamon raisin rice pudding for dessert. An impulse buy. But I still don’t like rice pudding.
Hopefully that’s all I eat today and I have some more water before bed.
I spent all day lightheaded, with it getting progressively worse all day. I altered my food today to include more sodium. I even brought my electrolyte powder to work, but no improvement. And yes– I did email my doctor. I had tried to schedule an appointment but with his current vacation schedule and his tendency to be heavily booked, I might be best served by my late August wellness visit.
When the lightheadedness threatens to become full dizziness, my heartrate is in the 110-115 beats per minute range, which scares me. But still no signs of Afib.
At work today I did 162 fixes, which was our goal when we were still on 10-hour shifts. Now it’s 164. But I spent 40 minutes at the safety team. We discussed resumes.
Speaking of Stitch Fix… my Freestyle order from last week came, or at least 75% of it came. It’s ridiculous how long it took to get here.
Now, I have to be up at 3:45 a.m. to start my ten-hour shift at 5:30 a.m. so let’s get on to the food diary…
4:15 a.m.: I made 26 ounces of Supercoffee with half and half. I put it in my thermal mug and it took me three-quarters of the day to drink half of it. Then I put ice in the other half and put it in the fridge.
8:30 a.m.: probably drank 24 ounces of water so far at work. First break was Cabot cottage cheese, sipping my coffee and enjoying a golden kiwi. The cottage cheese had 18% of my RDA in sodium.
11:30 a.m.: Wendy’s chicken sandwich, the super basic one and I asked them to remove the mayo and add ranch and pickles, but they didn’t listen and merely removed the mayo. Added my own ranch and pickles. Had some sliced packaged apples and plaintain chips. The plaintain chips have minimal sodium and some vitamins. The chicken sandwich was processed so it had to be salty, but none of it made me feel better.
1:30 p.m.: probably drank about 24 more ounces of water and drank 1/2 my mason jar of water with my electrolyte powder. I finished it after work. Also had a bag of cashews.
6 p.m.: the teenager made dinner. Caesar salad with fried chicken, red peppers and cucumbers. I had two big bowls. And a glass of unsweetened iced tea, Earl Grey.
Then I packed a meatloaf sandwich on rye with creamy miso and nutritional yeast, another kiwi and licorice bites for lunch tomorrow. I also set the coffee pot to brew more Supercoffee at 4 a.m. and added some organic cacao into the coffee grounds.
My blood pressure was great all day— I only took my regular half dose of beta blocker. My heart rate had a few episodes of elevation, and I was dizzy all day every time I walked.
It was humid and hot in the warehouse. I worked a ten hour shift and folded 174 fixes. Despite the sadness and frustration filling the warehouse, the conversations happening between colleagues keep the family spirit going. And it’s a great reminder that we’re all still a team.
But with each subsequent Stitch Fix commercial on Hulu, I fight tears.
And for the record, 174 fixes is 106%.
My food diary for the day:
4:30 a.m.: Water, coffee with half and half, Kind almond butter oatmeal bars. I didn’t have a chance to eat my pineapple jerky.
8:30 a.m.: about more 30 ounces of water, one small banana, packages apple slices, about 3/4 of a serving of peanut butter. I didn’t have a chance to eat my pistachios.
11:30 a.m.: water count is up another 20 ounces, a raspberry watermelon polar seltzer, and a packed solid salad of pesto, kale, red pepper, cucumber, pumpkin seeds, roasted chick peas, black beans, couscous, and hummus.
1:30 p.m.: about 16 more ounces water, finished the seltzer, and ate three mini molasses cookies from Archway, one serving.
4:30 p.m.: unsweetened Earl Grey iced tea with fresh lemon
5:30 p.m.: diet caffeine free Coke, 2 everything tortillas each with avocado, nutritional yeast, and Alpha plant-based Chikn nuggets dipped in blue cheese dressing.
Nan came over today so we could work on her writing stuff and she asked if we could stop for some bottled water, Excedrin and cash. We ended up at one of our favorite spots– Grocery Outlet– so I could buy some supplies for work lunches and some produce.
And they had her Excedrin, 200 caplets for $10. We also bought some mini soft iced molasses cookies from Archway and a bag of dehydrated kale with vegan cheese, and we made a video about them.
I did call my doctor today to see if I am a candidate for the medical nutrition program. But he doesn’t have any appointments before my already scheduled physical. I have to believe the extra thirty pounds plus on my frame isn’t helping my various symptoms, which range from tachycardia to orthostatic hypotension and my vitals seem out of whack.
And last week my doctor himself called me (when I have no tests or appointments that should even be on the radar) to tell me to stop taking my SSRI because with my ecg pattern there is a small risk of fatal arrhythmia. I had already started weaning myself off because I was on it for stress-induced high blood pressure and now that I have a beta blocker it seems redundant.
But now my blood pressure is high from life in general: losing my job soon, medical issues, mothering, pet parenting, business. It just keeps coming.
So Nan and I went to Grocery Outlet and I bought things I don’t even remember but I made this amazing salad for today and another for lunch tomorrow at work (with a flavored seltzer and a dr pepper zero strawberries and cream).
Kale
Pesto sauce
couscous
hummus
roasted chick peas
black beans
pumpkin seeds
red pepper
cucumber
Knowing dinner wouldn’t be until 7 p.m. I made myself a 4 p.m. snack.
Even before the month went off the rails, Gayle and I made plans to visit the fashion exhibits at two of our local Lehigh Valley art centers: the Allentown Art Museum and the Banana Factory. The teenager’s work schedule allowed her to join us, and she had been to neither spot in probably a dozen or more years.
Her father and I once held memberships at both the Lehigh Valley Zoo and the art museum– as both are great places to entertain a preschooler.
Gayle wanted to see the art museum exhibit because she had some of those clothes from the Sixties, and I wanted to see it because I love post-World War II history and I have a minor obsession of fashion in the artistic sense. If you’ve read my Fashion and Fiends novels, this makes sense.
I took sooooooo many photos and honestly– hey, Joan, take note: I’d like to go back and bring a sketch book and some implements. And if I had a camera…
Our first stop had to be the Frank Lloyd Wright library. The Teenager has always loved it, and today proved no exception. She had a magnificent time pointing out how all the details fit together and complemented each other in clean, minimal design.
I am always drawn to certain items: the Tiffany glass, the writing set, the painting of the tall man with many eyes that hangs in the stairs, the man with the pipe that makes me think of Pablo Picasso, and the woman with cigar.
But then came the fashion…
I think I might wear these.Sixties profiles, note the white leatherclassic black pleats and burgundy boots that really accentA dress with see-through pants and bold gold jewelrymen’s paisley pants that I adorehosiery from Hess’s (What color!)So simple.I love boots.How far we’ve come.colors, patterns galoreI gasped in delight when I saw thesewhat delightful patternsI can’t even. Clown shoes.First glance: Kangaroo? Then, notice the lines, the overlapping necklines, how the zipper aligns with the ties
So much to explore. Colors and patterns vibrating through the room.
And since the museum no longer charges admission, I bought a very bold umbrella at the gift shop.
Next, we headed to South Bethlehem’s Banana Factory. At their exhibit, featuring the work of local designer Barbara Kavchok. The work blew my mind, and the paintings and fashion illustrations that accompanied the dresses… well, if I wasn’t losing my job I would have inquired how to obtain one or two. The flowers. The ruffles. The lines. All just flabbergasting.
I had to stop in the bathroom, where I paused to take photos of the paint stains in the sink.
I had been trying to eat healthy all day, and all day my blood pressure was low and my body wobbly (to use the teen’s words) and hands shaky. So I got a chicken sandwich at Wendy’s.
Every day I find myself more ashamed of my weight and my food choices– and every day I make more excuses. It has to stop. It just has to change. My body can’t take the extra pounds.
I’ve been meaning to write for days now and a week as gone by with minimal use of my own words. I’ve kept up with my editing responsibilities, but the idea of sharing my thoughts with the outside world has felt positively daunting.
Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to feel.
Brief synopsis of the week:
It rained during the “Wheels around Wilson” event.
The teenager clogged the toilet and the plumber left her with this sage advice about the new low water flow toilets: when you take a massive shit… shit, flush, paper, flush.
Stitch Fix gave us the financial figures and basic terms of our severance but has not announced our separation dates. That will come July 15.
I received an email that the selection committee of November’s TedX Conference at Northampton County Community College would like to interview me regarding my application to give a presentation at the event.
Coffee in the Morning, the new short story collection by Larry Sceurman, is available but be warned… we need to adjust the photos. Gayle and I aren’t happy with the printed result.
Shuffling & Scribbling, the Teenager’s newly released tarot journal and workbook, is available through Amazon, as Ingram will not distribute the book, claiming the book is too “low content.” So this will allow Parisian Phoenix to compare the final printed results from both IngramSpark & KDP.
The computer system at work is still recovering from its stroke last week so I’ve been working overtime. Making hay while the sun shines, as a farmer would say.
The Teenager turns 19 Friday. That means only one more year before my teenager is no longer The Teenager.
