Alien Freak Gas Mask

Hey kids! Since you did as requested and asked about the gas mask, I am obliged to reply. As most of you know, my lungs are just not up to par. Many of you also know that I am an archaeologist, at least for now, until I can find something more rewarding to do. At any rate, one of the less-fun things that we archaeologists get to do is chase around large earth-moving equipment to monitor them in case they start digging up and destroying cultural materials. Bleah. Said earth-moving equipment runs on diesel, and they put out a staggering amount of fumes. Not to mention lots of dust. As you may imagine, it is just not a good thing for me to be doing (or anyone else who wants to stay healthy, for that matter). Up 'til now, I simply told employers that I was unable to monitor. I had tried it a few times just to see, but it made my lungs hurt for three full days afterward, which I took as a subtle sign that I should avoid the whole deal.

Well! I have been rather direly in need of money, and the company with whom I've been working for most of the past 7 months was badly in need of help with monitoring. We discussed the possiblilities, and decided to try sending me out into the field with a high-quality respirator to fend of the menacing diesel and dust clouds. Which they paid for, thankfully. Now, I'm all about protecting my lungs and my health, but I have to admit that I was seriously considering telling them no, that I couldn't do it--because I just couldn't bear the thought of going out in public looking like a freak from World War I. I did some hard thinking about this. Honestly, I was pretty surprised at the intensity of my emotions about it. I was almost in tears thinking of having to go out amongst all those swaggering construction guys wearing my sissy invalid getup. It took me a full day to even work up the nerve to call the safety supply company.

After much pondering, I realized that what was going on in my head was something I'd encountered before when I've had to do home IV therapy for several weeks at a time. I always ended up wearing long-sleeved shirts (even in summer) or covering up the IV site with a sweat band or something. I simply am quite embarrassed to LOOK like I have a medical condition. That's the one thing that I think I am thankful for with my goofed-up cilia: most of the time, I look just like everybody else and you would never know. Now, when you see me wandering around a construction site with my giant face mask with its two purple cylinders sticking way out to the side like some freakish alien reptile from another planet, yeah, I look different! Top that off with a hard hat and an orange safety vest and I'm ready for a night on the town. Yeeha!

In all seriousness, it was a lot for me to overcome. I wrestled with it for a full week. Finally, my desperate need to pay ALL of my rent forced me to swallow my pride and put the thing on out in the field. It was a humbling experience, and I still grimace when I think about it, but it allows me to do my work. Those filters really work--I couldn't even smell the diesel at all when I was wearing it. Hooray for alien freak gas masks!