Back to Work...The Office Edition

So this week was another milestone, specifically, my first days back in the office. Due to some rather strange circumstances, I work out of two locations: New Haven, CT and White Plains, NY. When I am helping my wife out by bringing our girls to day care, I work out of the New Haven office, which is closer to Alecia and the girls. When I do not have to bring the girls to day care, I go to White Plains, which is the office I started working in and so is kind of the "home office" for me.

On Tuesday, Alecia had to attend a funeral for a coworker. In addition to this being a very sad occasion for her, it became the first time she needed me to take the girls since the doctor cleared me to drive last Wednesday. With my parents out of town, there weren't too many other options. So off I went.

I was a bit anxious about going back. I mean, I have a desk job, so it isn't all that strenuous. But the thought of being trapped in a location where I cannot easily take a break was kind of daunting. Plus, several of the afib incidents I had at the beginning of the year started when I was sitting at my desk. There is still the nagging suspicion that the stress of work is one of the triggers for my condition. I know this is a ridiculous thought, because the reason my heart goes afib is because I have a congenital heart defect. But it is sometimes hard not to be superstitious.

The mind also plays strange tricks when you are facing a change like going back to work after being out on disability and modifications for two months. One of the mistakes I made in going back was that I "forgot" to tell my boss my plans. I didn't tell him last week. I didn't tell him on Monday. Worst of all, I didn't even tell him on Tuesday when I was actually in the office.

My reasons for this boneheaded move are a bit obscure, but I think they come down to one thing: I was afraid. First, I was afraid that if I told my boss that I would be back, he would make me come in full time, and I would no longer have the option to ease back in, or even decide that I couldn't work in the office every day. This was ridiculous given the fact that my boss has been so understanding, but the fear was there anyway.

The second fear I had, and the one that was probably had much more to do with my forgetfulness, is this: for the first three months of 2011, it seemed as if each time I went in to the office, I would have a recurrence of afib, and would end up back in the hospital. I thought that if I just didn't tell anyone that I was back, they wouldn't make a connection between me working in the office and going to the hospital. And call me odd, but I feel as though it is important for my relationship with my coworkers for them not to wonder (any more than they already do), if I'll be in the hospital the day after they see me. I know it is not quite rational to think that way, but it is as difficult as anything else I've been through to try and help my co-workers deal with my frequent absences due to my heart issues.

Of course, my decision to sneak back into work like a thief in the night was not the best. Late in the day, my boss needed to fill out an asset validation form for the computer I use in New Haven. Since he didn't know that I was there, he sent the teammate who works in New Haven with me to find out what the validation number on the computer was. My teammate, being practical, came over, got the number, and went back to his desk. After finding out what he had been doing at my desk, I felt compelled to tell my boss that I had actually been sitting there, and then my boss felt awkward, presumably because his request to my teammate made it seem like he couldn't keep track of where his employees were. That was not my intention.

I made sure to tell him that I would be in White Plains today.

Thank Yous!

It has been a little over a month since my surgery, and I have just been cleared to get back to lifting, driving, working, and all the rest of the pieces of a normal life. Which left one thing to be done.

One of the things that is amazing about being sick is the response you get from people. The day after I came home from my sternotomy, for example, food was delivered to us from my wife's co-workers at ESPN. We had known that they were going to get us some grocery supplies to help out while I was busy recovering, but the poor delivery person had to make a multitude of trips up our stairs to get all the food up. I'm talking about four or five trips from a delivery woman who is used to hauling quite a bit up in a single trip. It was simply amazing.

A few days later, I opened the door, and found a box outside. From the look of it, it was flowers, which is kind of what you would expect. But when I opened it, I found that my guess was only half right. It was actually flower bulbs in three flower pots, plus a beautiful window box to put them all in. My first thought was that it was nice that someone knows me well enough to know that I would enjoy growing the flowers rather than getting cut flowers that wouldn't last, and my second thought was that it was going to be neat to show my girls how the flowers grow. The gift and two cards filled with well wishes and signatures, had come from my co-workers at AT&T.

The final surprise came a few days later, right before Easter. Two more boxes had mysteriously landed at our door and when we brought them inside and opened them, we found two green wheelbarrows stuffed with Easter goodies for the girls. Best of all, each wheelbarrow was personalized with the name of one of our girls. What a great gift! Like the food and the flowers, it was something that would help the girls feel special and perhaps let them know that the world was a good place. It was another gift from my co-workers, and I was touched.

I still find it hard to say why, but the food, flower bulbs, and wheelbarrows meant more to me than anything else our co-workers could have done. I guess it meant to me that they know me and Alecia well enough to know that our primary concern as I was recovering would be in taking care of our girls, and making sure they weren't picking up on any stress we might have. I think that is why it touched me so much to get those thoughtful gifts. I didn't need gifts to know that all our friends were thinking of us, but it really meant a lot to know that they were there to help all of us.

So of course, being brought up with some manners, I really wanted to say thank you to all those people who gave us gifts. In fact, on the day we got the groceries, we were so touched by the generosity, that I immediately wrote an e-mail and sent it. But being somewhat traditional, I wanted to do more.

Now the tradition at AT&T is to pin a thank you note to a bulletin board so that everyone there can see and enjoy the thank you. Since I lost count of the people on the distribution soliciting for the gift for me somewhere around thirty, I decided early on that I would adopt this method for the thank you for my co-workers.

The situation was different for the guys from ESPN, though. First of all, there were only eleven of them. Second of all, the bulletin board thank you note doesn't seem to be a tradition there (I asked my wife). Third, and most importantly, it had meant so much to us to get the gift from them. (By the way, lest I forget, the two teams had also given us some spending money - left over after all their other generosity.) Alecia and I agreed that we should give everyone a thank you note.

Do you know how difficult it is to write eleven different versions of a thank you note? I guess I could have written one version and copied it eleven times, but I kept thinking that all of the people who I would be writing to are on the same team, and might see each other's notes. And more than anything, I wanted them to know how important their generosity was to us. So I wrote eleven thank you notes.

I feel a sense of accomplishment, and maybe a slight sense of closure. I told the same story eleven times, and I do have to say that I think I made each one as personal as I could. It was actually interesting, the writing equivalent of Monet's Cathedral at Rouen series. The basic message was the same: it meant a lot to us, but somehow I found different minor chords to sound in some of the notes. I hope they convey the thanks that they are supposed to.

And now, I just realized that I have written that thank you note for the twelfth time. Thanks again everyone for your support and generous hearts!