Emotions Running Rampant

I always pictured the day that I would quit this job. It would be liberating. I would give my letter and my supervisor would cry. It would be passed around the administrative team with gasps of shock and tears of sadness. They would beg me to stay and offer me thousands of dollars. They would tell me that they could not function without me and offer to fly me back and forth to Austin so that I could move home and keep my job.

And then I woke up.

What really happened?

I presented my supervisor with my well-written letter of resignation. She read it over and commented on how nicely written it was. She then walked me to Human Resources. The HR lady was lunching so the letter was put on her desk (after telling her that it was there). Next step was to tell the Director of Clinical Services. Her response: "Oh crap!" which was followed by, "that's probably not what you wanted to hear is it?" I followed this with, "well it's better than 'thank God'!" After the requisite questions of "where are you going? Why are you leaving? Who are you working for?" it was time for me to figure out which patients I was seeing over the next four weeks and how I was planning to terminate. Terminate. That's a strange word to use with dying patients. Usually in hospice jobs, termination is very easy. The patients do it for you - they die! Most of my patients aren't dying anytime soon, so I had to tell them that I was leaving and go over all of the positive work that we have done. Then I have to figure out how to answer the question, "Who will my new social worker be?". Unfortunately the answer to that is "um, I don't know". We tend to be short staffed on a normal day, but now I'm leaving my dear coworker alone in our program, to fend off approximately 160 patients.

I assumed that like my predecessors before me, an e-mail or voice mail would be sent out to all of the staff with the sad news of my departure. Unfortunately that e-mail didn't go out until this past Monday, a full two weeks after I resigned. Guess they were in denial about my leaving. At that point, most already knew that I was leaving and it didn't seem like it was a really big deal. I guess I was pretty vocal about wanting to eventually return home.

As of today, I have a breakfast scheduled in my honor next Tuesday morning and a lunch in my honor next Wednesday afternoon. It's nice to be recognized. As of today, they have not even begun interviewing anyone to take my place. My colleague and I begged for extra help for the last six months (at least) and even when one of us leaves, it still does not get them working towards getting some help. Oh well, it's not my problem anymore, right?

Now back to termination. It has been hard. First of all, it's really hard to tell people that I'm leaving - it really doesn't fit easily into conversations. I've had to lead in with "I have some news to share" before the session even gets started. I've been met with anger and frustration but mostly with sadness (which is nice to hear). I'm surprised that my patients were so attached to me. But what is most surprising is my reactions. I am so sad to leave my patients. Most of my patients I have been working with for a long time, a few of them two years, so it's hard to say goodbye. I feel like I'm letting them down by leaving. I feel like I've been traveling along this road with them through chemotherapy, radiation, depression, pain, sadness and strife and I'm leaving before the very end. But I also know that I have given them so much of me that they have new strength to get through their next chapter with. Does that make sense?

I'm devastated to leave a few of my colleagues (a few!) and worry about how they will be treated in the future. At least my supervisor is taking up some of the slack by taking over some of my patients. Several other social workers have been more than willing to help out as well. Where were they over the last six months when we needed them, but I can't worry about that now.

Aside from seeing all of my patients, I have spent so much time organizing all of my stuff in my desk. I have catalogued research articles that I've been given over the years, I've made binders that contain resources that I can take with me, I have copies of all of the forms and documents that I have created and many, many books. I'm almost done and I think that my desk will take at least two large boxes to store all of my stuff. It's crazy - this was my first "real" job after grad school. This has been my home for almost three years, but I know that it is time for me to move on and spread my wings. My friends from work have all already left - I was the last of them. I was the last social worker from the previous regime. Now they are free to hire someone who will be less outspoken and irritated!

The tears have been free-flowing, which has been shocking to me because for the most part - I don't cry. To paraphrase what my supervisor said to me yesterday, "you have a very hard exterior, we didn't think you could be so soft on the inside". That's me, all ooey gooey and squishy. I thought they knew! At least everyone is taking the opportunity to tell me how great I am. Maybe if they had done more of that over the last year, I wouldn't be so adamant that it's time to leave.

So, I have seven days of work left and five more patients to terminate with. I've left the hardest for the end...

Wish me luck!