Thursday, March 22, 2007
BACK TO WORK AND THE RED ARSE BARON ........
So there I was, all contemplative after celebrating my one year anniversary.
A bit mopey, hibernating, thinking about 'stuff', when all of a sudden things took a bit of a turn.
Today I went to my former place of employment to discuss returning to work.
Apart from myself there were the occupational therapist, the service department manager, the occupational health and safety bloke and one of the directors.
We had a discussion regarding all the restrictions I have, the plan to slowly increase my work hours and amongst other things, what I would actually be doing there.
All this I was ready for.
What really threw me was when the director started asking me about what I want to be doing in the next 12- 18 months, where I see myself etc, even hinting at steering me towards a service advisor role, something I'd tried to steer clear of for some time due to the ridiculously long hours involved.
That I was completely unready for!
I tried to explain that at this point my focus was fairly short term and that I really couldn't give him an answer at this point.
I don't know how I feel about all that.
We'd decided that my starting day would be next Tuesday and that I will be doing 10 till 4 on Tuesdays and Thursdays until the next review.
At the end of the meeting I went downstairs to say g'day to some of my colleagues and then buggered off home.
I pulled the mail out of the mail box and noticed a letter form the Alfred Hospital.
It was from the radiology department, informing me that my day surgery is booked for the 27th / 02 / 2007.
I was a little confused as the 27th of February had obviously passed and I can't recall being poked or prodded that day.
During the phone call to radiology, I was informed that it was to be March not February.
"Operation Baboon Butt" is finally on!!!
That slightly clashed with my return to work program as that would make it next Tuesday.
Hmmmmm.
Decisions, decisions.
Go to work, or be poked and prodded and end up with an arse covered in blood?
In the end I felt it would be easier to postpone returning to work rather than trying to deal with the hospital.
So, here's to surgery number 11 and me returning to work.
'clink'
.
A bit mopey, hibernating, thinking about 'stuff', when all of a sudden things took a bit of a turn.
Today I went to my former place of employment to discuss returning to work.
Apart from myself there were the occupational therapist, the service department manager, the occupational health and safety bloke and one of the directors.
We had a discussion regarding all the restrictions I have, the plan to slowly increase my work hours and amongst other things, what I would actually be doing there.
All this I was ready for.
What really threw me was when the director started asking me about what I want to be doing in the next 12- 18 months, where I see myself etc, even hinting at steering me towards a service advisor role, something I'd tried to steer clear of for some time due to the ridiculously long hours involved.
That I was completely unready for!
I tried to explain that at this point my focus was fairly short term and that I really couldn't give him an answer at this point.
I don't know how I feel about all that.
We'd decided that my starting day would be next Tuesday and that I will be doing 10 till 4 on Tuesdays and Thursdays until the next review.
At the end of the meeting I went downstairs to say g'day to some of my colleagues and then buggered off home.
I pulled the mail out of the mail box and noticed a letter form the Alfred Hospital.
It was from the radiology department, informing me that my day surgery is booked for the 27th / 02 / 2007.
I was a little confused as the 27th of February had obviously passed and I can't recall being poked or prodded that day.
During the phone call to radiology, I was informed that it was to be March not February.
"Operation Baboon Butt" is finally on!!!
That slightly clashed with my return to work program as that would make it next Tuesday.
Hmmmmm.
Decisions, decisions.
Go to work, or be poked and prodded and end up with an arse covered in blood?
In the end I felt it would be easier to postpone returning to work rather than trying to deal with the hospital.
So, here's to surgery number 11 and me returning to work.
'clink'
.
