So I did a thing. After a lot of anxiety-filled back and forth conversations and considerations, I decided to go back to work. It was not even on my radar to go back anytime soon, as I wanted to be there for the kids in case they had to be quarantined for a few days from school at literally any given time. But then a friend messaged me out of the blue and told me a position was opened at the hospital I used to work at before I got sick. It was just a weekend/as needed position, so I would still be able to pick the kids up from school and take them to their activities. It seemed to be a perfect fit for our family’s schedule, so I was interested. And then the Covid delta variant went nuts around here, beginning to flood hospitals again, and I got scared. I asked my oncologist (three times) if she felt like it was safe to return to work, and she said though I was slightly above the general population’s at risk level, I should be okay as long as I wore the proper PPE. She told me as soon as a booster is ready, get it right away. Her thumbs up calmed me down.
Still, I felt apprehensive, and I couldn’t figure out why. Was it just because of the Covid risk, or was it because I was nervous to get myself out there again? I’ve been out of the game for a while, 3 years to be exact. After chemo, I gave myself some time to get stronger and get all of our lives back on track. I then attempted to go back to work, thinking this was my big chance to get back into it, and then Covid happened and shut my chances down. Between my oncologist and my family, there was no way I was going to work during an active pandemic, at least not until I was vaccinated. My big return lasted a measly month. It was very deflating, but I understood that it just wasn’t my time.
When I told one of my friends that an opportunity came up to return to work again, her response was exactly what I needed to hear. She said that this was a big step in my recovery, something f’ing cancer took away from me for way too long. And she was right. I have focused on just about everything else to mend that was affected when I got sick, mostly with kids, home life, and my physical health, and this was the last part. So even if I was rusty, it would be good for me to do this.
But holy shit, what a change this would be. I would have to wash and fix my hair, wear non-sweats (I mean, scrubs aren’t that far off, so I’d be okay), talk to adults, use a computer, use my brain. If I will be wearing a mask all day, does this mean I have to make my upper face look nice? Do I have to decorate my face hairs, like draw in some eyebrows (because I naturally have none) or put on mascara? I think the mascara I have is going on 5 years old…sounds like a well-paved path towards pink eye. And then there’s mom guilt. I’ve watched nearly all of their weekend games, and I might miss one here or there. I’m the parent that records every time my kids touch the ball, so it will be so strange not to be there. But other than missing their games, I’m so all about missing everything else…the whining, the fighting, the mess, the constant asking to be fed and entertained. Yeah, I fixed that mom guilt pretty quickly right there. I’m ready.
For my first day back, I stopped into work briefly to get my computer set up for virtual training. I was beyond thrilled to see my friends again. I’ve never started a new job and got such a warm greeting. When I spent my first month in the hospital getting chemo, my co-workers had sent me a giant poster-sized picture of them sitting in the therapy gym, and I kept it above my hospital bed. So they saw me at my worst, so to speak. Coming back to a place where I feel known and welcomed definitely makes the transition easier.
You know what doesn’t make the transition easier…getting trained on the new documentation system via zoom. I didn’t think it would be that difficult, since I’ve used an earlier version of this system at a different hospital 10 years ago. I remembered back then having to sit through a training to learn this system, and I picked it up pretty quickly, so I figured things would seem at least a bit familiar. I also remembered how my colleagues who were ten or more years older than me struggled with it, and it took them much longer to adjust. I chuckled to myself right before this training started, thinking, huh, wouldn’t it be funny if I was now one of those older therapists that struggle with it? Well shit, I sure am that old therapist! What a giant fucking shit show this training was. From the start I had issues with my network and my computer. I had the zoom class going in the background while IT was on the phone with me trying to get my computer to cooperate. I muted my zoom and the IT person and started yelling at Jamie to get his ass upstairs to fix the damn computer. It was a mess, and I was literally just 45 minutes into the session. I was so wrapped up in all the technical difficulties that I couldn’t even comprehend the actual contents of the training. I couldn’t believe it, I was officially one of the old therapists that struggle with technological advances. You know, had I spent more time in college actually learning how to use a computer rather than using the computer mainly to play Spider Solitaire, maybe I wouldn’t be in this position.
When the kids got home from school, I was at probably the most important part of the training and only had less than an hour left. So of course that cued the kids to be super loud, run around the house, be very foot stompy to let me know they were home without “asking” me anything. Reese couldn’t take it though and started coming by me to peek at the screen and listen in on the training. She then proceeded to write me notes to ask if she could play outside and have a certain snack, which I almost gave to her until I turned my camera off to check the ingredients, only to see it had tree nuts in it. Yeah, add a little anaphylaxis to my day, that would be great. The kids don’t bother Jamie with interruptions and notes asking to do shit when he’s on a call, but the one time I have to do something virtually for work and they pull this shit? What BS.
By the end of the training, I had sweat stains through my shirt, my eyes were glossed over, I was swimming in paper printouts that totally go against the Newton Paperless Intervention (Jamie’s home pet project), my head was spinning, and I was actually dumber than when I started. The class went a half hour longer than I expected, so Jamie ended up having to take Evan to his swim lesson instead of me, which I immediately felt terrible about for no reason other than I’m a mom. I went downstairs to find snack wrappers and plates and cups everywhere, math homework sheets and school folders scattered on the kitchen table as if their backpacks threw up, a bunch of kids playing in my yard and a pissed off dog that was neglected all day (who later took her anger out on us by eating the kids’ masks). The employment gods were punishing me for being gone too long. And the Spider Solitaire gods were having a good laugh.
Evan saw me all frazzled and struggling to stand up straight, so naturally he asked, “So Mom, what’s for dinner?” My eyes widened and I yelled, “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?” He did an about-face and ran out the door. I was so angry and shaken up about how the day went, and I needed to do anything to get my mind off of it. I began to check the kids’ math homework, only to find my brain had broken during the training. I could not do my second grader’s word problem, I kept questioning myself, wait is he right or am I right? Again, had I spent a little less time in college playing Spider Solitaire, maybe I could do second grade math a little more confidently.
I stopped checking homework since it clearly was too hard for me. I started to clean up the kitchen and do dishes, and found myself thinking of ways to punish Jamie and the kids, as if that would make me feel better. I stopped the dishes and the evil plotting against my family, went to my bedroom, and just began sobbing on the floor. I kept thinking, “What the fuck did I just get myself into? And when the fuck did I become an old therapist that doesn’t know how to use a computer? And why am I crying instead of playing Spider Solitaire?” None of it made sense.
That night, a friend had asked me how the first couple of days of work went, and he asked if it was like riding a bike. I said, “Weeeeeeeelllll, it was more like riding a horse…on fire,” and I left it at that before I started crying again. But just to clarify, that horse had rabies and diarrhea…and both the horse and I were on fire…and we’re riding on a very dry and windy day…in hell. So it’s been great. But I wasn’t being fair to myself. I hadn’t even walked through my department or had contact with a patient yet. I hadn’t had a first real day of work yet. This feeling was all because I got into a bad fight one day with a computer and lost (I’ll get you next time). And really, the only time I feel like I’ve ever lost to a computer is when I lose in Spider Solitaire, so I’m truly my own worst enemy.
I reached out to a couple of friends, who reassured me that I would be fine at work, that a lot of people struggled initially with the documentation but eventually got the hang of it, and that plenty of people would be there to help me. After a good night’s sleep, a bunch of pep talks from Jamie and friends, and Reese and Evan telling me I did a good job on going back to work, I felt better. Sure, I’m still intimidated by all the changes that are around the corner, but I think I’ll be okay. In fact, I’ll be better than okay because I’m good at what I do (cue “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, people like me”). I’m not an old therapist, I’m a seasoned therapist. And everything’s better when it’s seasoned…like steaks…and therapists…and steaks (that’s all I got). I’m no stranger to hard work and the temporary discomfort that goes along with life transitions. So I guess there’s a fiery horse I needed to get back on and see my way through this.
The following Monday, I was scheduled to come in for my department orientation, maybe see a few patients, and get reacquainted with the lay of the land. I was up and ready to leave by the time the kids were just getting ready for school. Reese saw me in my scrubs and was nearly in tears. She said, “No, Mommy, why are you leaving? I don’t want you to go.” I told her I was scheduled for work. Evan heard the commotion and came over and hugged me and said he didn’t want me to go either. I said, “Guys, you’re not even going to be home while I’m gone, you’ll be in school. I will still pick you up from school. You won’t even remember that I was ever gone.” I did quick goodbyes and left before I had two children hanging on my ankles.
I was feeling anxious during the drive, so I turned on my murder podcast to calm my nerves. I left my car thinking, no matter how work goes today, it can’t be any worse than murder. When I walked into the department, it didn’t feel intimidating at all; it felt warm and welcoming and I was happy to be there. I got some training that actually made sense to me, with no IT hiccups and no children-based interruptions. I was able to treat a patient, and it felt really good to get back into it. I heard one of my co-workers say that it was so nice to hear my voice in the gym again. I was thrilled to find that my brain was still intact after all, and when I found myself fumbling, there were friends to quickly help.
This was definitely better than murder. In fact, it was as if I escaped from the corner of hell that the burning horse brought me to last week, crawled my way back to the light, and found a double fucking rainbow. Okay, maybe not that great, but it was certainly a breath of fresh air and a single rainbow kind of day. I walked back to the car with Lizzo in my head, and I was feeling good as hell. I felt hopeful and reassured that I could get back on my feet and move in a direction that was positive. This experience was a good reminder for me that one bad day cannot be used to define the rest of the path. I’m sure there will still be some set backs while I am getting the hang of things, but in a few months, I’ll be better trained and things will be second nature again. Until then, I have Spider Solitaire on my phone as a coping mechanism, and a calculator for those harder math homework days.
The Mundame 