Work and private life and never the twain will mix is my motto apart from drinking with teaching staff who are also really good friends. The day before H-Day, I failed.
It was just one of those mornings, where I felt it would be a disaster when today was all about handover and relaxing in the evening. The electricity in my flat decided to act up and it took one hour to boil the kettle. Thank god, I was awake really early (6am) due to nerves. And yes, a really busy day topped off with no hot water, no shower and a huge slap in the face about the enormity of what was going to happen.
My to do list just wouldn't come together. I was hyper, numb and jittery at the same time. I had put off the Mexican social security admin stuff until way too late. My manager was being all nasty with me for not being organised which is true but really with doctor's appointments, arranging payments from the UK and lest we forget - a full time job and the first week of term, I simply had no time. I had to keep on telling myself that 'people skills are not her strong point' and is she trying to help in her very special way?
Fortunately, the Finance Assistant accompanied with me to IMSS to get some booklet which I never picked up. Apparently, no one does. We waited for a relatively short time in a musty government building and also try and arrange the 'incapadacidad'. I am no stranger to inflexible bureaucracy and functional buildings so wasn't surprised that I needed some certificate immediately after the operation and a visit a week later. Impossible. I shared with the finance assistant what my treatment was. He looked more uncomfortable than me but at least I left with that all important book.
I was pretty pissed off with my manager's attitude suggesting that I ask someone to hold my hand. Bureaucracy in any situation is stressful. Facing major surgery is even more so and lets not go down the different language route. As I remember when my dad was ill, my mum was responsible for all of this. In English and in a system that they knew better than most people.
There was a glimmer of good news. BA had found my effing bag!! The next stress was the unspecified time of arrival. Was it \Mexico or was it just incompetence and ineptness I have discovered goes along with the BA brand? That was one of the reasons why I stayed at work late. Waiting for a bag. Sad, isn't it? In fact, Zoe and I sloped off for dinner. Well, a watched kettle never boils and indeed it arrived as soon as we settled down to dinner.
Somehow, I got through the day. I was more upset that I visibly looked stressed and allowed the personal to interfere with the professional (contradictory as I always believe in the 'personal is political'). People said it was fine though I am not convinced my manager had the same thoughts or a few unsympathetic comments from peer who referred to my time off as 'leave' and said he'd get back to me tomorrow if there was anything not on my delegated duties list he was unsure of. He'd be bloody lucky.
Anyway, it was a fine example of facing reality and one which was really unpleasant and frightening. Somehow, I began to create neurotic scenarios in my head coupled with the fear that tomorrow is really going to be something huge and I have no idea how it will be afterwards.
I returned home and packed. A strange calmness came over me. In fact, I was more preoccupied in putting away my newly retrieved clothes and selecting post op outfits. Maybe I had accepted the inevitable or was it more that I had found something more pressing to think about?
No comments:
Post a Comment