Do you ever feel like you’re making it up as you go along? If you do, you’re not alone. Evidence suggests that most of us do, to one degree or another, and those who seem like they aren’t are just better at hiding it. We all do our fair share of bluffing our way though life – you can even buy books on how to do it better – where we pick up a bit of lingo and slide into the conversation. It’s how we get on in life. How we fit in. It’s a bit of an art-form, this act of improvisation and ad-lib, and some of the time it works. But there can still be occasions where we genuinely feel completely out of our depths.
The 1st December marked one whole year since I made my triumphant return to the workplace. My employers (Staffordshire County Council, for the record) and colleagues (shout out to OP&PD) have been enormously supportive of me over the years, going to considerable lengths to adjust my workload and accommodate not only my frequent clinical appointments and daily dialysis treatments, but my very regular bouts of sickness. To this day that support has not wavered, and they continue to be considerate guardians in the workplace. I am more grateful for this than they might realise, due mainly to the fact that while outwardly, I appeared to make a rapid and miraculous recovery, inwardly the return to work was easily the hardest part of my recovery journey.
The first thing I noticed, and have already chronicled in these pages, was that there was (and still is) a sizable gap in my memory. When I was sick I continued to work, did things with the family, and functioned more-or-less as normal, even when I was very poorly indeed. However, I now have to rely on electronic records for confirmation that I was in fact there. And these are things I should remember; towing the caravan to Devon and back (a 500 mile round trip), or Christmas Day with the family, or my birthday. All I can really remember from that time is being sat in the same position in my living room, for days on end, unable to think about or feel anything in particular. This gap was particularly conspicuous when I started back at work. I had carried on best I could while I was sick, but much of what I had done in those dark months had also been either wiped clean, or never confined to memory at all. Consequently, when I landed back at my desk, I genuinely had no idea what to do. It felt like my first day on the job.
The second thing relates to the first, and only became apparent once I started working. It took me by surprise and a little while to work out what was going on. This wasn’t, as you may imagine, that I would forget to do things. Rather I would do everything I was supposed to do, but I would forget I had done them. I would complete tasks twice, or ask people for the same information several times. I started to make notes and write things down, so as not to forget, only to forget what I had written and when or where I wrote it. I would make diligent notes only to discover that what I was writing had already been committed to paper just days, perhaps even hours, prior. Not only was this hugely frustrating, it was also a complete bloody waste of time! Especially in the bureaucracy of Local Government where forms that are necessary but no-one reads can take hours to complete.
I’ve been over this with my doctors, and aside from saying that it’s quite normal, they’ve had little else to offer. I’ve also done some research, and there are a few studies out there that relate to cognitive ability post-transplant, but this doesn’t seem to be a problem. I can do everything I used to be able to do just as well, and in many cases significantly better, as my mind-fog has lifted. There’s precious little out there specifically relating to memory loss, so the only card I’m left holding is this PTSD thing, which does seem to be more manageable than it was before. Like anything, it improves with practice. I can honestly say that it is only in the last six weeks or so that I have started to feel comfortable at work. It’s taken a whole year, and it’s been so much harder than the physical stuff. For that, all I had to do was sit back and let mother-nature do her thing.
The last two years have been a time of change for us all, and no-one seem to have had the faintest idea what is going on. For all intents and purposes, it has been the blind leading the blind. Many people have been forced to down tools and take a break from the workplace, and this may have provided me with some cover in my hyper efficient, but genuinely clueless state. I have been assured by colleagues that no-one has noticed, but I’m sure they have. I can well understand why some people never go back to work after illness, it has been the hardest part of recovery for me by some considerable margin. People always say that we shouldn’t live for work, but functioning effectively and doing my best for the communities I serve is an important part of who I am. This, together with everything else that we do is called life, which is a bit like flying a helicopter. And I have no idea how to fly a helicopter.
My return to work was a hell of a shock, so much so that at one point I even considered quitting, such was my frustration. But the longer I stuck at it, the more comfortable I felt, and as I looked around I started to wonder if anyone else really knew what they were doing, and I was simply trying too hard to fit in?
Have a very Merry Christmas dear readers, stay safe, and here’s to a healthy and happy 2022.
Laters…
#R24TRC 