Member-only story
Why I Write
Because it gives me purpose and a voice
Hello Dear Reader,
My name is Terry L. Cooper.
August 2018 was the last time I worked. I had to medically retire at the ripe old age of 55. My body just said, “Enough” one day and that was that. In the 2 1/2 years since I have struggled. I’ve struggled with depression, self-esteem, you name it. My lifelong identity had been wrapped up in who I was a functioning member of society.
If I could no longer work and do volunteer work, then who was I?
A little over a year ago, my mind and emotions decided to tank right along with my body. I no longer had a sense of purpose. I had been working in the health care field as a med tech. Anything and everything from sticking your finger to check your sugar to placing drops of morphine on your tongue to ease your pain as you lie dying in your bed. I worked at that time at an assisted living facility, specifically in the locked-down dementia unit.
Throwing the scrubs on every day gave me a sense of purpose. I had a reason to get out of bed every day. There were people who needed me and if I didn’t show up, literally, there would be a break in the chain of care. We med techs were a scarce bunch. More was needed than there were available. I took great pride in the work that I did and the care I…
