Wednesday 20th May. Six months to the day. And back to work. But first, up at 7.15 because its my penultimate patient transport experience. And knowing my luck the ambulance might just come at 8. In the event, it doesn't. Sod's Law. Gives me time to tidy up before the cleaner comes. A decent breakfast and then its off to physio.
Not a physio session goes by without a new problem emerging. This time its the identification (finally!) of soft tissue damage in my right thigh. Despite having it drained twice in hospital, and it hurting like hell ever since, no medical professional seemed interested in having a look at it. Until today. The damage seems to be causing some of my knee problems. And the mad 'split' across the front? Could have, it appears, been caused by a tourniquet during one of my early operations. To stem bleeding from my lower leg. So more exercises for it, and hefty massage treatment - by the Physio and myself. This as usual, is, as the Physio says, 'uncomfortable'.
Back home I have half an hour to prepare for work. I realise too late that my school bag was wrecked in the aftermath of my accident. Problem number 1. How to carry laptop, use my crutches, and remain stylish at all times? Problem not solved. Use ugly old backpack in the meantime until eBay produces something better.
In the taxi I am nervous. But there was no need to be. Within 20 minutes of arrival it felt like I'd simply been away on holiday. Everything was the same. Kind colleagues who had worked hard in my absence to keep things going. This should have felt good - but....
I deleted over 2000 emails and the world continued to turn. I had two rapid meetings and solved a couple of problems. I remembered acronyms. I had a conversation with a colleague about a policy issue - and realised with a sinking heart that I had had an identical conversation some eight months before.
Around 5.15 I am suddenly exhausted. There's already a pile of papers on my desk for take home reading. The taxi driver on the return journey was a senior bank manager. He quit some six years ago when he realised what was going wrong with toxic loans. He didn't agree on principle. He has a nice life now. Short hours, interesting chats and enough money for essentials and golf. His partner supported his move. I like that.
Where I wonder is the Department of Knitting? I think I want a transfer. Its not that I don't like my job. Its a great job with good people. And excellent conditions. Especially in my predicament. Its just that, instead of being a mere policy wonk who had a nasty incident with a truck, I could be the woman who knitted the world.
I may only be knitting tank tops now, but I'm sure I have the ability, or at least the dedication, with my fellow knitters of course, to knit a solution to climate change, crochet an end to child poverty and invisible blanket stitch world peace...
Not a physio session goes by without a new problem emerging. This time its the identification (finally!) of soft tissue damage in my right thigh. Despite having it drained twice in hospital, and it hurting like hell ever since, no medical professional seemed interested in having a look at it. Until today. The damage seems to be causing some of my knee problems. And the mad 'split' across the front? Could have, it appears, been caused by a tourniquet during one of my early operations. To stem bleeding from my lower leg. So more exercises for it, and hefty massage treatment - by the Physio and myself. This as usual, is, as the Physio says, 'uncomfortable'.
Back home I have half an hour to prepare for work. I realise too late that my school bag was wrecked in the aftermath of my accident. Problem number 1. How to carry laptop, use my crutches, and remain stylish at all times? Problem not solved. Use ugly old backpack in the meantime until eBay produces something better.
In the taxi I am nervous. But there was no need to be. Within 20 minutes of arrival it felt like I'd simply been away on holiday. Everything was the same. Kind colleagues who had worked hard in my absence to keep things going. This should have felt good - but....
I deleted over 2000 emails and the world continued to turn. I had two rapid meetings and solved a couple of problems. I remembered acronyms. I had a conversation with a colleague about a policy issue - and realised with a sinking heart that I had had an identical conversation some eight months before.
Around 5.15 I am suddenly exhausted. There's already a pile of papers on my desk for take home reading. The taxi driver on the return journey was a senior bank manager. He quit some six years ago when he realised what was going wrong with toxic loans. He didn't agree on principle. He has a nice life now. Short hours, interesting chats and enough money for essentials and golf. His partner supported his move. I like that.
Where I wonder is the Department of Knitting? I think I want a transfer. Its not that I don't like my job. Its a great job with good people. And excellent conditions. Especially in my predicament. Its just that, instead of being a mere policy wonk who had a nasty incident with a truck, I could be the woman who knitted the world.
I may only be knitting tank tops now, but I'm sure I have the ability, or at least the dedication, with my fellow knitters of course, to knit a solution to climate change, crochet an end to child poverty and invisible blanket stitch world peace...
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