Yesterday I went to work. For those of us lucky enough to have a job these days, this would be a normal activity, largely tolerated, often enjoyed, several hours in meetings, in front of a computer, answering emails, phone calls, writing reports, analysing data, preparing advice, and generally doing out best to help make the world a better place. However, for me, currently signed off work until March, my visit to the office was not a normal trip. I was going in to say hello to colleagues and pick up a few things from my desk - not to undertake any paid labour.
The first abnormality was my transport in - we drove, well, my aunt drove. For someone whose job is to reduce single occupancy vehicle trips to reduce congestion and GHG emissions- this was very strange. I felt guilty. Old habits die hard! Once in reception, I collected my reserved wheelchair, and sat down. Immediately the familiar feeling of my workplace changed. I lost half of my height, and any sense of gravitas I once might have thought I had. The helpful man in reception was nervous of working the wheelchair, and his colleague adjusted the brakes - and then I was off. With a couple of colleagues we mastered the lift (lift controls easy to reach) although I had to reverse the wheelchair out. Then through the swing doors - and into my office.
My colleagues were warm, friendly and gathered round. Low in my wheelchair I was nervous - everyone seemed so tall - the furniture bigger, the corridors longer. I was the centre of attention - this should have felt good - but I was faintly embarrassed. People so obviously cared. This is astonishingly humbling. Of course I knew that - from the cards, and flowers and gifts sent to me in hospital - but still, I am a few weeks on from that now - and one imagines that interest diminishes. I told my stories, and we laughed - but inside I was tremulous - felt like I was slurring my words. Someone asked me about my prognosis - and I had no idea how to reply - I've been too cautious (superstitious really) even to write about that, never mind explain my uncertainties out loud.
The old adage ' no one is indispensable' is completely true - everyone is getting on just fine without me. That should have been difficult for someone as controlling and hands on as me - but somehow I am less bothered than I expected. If so, this has to be a good thing - how wonderful to be able to let go, trusting that other people will do what needs to be done, without interfering. or adding my 'personal touch'. I can only hope that this is a change for the good and not simply the painkillers addling my mind....
The first abnormality was my transport in - we drove, well, my aunt drove. For someone whose job is to reduce single occupancy vehicle trips to reduce congestion and GHG emissions- this was very strange. I felt guilty. Old habits die hard! Once in reception, I collected my reserved wheelchair, and sat down. Immediately the familiar feeling of my workplace changed. I lost half of my height, and any sense of gravitas I once might have thought I had. The helpful man in reception was nervous of working the wheelchair, and his colleague adjusted the brakes - and then I was off. With a couple of colleagues we mastered the lift (lift controls easy to reach) although I had to reverse the wheelchair out. Then through the swing doors - and into my office.
My colleagues were warm, friendly and gathered round. Low in my wheelchair I was nervous - everyone seemed so tall - the furniture bigger, the corridors longer. I was the centre of attention - this should have felt good - but I was faintly embarrassed. People so obviously cared. This is astonishingly humbling. Of course I knew that - from the cards, and flowers and gifts sent to me in hospital - but still, I am a few weeks on from that now - and one imagines that interest diminishes. I told my stories, and we laughed - but inside I was tremulous - felt like I was slurring my words. Someone asked me about my prognosis - and I had no idea how to reply - I've been too cautious (superstitious really) even to write about that, never mind explain my uncertainties out loud.
The old adage ' no one is indispensable' is completely true - everyone is getting on just fine without me. That should have been difficult for someone as controlling and hands on as me - but somehow I am less bothered than I expected. If so, this has to be a good thing - how wonderful to be able to let go, trusting that other people will do what needs to be done, without interfering. or adding my 'personal touch'. I can only hope that this is a change for the good and not simply the painkillers addling my mind....
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