Karen W. first talked about her nonsense terrible experience of FMLA here.
Hi, everyone! It is I, the FMLA Lady*, here with some interesting updates to the state of working motherhood. When last I transmitted general thoughts in this regard to you via the Toast and electrons, things were pretty dire. My employer, [redacted], had screwed me out of a month and half of sick leave due to an FMLA
The idea that someone knows whether or not I have cancer but is keeping it from me is ridiculous, but here it is, actually happening. “Your results are in. The doctor is out until Monday. Only the doctor can relay your results. I’m sorry, ma’am. Have a nice weekend.” I can’t even bring myself to do a Lifetime movie style screaming rant at the “Have a nice weekend.” Even in a Lifetime movie, it’s hard…
On the first day of our IVF cycle, Alice Munro won the Nobel Prize. I was up early for a routine blood test and ultrasound appointment and found out as soon as the news broke. On my way out the door I saw one of her books on the bookshelf, a best-of collection I’d bought at an airport while waiting out a delay. At the time, I’d found the thickness of the collection comforting, reassuring.
Previously: The Hunger of the Caterpillar and The Giving Tree. A mother bird sat on her egg. The egg jumped. "Oh, oh!" said the mother bird. "My baby will be here. He will want to eat. I must get something for my baby bird to eat," she said. "I will be back!" So away she went. The egg jumped. It jumped and jumped and jumped. Out came the baby bird. "Where is my…
n late 2008 I thought Zac Efron had a weird plastic mannequin face and my mother was diagnosed with Stage IV brain cancer. Three months later, I still thought Zac Efron had a weird plastic mannequin face and my mother was dead. This isn't the cancer essay or the dead parent essay; for those, may I direct you to the rest of the internet and also to a considerable part of contemporary literature? Fuck cancer,…
