I haven’t written much about work. It’s an important topic but probably one that hits me the hardest.

I feel like that’s the ultimate indicator of health – whether or not I can return to work.

I get a taste of other things in my life. We have a tandem kayak that we take out once in a while – my husband does the paddling (I paddle a little here and there but I’m not able to do enough to make a difference). I pull my guitar out from time to time. I have an electric recumbent trike that allows me movement without the strain on my body. All of these can be done on days when I have the energy to be upright – even though those days are few and far between; even though I know too much of any activity will cause a setback.

But I don’t get a taste of the work I used to do. I can’t work. It’s hard to even think about the possibility of going back to work because there is no way I could make it through even half a day, let alone 8-10 hours.

I miss it. I didn’t love every job but I enjoyed my career as a whole and it was so hard to take a step back from it 12 years ago. I initially believed I was taking a little time off to find a doctor who could fix me. 6 months – maybe a year. I fully expected to return to work.

Once I got diagnosed, I knew the return would be a little longer. When I got my picc line, I knew it would be a lot longer. Over time I started to realize the likelihood of returning to work was extremely small – and if I could work again, I could never go back to the high stress environment of construction and safety.

Thoughts like that take time to form. I didn’t wake up one day and suddently realize I couldn’t go back to work. It’s like when you let your hair grow out over several years – you don’t see it happening, it slowly just becomes part of your body and one day your hair is long. It’s a process that evolves so slowly you don’t realize it’s happening.

I now know I won’t be able to go back to work doing what I know, what I used to be good at. It is what it is and I’m not mourning that loss but I want to be useful, productive; I want to have purpose, I want to have income that I’ve earned from a job well done.

I’m so thankful that God has provided for me and my family. But I miss work. And I miss the thought of going back to work.

Maybe some day I can find a way to be useful again. It will definitely look different than it did before. Perhaps I will be able to help others heal. Or maybe I’ll open a small shop with organic groceries and clean supplements. For now, it’s fun to think about what I might be able to do.

Someday – maybe.