Reflections from a visit to the office

I went to the office yesterday, after having been away for almost a month. “Don’t over-exert yourself”, everyone had said, “don’t go if it’s not mandatory”. And still, I went. The taxi driver loaded my red-and-black wheelchair in the truck, and off we went.
It had only been a few weeks, but even the way to the office seemed changed to me.
Perhaps it was I who was changed.

As I rolled myself into the lobby, my heart was unexpectedly beating hard with excitement. I missed being at work.

Anybody who knows me, even just a bit, knows that I am an attention hog. It’s not something I have developed: my parents claim that even the first weeks after my birth it was clear I liked behind the center of attention. One of my first words was “Mirame”, which is Spanish for “look at me”.
And so, when people crowded around me - asking for the reason I was in a wheelchair, and wanting to know about my condition, I didn’t mind it.
As the day went on, I felt more and more enveloped in affection and caring. Everyone seemed truly concerned about be, everyone appeared to honestly wish I’d get well soon. Everyone had tips and helpful ideas and leads - and I reveled in it.
But I also felt increasingly self conscious… the first look on people’s face when they saw me was one of surprise… with a hint of pity. Some hid the pity, some expressed it, but it was undeniably there. It’s that pity that I had trouble with…
So - while during the first hour I wheeled around - to get a coffee, to speak to a colleague… as the day went on I stayed at my desk more and more, trying to avoid “that look”.

There was so much work to get done, two hours turned into three, then into four, and I eventually I spent 8 hours hard at work - barely noticing the time going by - and not getting out of my chair once.
Big mistake.
The adrenalin of being at the office, along with the painkillers I had taken to get me through the day did a great job of masking the pain that was building up in my leg and hip.
On the way home, I heard it… the small, “i-warned-you-but-you-didn’t-listen” voice saying: “You ignored everyone’s advice, you tried to be a hero, now it’s time to pay”...
And pay I did. All through the evening, and all through night, and still this morning.

Was it my craving for attention that made me cross the line? Was it my uncontrollable workaholism?
Who knows. But it won’t happen again.