Overtime: Overextending at What Cost?
Flash Creative Nonfiction
We can ignore the elephant in the room — blink quickly away from its direction, but we know it’s there. Rent hikes, soaring gas prices, a twenty percent increase in your favorite foods, and more.
I have worked more hours of overtime this year than I ever have before, and my body . . . well, my body has had enough? I place the question mark because I am too stubborn to realize it on most days, but then other days, I’m snapped back to this reality.
The dog is getting older. She requires different things. The vet’s office receptionists take and take — hold out their hands and wait for my arm and leg and lungs. Every month, there’s something new. I have nothing else to give them other than my breath. It’s the only thing that remains.
I won’t complain.
I won’t complain.
We can ignore the elephant in the room — blink quickly away from its direction, but we know it’s there.
I keep telling myself I’ll just pick up more hours at work; overtime to the rescue! And then my body rejects the air around me. My sinuses swell. My throat becomes inflamed. My joints ache. I cough. I hack. Every step hurts, but I keep walking.
Push through.
Push through.
I have been telling myself to push through for so long, it’s finally caught up with me. Am I too old for this . . . this working more than I can to take care of all these needs?
Every month, there’s something new. I have nothing else to give them other than my breath. It’s the only thing that remains.
But a roof over my head is nice. Sustenance to suit my appetite makes me happy. Preventative medications and proper healthcare for myself and my dog are top priorities.
At what cost, though?
At what cost?
©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt
