So today is my last day of sick leave. Tomorrow I return to the hustle and the bustle of work life. While a part of me is excited to get back into the swing of things and into my old routine again, part of me is really worried about it because I’m afraid work is going to make me sick again. I’ve been texting with Boyfriend today and he could tell I was feeling less than impressed with life so he did what he always does when he suspects that (or when I text him stating things like “today I am depressed and you have to make me feel better”). He started sending me pictures of puppies wearing sweaters. My responses were pretty lackluster. First he sent a picture of a corgi in a red hoodie, to which I responded “cute.” Another one went by without me even clicking on it to see what the caption was. That is not like me!
So Boyfriend asked me what is up. Clearly something is wrong when I ignore puppy pictures. I told him my worries about returning to work. When I left work for two months I envisioned this paradise at the end of that two months where I was feeling much better because I spent two months working on making myself better, and this two-month-in-the-future Lisa was getting shot up with drugs for that disease that she was finally diagnosed with and all was fine and dandy and there were rainbows and butterflies and unicorns. La di da. In reality I sat around watching television for two months because I didn’t feel healthy enough to actively work on making myself better aside from some smoothies and a few stretches. And the biggest disappointment of all is that I am going back to work feeling even more confused about what is wrong with me than when I left. I went off on a journey to find myself and all I found were more questions and a few pieces of chocolate that I forgot I had hidden in a bag under my bed (score!).
Boyfriend is always very optimistic when it comes to me and my health, which makes a huge difference because while I am pretty easy going about it most days, I of course have days where it weighs me down and stresses me out. So we started talking about it to try to make me feel less stressed.
Boyfriend: You are going to be okay. If you get sick again I’ll quit my job and come over and cuddle you all day and make you smoothies.
Me: You can’t quit your job. You need your job!
Boyfriend: Fine! I’ll go off on Sick Girlfriend Leave.
Me: That’s not a thing, dear.
Boyfriend: I’LL MAKE IT A THING! I’m a god damned pioneer! I’m like Lewis AND Clark! Lark!
Me: I hope you know I’m going to blog this.
Boyfriend: I’m glad I didn’t say Clewis.
Boyfriend made me laugh and now I can appreciate puppy pictures again but there is still a part of me freaking out over how little progress I have made in the last two months. Sure, my muscles work a lot better now and I can walk without dying from pain, but I really just wanted to know why my muscles didn’t work to begin with and why walking was so painful. I wanted to be able to come back to work and wear a name badge that says “Hello my name is Lisa and I have (insert disease name here).” Instead I will return and be greeted by a bunch of people, lovely amazing people I will add, and if those people ask me why I was on sick leave, my response will be “ohhh just things and stuff.” Or worse I will panic and lie. “Nose job, can’t you tell?” I will probably just end up pointing to something in the distance and slinking off into a dark corner or behind a shelf when they turn to see what I’m pointing at. I will have to work diligently to sharpen and hone my ninja skills all week to avoid awkward conversations about my sick leave.
Or I can pretend I don’t speak anglais.
All of those options sound easier than trying to explain what is wrong with me.
UPDATE: I feel the need to update this post because exactly five minutes after I post about how unhappy and stressed out I am today the universe coughed up a mail man on my door step with a box of five hilarious new reads for me. I like you sometimes, Universe!