All in a day’s work

When I think back on my dad’s heart attack in 1980, I see everything happening in slow motion. My father in a flannel work shirt lying down on the sofa for a nap. My oldest brother rushing to call the local ambulance. My heart pounding with fear of the unknown.

The thing that sticks out the most to me is him shaking uncontrollably. White foam and saliva dripped down the side of his mouth. I was a young kid. I had no idea what was happening. One minute I was enjoying one of the final days of the summer. The next moment I was worried that my father might never get up from the couch. I feared he might die right in front of me.

Blood flow was cut off to my father’s heart, ripping through healthy muscle tissue. He would survive, but would have irreparable damage and would be a changed man.

Before and After Images

Prior to the heart attack, he rarely got sick or took a day off work. After the heart attack, it took everything for him to get out of bed and dress himself. He had spent much of his adult life working at a local steal mill. He pushed himself to recover, to go back to work, but he never could. Within days of the heart attack, his bosses moved on. His union reps moved on too. And after a few weeks he was on his own.

A few months after his attack, my father took me with him to visit his union shop to see what they could do to help him. He knew he wasn’t back to 100 percent, but was hopeful that he could get something less taxing until he worked his way back.

Of course, the answer was a firm “no.”

I was too young to understand much of the conversation or what was at stake, but I remember the way the guy treated my dad. He looked down the entire time. He couldn’t look at my dad in the eyes. I was brought up to treat adults with respect, but I remember the guy rubbing me the wrong way. He seemed smarmy to me. The same thing happened when my dad went and visited his old boss at the steel mill. It was like the guy didn’t want to look at my dad because he might end up like him.

Both had moved on.

My dad would eventually have to move on too. It was still huge loss for him. A part of him died that day.

Eat em’ up, Spit em’ out

I learned an important lesson from the experience. The looks of the bosses and guys in charge have stayed with me all my life. If you died tonight, your employer would advertise to fill your job within a few days. They might even take a few weeks, but they would move on. They may love you, but the end of the day, you’re a number on a spreadsheet. It taught me that you should never get too busy making a living that you forget to make a life.

There’s a meme that I see every once in a while that says much the same thing. I’ve tried to follow that advice. In the heat of the moment, I sometimes forget it. I’ve gotten my ego wrapped up in my job at various points in time, but then I’m rudely woken up and reminded that you need to keep things in perspective.

Give your best, but keep your priorities straight. Family first, job second.

How do you ensure that keep your priorities straight?

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