Gratuitous photo of my cat
My medical leave ends and I go back to work on Monday. That fact scares the shit out of me. And since I am full of more shit than almost anyone I know, that should be a clue to the level of anxiety I am handling here.
Besides the obvious nerves associated with catching up everything I’ve missed in the last eight weeks, I worry that I will get too tired too easily. I am still recovering, after all, from having my leg expertly hacked all to hell. But I am still certain that naps at my desk will be frowned on.
I am going to miss going to physical therapy. The first week of surgery was all about resting, moving just enough to ensure mobility. My full time job for the six weeks since then has been to concentrate on my recovering full mobility and building strength. Having my own wellness as my number one priority rocks.
I am really going to miss retail therapy, which I have really enjoyed just this week. I have channeled my inner shop-a-holic and spent more than a paycheck on many lovely things that I mostly didn’t need but really, really wanted. Gently walking my injured leg through the mall has been good exercise for me and my credit card –the card and it’s spending limit is definitely thinner. Me? Not so much.
But I now have a new suitcase and some cute new clothes to put in it to go to New York City for BlogHer 12 the first of August.
Come to think of it, what I am really complaining about is — after being off work for seven grueling weeks and one good week — going back to work for two and a half weeks, then leaving for a week for vacation in NYC.
Yeah.
Please disregard all the whining in the first part of this post. Yes, I am afraid the first week back to work will be overwhelming and exhausting, but I will just have to put “Empire State of Mind” on a continuous repeat on my iPod and get over myself.
The recovery road leads back to the office, but eventually it also takes me to Manhattan.
