It’s Wednesday night and I’ve got my voice back. I had a theory that, when push came to shove and when I had to return to work, it would mysteriously re-appear. And it did!. It’s amazing, isn’t it, how your body just responds when it knows it has to. I went back to work yesterday, and when I woke, there it was, back as good as new. Or almost as good as new, at least 80%. Mind you, I’m still resting up hoping for a proper return of those meliflous vocal chords.
I spoke about it with a colleague today at work and she told me she’d had a problem or two in the past, but that the only thing you should do when you can’t speak is just not speak. Don’t whisper, it only makes things worse. Her advice – just shut the fuck up.
Although I’m a little tired tonight, the return to work has been good. In just two days I’ve managed to achieve a fair deal and it’s almost like I haven’t been away. And yet, of course I have, and it’s made a huge difference to have had so much time off. Quite a few people have commented on how relaxed and refreshed I appear, which I assume means I must have looked pretty awful before heading off on leave.
And so all of this has just re-inforced for me how important it is to take regular breaks. When I did the sums, recently, I realised I haven’t really had a proper holiday in quite a few years. A day here, a long weekend there, just a week every so often, just isn’t enough. You need a good break every now and then.
And yet, after taking four weeks off, I’m still owed about 7 weeks annual leave. I am owed 30 weeks long-service leave. I could take up to 45 weeks of sick leave.
Although my heart tells me it’s important to save leave up for when it’s really needed (I’m not one for taking sickies, because you could end up needing that leave if you’re diagnosed with cancer), my head tells me it shouldn’t mean you wait until you’re half-crazy and in desperate need of a break. For a Catholic, I’ve got a lot of that Protestant work ethic inside me, haven’t I?