Scattered spring thoughts: moving on, moving up, and figuring it tf out

Spring has been on-brand with the standard stereotypes: change, renewal, and (like the recent rain and hail storms across Springfield) a certain degree of volatility. 

I left my job to join a different agency, Campaignium (similar work with new co-workers, new clients, and a new culture to learn). This has been a very good change, and I think I'm right to have trusted my instincts—but there is still a sense of vertigo when looking around and realizing you've traded something established for something new.

Something about switching jobs that many people don't have to worry about is having a gap in insurance coverage or a delay in treatment authorization for my common variable immune deficiency (CVID). 

That's where I'm at right now. The exhausting, irritating song-and-dance of waiting for some asshat insurance adjuster to shrug their bureaucratic shoulders and hit deny despite the medical certainty that I will get very sick, over and over again, without immunoglobulin replacement therapy. 

I have 30 mL of plasma left in my fridge after rationing my treatments (my infusions are supposed to be 80mL). After that, if they delay things, I'm screwed. Each week without it increases my chance of infection. Every infection increases the damage done to my lungs. And that damage increases the chance of… well, lungs aren't really a negotiable feature. 

But hey, it's spring. Everything is riotously green. The weather is playing hard to get: soaring into sultry, sunny 80s and 90s on workdays before collapsing into drab, drizzly weekends. But kayak weather is nearly, inevitably, here. 

The ease of it—of being carried with the water, self-sufficient in your own little craft, drunk by 2 p.m. on sunlight and burning muscles and the smell of mud and the laughter of other river-goers (and obviously beer, too)—makes everything calamatous settle for a while. 

It's spring. The year has turned its first quarter. My dogs are shedding like crazy (double-coated dogs were a mistake. I'm DROWNING in dog fur. No amount of vacuuming can keep up. Who lives like this?!)

It's spring, and as the year grows into itself, I'm glad to see where I am. Pushing past something comfortable to find something rewarding. Breathing in the peonies and the petrichor from my front porch. Spending time with the people who matter. Reading good books (Katabasis by R.F. Kuang) and anything by Sarah Gailey).

I'll figure the difficult things out the same way I always do. Impatiently, clumsily, imperfectly, vindictively. But I'll figure it the fuck out. 🌱