This story’s getting a little old now…
- January: overhydrate & collapse at Ironman 70.3 and wake up in the medical tent.
- January – March: walk around with my ankle hanging on the floor. An MRI diagnoses a non-existent peroneal tendon.
- April: Peroneal tendon reconstruction & repair surgery.
- May & June: Foot in the air, in a leg cast.
- July – September: Intense rehab to get back on track, in order to join the rest of my training team in preparation for IM70.3 in 2014.
That was my year so far. Then I resigned from my job to start up my own freelance business and focus on my family. I had clients lined up and they were all eagerly waiting for me to work out my notice period so that I could blind them with my awesomeness from October.
- 27 September: We come home after Da Chick’s birthday supper, followed by me spending the rest of the night crying on the bathroom floor and wondering whether I was in labour.
- 29 September: I host Da Chick’s birthday party, high on pain killers.
- 30 September: Last day at the office. Spend the rest of the night curled up on the bathroom floor again. This time, with a dash of projectile vomiting. Charming.
- 1 October: Sick as a dog. First day of freelance client service and I can hardly see straight.
- 1 October: Go to the doc. She takes blood and worries about my liver.
- 2 October, am: About to do a client presentation when the doc calls in a panic and tells me to go home. “You may have hepatitis.”
- 2 October, pm: Finally go home. Busy designing the powerpoint presentation for my memorial service. Call the doctor and have a cry over my impending doom.
- 2 October, pm: Doc calls to let me know I don’t have hepatitis, but sends me to hospital for a scan.
- 3 October: Clients getting nervous. I’m on deadlines. And feel like dying.
- 3 October: Scan at hospital: I have an infected gallbladder and appear to have passed one or two gallstones. (I have GALLSTONES??????????????)
- 4 October: Surgeon advises that my gallbladder comes out asap. “You may not be so lucky next time.”
- 8 October: Check in at Constantiaberg for surgery. I still sign off creative collateral and have a conference call with a client moments before they wheel me into theatre.
- 8 October: Surgeon calls Da Husband to let him know I am NOT allowed to do a triathlon that weekend, in case I wanted to sneak out (I was planning to).
- 9 October: Come home. Have a little cry because I’m no longer gainfully employed and can’t take sick leave.
- 9 – 11 October: Work
- 12 October: Miss my friend Lynne’s 50th birthday party because I can hardly walk, sit, cough, stand, laugh, sneeze or talk too loudly.
- 12 October: Also miss Tri Rock Robben Island <sob>
I won’t lie, this was definitely not how I had envisioned my glorious self-employment debut.
It’s also put me out of training for the rest of the month. I’m seeing the doc on Friday and hope to get an all-clear to resume my training.
I have a little triathlon in December to train for, after all…
I have learnt some valuable lessons though:
- Don’t consult your calendar to plan surgery around your race days… especially not when your surgeon is within earshot…
- Laparoscopic surgery is not as easy on the body as they tell you. It felt like I had four c-sections for a whole week!
- Anaesthesiologists are evil. They’re all like “looking for a vein”… then you look around and admire the operating theatre, look back and ask if they found a vein, only to hear that it’s two hours later and the operation is over. I could have died, man!
- No. They can’t do a spot of liposuction while they’re at it.