Steve said something last night that really made me think. I was sat on the sofa, all ready for my Sunday night “I’m a celebrity…..” fix, marking the end of an all-to-short weekend with my customary “ugh, I don’t want to go to work tomorrow” throw-away comment.
“You’re lucky you’re well enough to go to work”
And it made me think. Yes, I really am lucky enough that I am well enough to go to work. I don’t even know what not being well enough to go to work long-term feels like.
Like most of us, work is what I do for most of the week. I don’t want to say it defines me, but for 5 days a week I’m “Katie from HR”, and I love being that woman. Apart from 2 short periods for maternity leaves, I have always worked.
Steve enjoys what he does, he’s found his niche and I gather he’s very good at what he does (I’ve no idea specifically what he does, but it involves computers and technical stuff!). He enjoys talking to people who understand what he does about what he does.
And, for the moment at least, he has misplaced that part of his identity. That reason to get up and go every morning has got up and gone. 3 months ago he’d have jumped at the chance of jacking in work for a while, and he’d have spent his days happily driving his Tesla, fixing gadgets onto his motorbike, walking the dogs, watching youtube videos of people having motorbike adventures and dreaming of his own, but being off work unwell doesn’t afford you those opportunities. He isn’t well enough to do all the things you imagine doing if you have an extended period of time off work.
We’re hopeful the treatment is doing it’s thing, and that the scans in January will show the tumours are somewhat battered by all the amazing effort his body is putting in, and that he will soon be feeling well enough to pick up work again.
In the meantime, I must try and remember how lucky I am to be well enough to get to go and do work I enjoy, and not to moan about how short the weekends are.
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