It’s Gastro season. Yep, it’s an entire season…trust me, I work at a Hospital – I know.
For those of you who don’t know – I have OCD. Not the kind that people claim to have because they like to fold their underwear and arrange their books from short to tall…but the real, debilitating, potentially life ruining kind. It’s much more traumatic and life changing than the fads of “Omg, I am sooo OCD” allow you to understand…and it is a life time illness. It will wax and wane with the stressors in my life, and morph into other things every chance it gets. It’s a constant battle that I will always fight -and while I would never choose it if I had the option, I am learning to work with it. After all, I am a mostly functioning adult with a University degree, successful career and healthy marriage – so that must count for something. The fact that my compulsions center (mostly) around hygiene and germs, and I work in a Hospital, is both immensely stressful and hugely therapeutic. I continue to work here despite the ability to switch into other roles because I know it will make me stronger in the long run.
Having said that – the approach of Gastro season has me all in a flurry. This is my most dreaded season – and I hate that it corresponds with Christmas (the very best season). There is nothing in the world that can protect me from Gastro season and the pure terror/dread it instills in me – I will spend the majority of this season compulsively washing my poor hands and avoiding any and all human or other contact that may be contaminated. I know how ridiculous it all sounds, but it is very real and completely uncontrollable for me…so all I can do is buckle down and go along for the ride….and pray I come out on the other side – healthy and in one piece. Beans has already had gastro once and I managed to avoid it (I think I aged a few years in the process, though)…I’m just praying that I can make it through the rest of the season relatively unscathed and mostly sane. Many, many, MANY times I have wished I could trade OCD for something else – something less “insane” for lack of a better term, but the older I get the more I realize we all have our things – and mine isn’t any better or worse than anyone else’s. Just different.
So there you have it, the truth. Hopefully we can still be friends even though I am
constantly on the brink of shuffling around in a bathrobe wearing gloves and a mask occasionally mentally unwell and slightly quirky. Cross your fingers that I make it through this season without losing all my marbles!
How do you get through virus season? Does the idea of it fill you with dread, or do you roll with it?