I had been given Monday following the surgery off. The next day, Panda had to return to work and I was meant to. I did not. I had not been able to sleep the night before, I was still in agony with my legs but more than that - I couldn't face the idea of going into the workplace. Besides that I just couldn't stop crying.
I had a panic attack of sorts - stressed that I would break down in tears if someone asked how I was or even breaking down for no reason at all. I was petrified that - not being in the right state of mind - I might say something inappropriate to a customer that could affect my job, especially if a customer got aggressive or angry about something that in the end.. doesn't matter.
I managed to call work to let them know I wouldn't be in - hoping I wouldn't get any of the bitchy ones. Hoping worked - I got the 'mother hen' of the work leaders. She'd dealt with me before when i had an adverse reaction at work to some fertility medication, although she didn't know or pry for the root cause.
Managing to drag myself to the doctor's for a medical certificate was an experience. The opposing wall to where the waiting room is has an opaque tint to try to block out the intense sun. It doesn't really work, so no one gave me side eye when I was sitting there with sunnies on.
As usual, I couldn't see my usual doctor because you have to pre-plan and book your sickness weeks in advance apparently which is a bit messed up to me. So I went to see a doctor I hadn't used before but Panda had. He'd told me this doctor was good and actually listened to him. The last doctor we had there that really gave a crap left a few months ago so I was sold.
And he was good, he listened, he gave me time which is normally harder to get out of a doctor than blood from a stone and when some nurse barged in he politely excused himself to deal with that as well as keeping them out of the room and came back apologising even though it wasn't his fault people don't know how to knock. He was really kind to me.
I told him what I wrote here, that I didn't think I could cope with work and I was in so much emotional and physical pain. He told me to take the week off work, and to let him know if that wasn't enough and also offered me pain killers for my legs.
Afterwards I sat in my car for a little bit while I sorted myself out then I told myself I needed to do this right so I headed to work. I was booked in for a flu shot anyway, so instead of cancelling it I turned up and got that. Last year we had a total rude cow doing the jabs but this time we had this lovely lady who asked how my day was going and I had to be that one person saying "lady, don't even ask" while holding back tears.
After the waiting period and a lollipop I gathered up what was left of my legs and plodded up to my floor where I managed to avoid eye contact or discussions with everybody and tapped the supervisor I'd spoken with on the phone on the shoulder. She took one look at me and said 'let's get a meeting room.'
She managed to find the closest thing to a private room - after all the renovations were done recently some asshole thought it was a great idea to make everything open plan and the meeting rooms all glass. Which is probably fine but really stupid when every Tom, Dick and Harry coming out of the john gawk at what you're doing.
Me, I stand in the kitchen staring at people in these rooms while drinking tea. You designed the awkward, and believe me, I can provide the rest.
Anyway we're standing there (because I can't sit down) and it just bursts out of me that I had a miscarriage and she is just right there with a hug as I dissolve into a bunch of tears.
She did cross a line in the 'what not to say' column but obviously she meant it in a good way and I can appreciate that.
She told me about her own daughter miscarrying, and how she was so sorry this happened to my husband as I because she thought we were so lovely. I sort of ignored the chain of command because strictly speaking she wasn't my direct supervisor but I have the same emotional connection to my current/temporary team leader that I do with the last car park I stopped in. It's fine, and does the job but at the end of the day I leave it.
But Shell stepped up, took my medical certificates said she'd put the leave in for me and no one else would know apart from her and the department head. She confided that when I spoke to her on the phone that morning, she had a feeling something serious had happened and had been toying with the idea of calling me back. I don't doubt this.
I left via the back stairs - which were claustrophobic, smelled like smoker's butts (both kinds) and hurt my legs to use but had the added benefit of ensuring I would likely see no one on my way down, unlike the elevator (which usually smells like returning smokers) which was across the floor and filled with perilous sand traps like concerned co-workers spying my blotchy, tear stained face.
Despite all that, I felt a bit better. A bit of weight was lifted off my chest. Plus, Shell had given me an information pack about an employee assistance program that offered counselling. Later, I wondered why the hospital hadn't mentioned anything like that (counselling, not employment.)
I had a panic attack of sorts - stressed that I would break down in tears if someone asked how I was or even breaking down for no reason at all. I was petrified that - not being in the right state of mind - I might say something inappropriate to a customer that could affect my job, especially if a customer got aggressive or angry about something that in the end.. doesn't matter.
I managed to call work to let them know I wouldn't be in - hoping I wouldn't get any of the bitchy ones. Hoping worked - I got the 'mother hen' of the work leaders. She'd dealt with me before when i had an adverse reaction at work to some fertility medication, although she didn't know or pry for the root cause.
Managing to drag myself to the doctor's for a medical certificate was an experience. The opposing wall to where the waiting room is has an opaque tint to try to block out the intense sun. It doesn't really work, so no one gave me side eye when I was sitting there with sunnies on.
As usual, I couldn't see my usual doctor because you have to pre-plan and book your sickness weeks in advance apparently which is a bit messed up to me. So I went to see a doctor I hadn't used before but Panda had. He'd told me this doctor was good and actually listened to him. The last doctor we had there that really gave a crap left a few months ago so I was sold.
And he was good, he listened, he gave me time which is normally harder to get out of a doctor than blood from a stone and when some nurse barged in he politely excused himself to deal with that as well as keeping them out of the room and came back apologising even though it wasn't his fault people don't know how to knock. He was really kind to me.
I told him what I wrote here, that I didn't think I could cope with work and I was in so much emotional and physical pain. He told me to take the week off work, and to let him know if that wasn't enough and also offered me pain killers for my legs.
Afterwards I sat in my car for a little bit while I sorted myself out then I told myself I needed to do this right so I headed to work. I was booked in for a flu shot anyway, so instead of cancelling it I turned up and got that. Last year we had a total rude cow doing the jabs but this time we had this lovely lady who asked how my day was going and I had to be that one person saying "lady, don't even ask" while holding back tears.
After the waiting period and a lollipop I gathered up what was left of my legs and plodded up to my floor where I managed to avoid eye contact or discussions with everybody and tapped the supervisor I'd spoken with on the phone on the shoulder. She took one look at me and said 'let's get a meeting room.'
She managed to find the closest thing to a private room - after all the renovations were done recently some asshole thought it was a great idea to make everything open plan and the meeting rooms all glass. Which is probably fine but really stupid when every Tom, Dick and Harry coming out of the john gawk at what you're doing.
Me, I stand in the kitchen staring at people in these rooms while drinking tea. You designed the awkward, and believe me, I can provide the rest.
Anyway we're standing there (because I can't sit down) and it just bursts out of me that I had a miscarriage and she is just right there with a hug as I dissolve into a bunch of tears.
She did cross a line in the 'what not to say' column but obviously she meant it in a good way and I can appreciate that.
She told me about her own daughter miscarrying, and how she was so sorry this happened to my husband as I because she thought we were so lovely. I sort of ignored the chain of command because strictly speaking she wasn't my direct supervisor but I have the same emotional connection to my current/temporary team leader that I do with the last car park I stopped in. It's fine, and does the job but at the end of the day I leave it.
But Shell stepped up, took my medical certificates said she'd put the leave in for me and no one else would know apart from her and the department head. She confided that when I spoke to her on the phone that morning, she had a feeling something serious had happened and had been toying with the idea of calling me back. I don't doubt this.
I left via the back stairs - which were claustrophobic, smelled like smoker's butts (both kinds) and hurt my legs to use but had the added benefit of ensuring I would likely see no one on my way down, unlike the elevator (which usually smells like returning smokers) which was across the floor and filled with perilous sand traps like concerned co-workers spying my blotchy, tear stained face.
Despite all that, I felt a bit better. A bit of weight was lifted off my chest. Plus, Shell had given me an information pack about an employee assistance program that offered counselling. Later, I wondered why the hospital hadn't mentioned anything like that (counselling, not employment.)
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