I knew it would happen, and my six-week-chunk-conditioned brain spat out the dummy, threw the toys out of the pram, and parked itself square in the middle of the aisle today. I'm OK, but today was my first brain-fog at work, coming up to eight months post aneurysm-rupture.
Being me, I had a little cry, because it wasn't fair, then told myself off, for being a big baby, because life isn't fair, and figured out what I could do, before I turned into a whale omelette in a suit for a couple of hours. I wasn't going home, that was absolutely certain, and I didn't need an ambulance, despite several 'concerned' people saying "What are you doing on your OWN?" I have a brain injury, I don't need a babysitter. I told my manager I was unwell, but not unwell enough to go home, just unwell enough that I couldn't make any major decisions. I asked his permission to communicate that fact to my 'teams', and work on admin until my brain came back, no external calls, no external emails, no life-or-death decisions. He asked me if I was sure, and I said I wouldn't be speaking to him if I wasn't sure.
This comes wrapped around an instance where a colleague might have had multiple TIA's, and has been emailing and text-messaging absolute rubbish at all hours of day and night, before declaring herself fit for work today, and just turning up. I don't know if she's signed fit-for-work, and HER manager doesn't work Fridays...
This also comes wrapped around my son having a disagreement with one of his friends. One of his friends who is known to mental health services, following previous suicidal ideation. I'm trying to teach my boy not to be a crutch, but he's empathetic, like I am, and he's been 'carrying' this other child for ages, before telling him 'No.'.
I'm waffling, I have a lot going on, we all do.
Today, I emailed my First Aid team, my Child Protection team, and my Pastoral team and said I was effectively on do-not-disturb until further notice. I emailed the reception desks, and asked them to email me any calls that came in for me, explaining to the caller that I was 'Not at my desk', in direct contradiction of the message I had sent to my other teams...
For about three hours, I did mindless, but not-dangerous admin, and then I realised I was OK. The weekend brain-fog is more pervasive, because I sit about, thinking my what-if thoughts. I ate something, I took some painkillers, and, by about 2pm, I was reasonably OK, until the woman with the clip-board came to find me, and tell me she'd expected me to be somewhere else.
I don't want to have to do that often, but work were BRILLIANT about giving me down-time, and distance.