Though it’s getting a little harder, considering how it’s been 2 months and counting.
I’m pretty much home-ridden now. And no matter how I had sought to make my room my ‘ultimate hang out spot’ much earlier this year, I realized it’s possible to get absolutely sick of it.
Work kept me going for a while, until I found it difficult to navigate stairs. After 3 close-to-passing-out moments in and around the office, I made the difficult decision to work from home.
Many a time, I find myself missing my normal life.
Going to work every weekday like a regular person.
Having the freedom to just get out of the house to walk anywhere I want, whenever I want.
Having regular conversations with people that do not revolve around health and “eh, what happened to you?”.
I’m still trying to psych myself into thinking that there is a good side to all these. Like hey, you still CAN work (albeit from home). You have not lost your mental capacity to write amazing code. You’re still making a worthwhile contribution to society. (As for the mental capacity to think rationally, well … that’s rather debatable now.)
And the fact that mum and I are much, much closer than before. She’s been really supportive the past 2 months and a half, taking me out for drives when I whine about being too bored at home, spending all her free time with me in the hospital when I was admitted, stocking the house with ample supplies of isotonic drinks and uh, comfort food.
Not to mention how much I prefer to be alone right now and home is the perfect place for me to get all reclusive. (And I’m still pretty much ignoring all my texts as well – sorry, friends. Really. Don’t. Want. To. Talk. About. It.)
And that every day is a step closer to full recovery (I hope). I still feel like crap now but I guess I just have to be patient.
Mum told me the other day she often had trouble answering the above question – which seems to be thrown left, right, up, down, center whenever she meets anyone.
It was then I realized that the industry I’m in is probably unfathomable to anyone in that generation. The startup scene, with its unstable income and unpredictability is still pretty much frowned upon by the baby-boomers (and any generation beyond that), at least in Singapore where people are generally risk-averse
And of course, mum will probably have to dodge the “why doesn’t your daughter just get a proper job?” question when she does tell them what I really do (which she doesn’t know how to answer anyway.)
So, I gave her a model answer to refer to.
“So, what does your daughter do?”
“My daughter spends her life doing something she’s really passionate about. Something that gives her space to be creative. Something that makes her look forward to going to work every single day.”
“So, what is that exactly?”
“You wouldn’t understand anyway. Since you most probably hate your job.”
Hurhur. I’m such a troll, aren’t I?
Picture the scene. Mum and I are seated in my immunologist’s clinic while the former constantly badgers the (slightly overwhelmed-looking) doctor regarding the side effects I have from the immunosuppressants I take regularly.
“Oh yeah, and one more thing,” mum continues.
The immunologist looks at her.
“Why is Brenda getting hairier? Look at her arms! The hair is getting longer! Is this caused by the medicine too?”
The immunologist looks at me. I simply shrugged and give him my usual ‘mum’s worrying too much again‘ look like I always do when she goes about her usual habit of bombarding him with endless questions every visit.
“Well, yeah. It is caused by the medicine,” the immunologist says. “But, is it any cause of concern to you, Brenda?”
“Well, no!” says I.
“I like being hairy. It keeps me nice, warm and fluffy.”
The expression on my immunologist’s face at that moment was epic. From that moment, I think he’s quite convinced that he’s dealing with a loon instead of a patient with autoimmune problems.
And no, I wasn’t being sarcastic. That’s actually 50% truth. I quite like being hairy … definitely not for the ‘nice and fluffy’ part, but well … it does keep me warmer than usual.