This bit now will be bad, readers discretion needed. This bit will cover nasty bits of being a woman doing mans job, a load of bodily functions and/ or actual dysfunction. It will be all sorts of yikes. So you know. Or, in case you decide to continue reading – you certainly will know 🙂

In case you are new here or just normal person minding own business I start from the fact that I do work a few different jobs. Sort of. I run businesses but every now and then I have to do actual fieldwork myself. For instance now due to the orcs’ conducted war in Ukraine I have lost 90% of my income and hence I have no means to keep the staff on payroll. So I let them go quite some time ago. That again turns into me being the actual worker because nobody is much interested or able to come for two or three days off from their new post to help me out. You know, common sense. My work is heavy physical work that is outside, by the sea usually, open in fierce weather, devastating temperatures. I usually have all my nordic gear on, but the winds in winter are so strong it feels like someone is cutting your face with hundreds of razorblades. I am thinking of smearing my face with sealfat because I suspect that’s what inuits do. Though no proof. I might try geese fat first for a test if that will keep my face not frozen. The situation is so harsh I am ready to sign even blank paper to get away from there but I can’t. They pay is good, and in fact, the pay is almost the only income I have now, mind you, it’s just 10% of what it used to be. So I have to keep going. Blody orcs. And mind you, adding to the constant conflict around me and within me I am the only non-russian in this field, and I am the only woman. I fight inside me every fucking day to keep on neutral face with these russians. I know part of them are supporters of the ol’ fart called poo in a tin. Luckily they know I am “guilty” of deporting a few comrades of theirs. So they keep shut now when I am around. But the tension is exhausting. Especially when they have promised to rape me many a times within this 25 years of working together in the same field.

So. Outside, freezing cold, from 8 in the mo to 17. Straight. On feet, outside, no place to hide, no place to get warmed up. I dream of the oilrig job – must be norwegian tho – maybe one day when I grow up. There at least they get paid better and have food and housing taken care of. I do have 15 minutes breaks twice during the day when the machinery operators go for smoke, and one 30 minutes break called lunch. I say called lunch because within 30 minutes I am not able to go for lunch. It takes me 10 minutes to get to my car, another 10 to get to labourers cantene, and you already see I am late :). I can not leave. I stay outside, dig out my pie or a half frozen banana as a lunch and avoid drinking at all costs. I avoid it because there is no toilet near. One toilet is 1 kilometre away, hence I can get there within 15 minutes but I am not able to be back on time. So no drinking anything at work for the last 25 years or so.

Yesterday I had to go to work. Alpaca tights, thermo underwear, skipants, thermo socks, woollen socks, metal nose boots, bra, thermo blouse, t-shirt, wool pullover, feather vest, silk scarf, wool scarf, Helly Hansen feather jacket for severe weather, hi-vis jacket that is blinding yellow with reflecting stripes. Hat, gloves. Tools into pockets – I have sharp spear, permanent pen, knife. Then paperwork, handful of usual pens in case one of them decides not to work in freezing cold. Tissue paper for nose. If I actually feel the snot running 🙂 ! Because it can freeze in an instant…. you might just brake off the icicle 🙂 So I am set. I can barely move but better to have problem being a tad too warm or even hot than freeze to death within few hours. Been that, done that, thats how I say this. I kid you not! Few years back I ended up in surgery for being too long in freezing conditions. Not a pretty sight but lucky to be alive, it was close call!

So we start work. Boring. Not that cold luckily! I feel warm and can even open up zipper under my chin. Working outside in north the vital bit is shoes. My mom already said that every disasterous illness creeps into you through your feet. That’s how people died in Gulag. What she meant is even tiny cold turns into horrible fever if you get your feet cold, physically, not metaphorically. Feet must be kept warm. My feet are good today because it’s only -4C. For my american friends that’s about 24F. I used to work in -25C, which is -13F. Have vivid memories of surviving this. Horror, supreme horror. It was so bad I ended up in hospidal for my guts to be cleaned because I managed to get severe inflammation of my ovaries and tubes and it all turned into 2 kilos of puzz and it exploded in my abdominal cavity, and I lost consiousness and switched off totally. I liked it “there” tho. It was warm and subtle light, I heard someone calling me. There is a tunnel, I can confirm, but I did not see the light in the end of the tunnel, more like the light, soft light was all around me. I remember it well. Very pretty and comfy, no pain! The incredible excrutiating pain I felt right before just disappeared! That pain was when the tubes exploded. It was beyond the level of pain a human can withstand so the brain jumped into action. I read later that this is survival mode that the brain swithces on to in order to save you. You faint of pain in order to survive. Coma is the same kind of survival mode of body. Fascinating. When I woke up the medics were here, three nicest men I have ever seen. I was shaking on the floor uncontrollably, I could not stop my legs. Could barely speak. They asked me some questions they needed so they can choose the right action – one they asked if I am on some drugs, probably because I was shaking on floor so mad they had to sit on my hand to keep it still for injection. Morphin it is! That was incredible! Morphine started to work literally within seconds! No pain!!! I was so amazed I said no more need to go to hospidal, let’s all go to dance! I mean, these guys were like from the firefighters calendar. We had good laugh. I really did not want to go to hospidal, but let me tell you, I am glad I went because the abruption in abdominal cavity would have killed me within a day. So they took my tootbrush, some pajamas, put them into some bag, wallet, phone, charger and carried me out to their fancy red and white van. Thanks to morphine I felt nothing but joy. And sadness once they gave me over to hospidal where the staff was only russian pissed off chicks moaning on me being brought to their station. I always wonder why they think I don’t speak or understand russian if I am local. They can see from my name that I am local. And I am not teenager or 20 years old who today maybe don’t speak russian. Anyways, I was put to waiting room which is like a hall with 7 or 8 beds that are separated with the white bedsheet kinda things. Like curtains. I got to bed with someone helping me. It started to be weird numb feeling in my legs. Climbed to bed, someone took blood, then waguely remember one guy came took me to MRT pushing me in wheelchair just in case. I would not been able nor permitted to walk. They suspected something, and were all surprised I was not drugaddict. With me in the waiting hall behind the curtains was one teenager and behind another was homeless guy. God damn how stincky he was. And covered with maggots. Horror. 

More later,

the gross bits about bodily functions did not fit even 🙂 so I will do one more soon!

Gotta go fill up car and feed the cats at cottage.

XOXOX