Monday, June 16, 2003
Back at work. After 10 weeks out on medical leave. Six of those weeks hooked up to a friggin' colostomy bag. "At least," say others, including my mom and mother-in-law, "you lost weight." I chuckle thinking of the weight I lost as I walk outside to the back patio and release the gas from my colostomy bag into the evening breeze now that I am no longer able to fart.
My wife has been very supportive, driving me to my butt doctor appointments while I'm hopped up on Vicodin and Percocet and unable to drive straight. Waddling into the office from the narrow parking lot, I'm glad that the butt doctor has big comfy leather sofas. It seems to make sense, seeing as what sort of clientele may be sitting upon them.
They took out my appendix while they went in to reconnect my colon. They told me that it was for the best, that it doesn't do anything and will prevent possible future appendicitis. But I still wonder -- what if they discover, later, that it was the central fleshy component of ESP.
Today, I'm back at work. After 10 weeks of medical leave. Going through (I'm guessing) 500 to 700 E-mails that have piled up since March 28th, the last day I checked my E-mail. Lots of nice E-mails about enlarging my penis, increasing my ejaculation, and from amazing people like "HornyCarla6969." Lots of E-mails from collegues asking where I am -- asking why I'm not responding. Where am I? Why am I not in the office?
I'm back at work today. After 10 weeks of medical leave. And I'm glad that someone had the sense to grab the plants in my office and keep them alive. That someone changed my voicemail message to say I would be away until June. The same sandwiches in the cafeteria line. The same cars in the parking lot with their lights left on. The same people walking down the halls staring at their shoes.
I keep thinking of what's playing on CNN. I could be playing my computer game and knocking off a new level. I could be popping a couple of Vicodin at home and eating a Hostess Cherry Pie and sitting on the porch and having a smoke and watching the daytime people walk along the sidewalk in front of my house. Looking at the bright cheery dahlia blooms swaying gently in the breeze. But I'm not. I'm here (again) sitting in my windowless office staring at a screen, like I always did before.
I'm back at work today. After 10 weeks of medical leave. And I'm feeling a bit depressed. Can you tell?
My wife has been very supportive, driving me to my butt doctor appointments while I'm hopped up on Vicodin and Percocet and unable to drive straight. Waddling into the office from the narrow parking lot, I'm glad that the butt doctor has big comfy leather sofas. It seems to make sense, seeing as what sort of clientele may be sitting upon them.
They took out my appendix while they went in to reconnect my colon. They told me that it was for the best, that it doesn't do anything and will prevent possible future appendicitis. But I still wonder -- what if they discover, later, that it was the central fleshy component of ESP.
Today, I'm back at work. After 10 weeks of medical leave. Going through (I'm guessing) 500 to 700 E-mails that have piled up since March 28th, the last day I checked my E-mail. Lots of nice E-mails about enlarging my penis, increasing my ejaculation, and from amazing people like "HornyCarla6969." Lots of E-mails from collegues asking where I am -- asking why I'm not responding. Where am I? Why am I not in the office?
I'm back at work today. After 10 weeks of medical leave. And I'm glad that someone had the sense to grab the plants in my office and keep them alive. That someone changed my voicemail message to say I would be away until June. The same sandwiches in the cafeteria line. The same cars in the parking lot with their lights left on. The same people walking down the halls staring at their shoes.
I keep thinking of what's playing on CNN. I could be playing my computer game and knocking off a new level. I could be popping a couple of Vicodin at home and eating a Hostess Cherry Pie and sitting on the porch and having a smoke and watching the daytime people walk along the sidewalk in front of my house. Looking at the bright cheery dahlia blooms swaying gently in the breeze. But I'm not. I'm here (again) sitting in my windowless office staring at a screen, like I always did before.
I'm back at work today. After 10 weeks of medical leave. And I'm feeling a bit depressed. Can you tell?
