Wish You Were Here

Apologies if I’m all over the place. The general anaesthetic is still affecting me so I’ll keep it short.

I’d agreed some time ago with Howard and the Office Manager that, when the operation came up to remove the metalwork in my shoulder, I would take annual leave rather than time on the sick. I didn’t have much choice. Due to our ‘rolling’ sick policy if you take over 10 days then you’re on statutory. Take statutory and Philip wants to sack you. I can’t risk not being paid in the future if I become ill, let alone losing my job.

The Office Manager reiterated last week, while booking her holiday in South Africa, that it would be one thing off my mind if I used my annual leave. Howard smiled, commenting that he is going skiing in Andora.

Yesterday, after two days of staring at a wall in the Trauma Clinic, they wheeled me to theatre to operate.

“Where would you most love to go on holiday?" the anesthetist asked.

Holiday? I groaned and lost consciousness.

When I came round I wanted to get straight home. My mother came to collect me. We passed through the concourse on the way out.

“This is nice,” mum said. “Look, they have Costa coffee, and WH Smiths and Boots. Ooh, and there’s a jewellery shop and a Post Office.”

Shuffling past the Post Office, I thought of buying a postcard to send to Howard. I managed a weak smile at the thought of him receiving my holiday regards.

“Dear Howard, wish you were here!”

See you soon Eva x