Friday, January 24, 2014

Thoughts on seven months of illness.

Today, it's seven months and two days since the Town Car I was a passenger in crashed headlong into a concrete wall at 70 mph on the Grand Central Parkway. I'm going to the cardiologist this morning to see if the heart issues that arose from this concussion have abated.

It's been months since I've felt the affects of pericarditis. Nonetheless I have been on medication to knock it out of my system since mid-September. I'm not a big fan of the steroids I'm on. They make me ravenously hungry and lead to bloating and weight gain. My body has not transformed into that of a Greek god, or even that of A-Rod.

That said, I guess you could safely say, I've been traveling a long road to recovery.

My accident, and my convalescence has given me pause; it's helped me gain some distance from the everyday crap of work.

I'm moderating my passions, attempting to pull back where I can, attempting to put myself and my needs (and health) first. Sometimes it takes a cataclysm to learn this.

I'm also smarter, I think, about who my work friends are. Who's genuine and who just wants me back to squeeze more from me. It hurts me, I'll admit, that after 14 years of Interpublic agencies, I got no get well anything from either the senior management of my agency, or anyone at the holding company. It reminds me, as if I really needed reminding, that they are really not mensches, and selfish at that.

If you're young in the business or if you're old, never forget this. You work for you. If you expect things like loyalty and thanks in return for your brains and passion, you're setting yourself up for disappointment.

When disappointment is all you have, find a way to do something about it.

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