My therapist: “Be kind to yourself. If all you can do is to get up, brush your teeth, get dressed, and feed yourself, that’s enough for now. Don’t push yourself too hard to recover before you’re ready.”
Me: “Wow, going to therapy the other day was the first time in four weeks that I’ve left the house, and I’m absolutely wiped out. That’s frustrating. Hey, boss, I’m definitely not able to return to work officially yet, but can I come in and do quiet paperwork for a few hours here and there just to see how it goes?”
My boss: “No. Try to work your Thursday and Friday shifts if you can, but I do expect you to work your shift on Saturday as originally scheduled, unless you can give me a doctor’s note saying exactly when you’ll be able to return to work.”
Me: “I would love nothing more than to know exactly when I’ll feel better, but that’s not how Covid works. At all. And I’ve missed an entire paycheck so far, so paying for an office visit is the last thing I want to do.”
My boss: “Rest up tonight and maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow!”
Me: “I have done literally nothing but rest for weeks. One more day isn’t going to cure me.”
The nurse at my doctor’s office: “Does your boss realize that it’s literally impossible to know when you’ll be over Covid?”
So yeah. I’m still coughing, short of breath, fatigued, have brain fog, occasionally have heart palpitations, and can’t quite shake this headache. But I guess I’m supposed to magically get over all that before Saturday. Sure, boss.
The stupid thing is, I WANT to get back to work! I’m bored at home and I’m missing all kinds of things going on at my job, and I desperately want to feel well enough to do normal things, but I’m not there yet!
I did get a doctor’s appointment for tomorrow. Not my normal GP, but someone who can write me a note and evaluate why I’m still this sick after all this time.