Take a Moment

by Nina Kaye

  I recognise the unpleasant swirling as nerves: the kind you get when starting a new job. This is annoying because I’m returning to a place where I’ve enjoyed working for several years, but the longer I’ve been away, the more detached from it I’ve felt. Add to that the question of how my colleagues will behave with me, knowing I’ve been away so long. I asked Laura for complete discretion, and I know she’ll honour this without question; however, there are other ways people could have heard. Glasgow may be a city of nearly six hundred thousand, but in the corporate sector it feels more like a village.

  On top of the nerves, there’s something else going on that I can’t quite grasp. It’s more unsettling, more of a nagging feeling, like something’s just not quite right.

  The subway train whooshes into my station, coming to an abrupt and destabilising halt. As the doors fly open, I alight from the carriage and move along the platform, carried by the momentum of the commuters around me. I’m relieved to be getting closer to work, where I won’t have to move around much for the rest of the day – because while the fatigue has lifted enough for me to cope with the demands of everyday life, I’m still far from where I was before my relapse.

  Emerging from the underground station into the bright morning sunshine, I find myself more aware of my surroundings than I ever was. Instead of hurrying along the road, face planted in my emails, I make my way along Buchanan Street at about half the speed I might have done previously (not by choice, of course).

  I take in the buzz of my surroundings: revving car engines, the whoosh from the brakes of the double-decker buses, the vibrations coming from the subway below, the strum of a guitar from an early-bird busker trying in vain to attract the attention of the passing worker bees. And people all around me. For the first time, it dawns on me how people seem to sleepwalk through their lives, locked on autopilot as they pound the endless hamster wheel of life. Like an early scene from an apocalyptic movie – but in this one, the threat to humanity is that people live their whole lives without looking up from their gadgets, then discover they’ve missed so much of what life has offered them.

  As I continue along the pavement, passing by one smombie after another, I’m suddenly inspired to make a change to the lyrics of the song I wrote. I stop momentarily to punch it into my notepad app, then quietly sing back the words I’ve written, ensuring no one can hear me.

  ‘Just take a moment, open up your eyes, look beyond your gadgets, lift your disguise.’

  It’s a pleasant distraction from the nervous churning in my stomach and the awareness that, whenever I try to up my pace, my body resists these instructions like a stubborn mule.

  Eventually I reach my office and climb the steps towards the main entrance, my legs feeling like lead, providing an unwelcome reminder that I’m about to face the unknown. Is that the nagging feeling I’m having? No, that’s not it. It will be tough getting back into the game, but I’m determined, and I’ve got a medical opinion that supports my ability to do so.

  ‘Alex. So good to see you back.’ My manager, Laura, gives me an unexpected but not unwelcome hug when I reach my desk. ‘We’ve missed you.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’ I hug her back, then turn to dump my bag under my desk. ‘Oh, looks like someone’s sitting here. Was there a desk move while I was away?’

  I look around and note that all my other colleagues seem to be sitting in their usual places.

  ‘Sorry, I should have said.’ Laura’s face is apologetic. ‘Alan’s sitting there. Didn’t make sense us having to shout across the desks to each other all the time.’

  ‘Right.’ I try not to show that this has bothered me. ‘So, I guess he can move back now then.’

  ‘Why don’t you put your stuff over at Alan’s desk? We’ve got a catch-up in the diary anyway.’

  ‘We have?’

  This is news to me. I checked my calendar on my work phone before leaving my apartment and there were no meeting requests pending.

  ‘Yes, I thought we’d go for a coffee and a chat.’

  ‘Sure, sounds good.’

  I’m pleased that Laura’s prioritising me. This is exactly what I need – to throw myself into things, take the focus off my medical situation and more importantly, get Alan packed back off to assistant project manager-land.

  ‘Shall we?’ Laura grabs her purse from her handbag and gestures in the direction of the lifts.

  We engage in light-hearted chit-chat about the latest Netflix box sets we’ve gotten hooked on as we make our way down to the brightly lit office cafe. Then, drinks in hand, we find a table at the furthest corner by the floor-to-ceiling windows to allow us some privacy.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Laura ditches a sachet of sugar into her coffee and gives it a good stir.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I sip at my own drink. ‘Just so pleased to be back.’

  ‘I bet you are. You must have been going stir crazy stuck at home, especially with the active lifestyle you normally lead.’

  ‘It was frustrating, but it’s in the past now – thankfully. What’s the latest on the project? I assume Alan knows I’m back today. It must have been a lot of pressure on him having to step up like that.’

  Laura hesitates mid-sip, like she’s weighing up how to answer.

  ‘What’s up?’ I ask. ‘You can tell me about Alan. I need to know what’s been going on so I can help him develop.’

  ‘Alex.’ Laura places her coffee on the table. ‘Alan has done just fine. He’s had some moments of uncertainty and has inevitably made mistakes, but he and I have gotten to a good place. A lot like the way you and I did when you were learning.’

  An air raid siren starts blaring in my head. What’s with the speech? And the reminder of my humble professional roots? What should be most relevant here is that I have a wealth of experience that Laura can draw on with confidence that I’ll be on it, whatever ‘it’ is. Why do I have a looming feeling that I’m about to hear something I really won’t like?

  Laura picks up on the ticking in my brain and takes the conversation in a different direction.

  ‘Alex, I don’t want us to move on to work too quickly. As your manager, I have a duty of care to you. It’s important we discuss your wellbeing, so I can support you in the best way possible. Let’s have a chat about how you’re doing.’

  ‘What? Oh, come on, Laura. This is you and me. We’ve worked together for ages. Surely we don’t have to go through that stuff.’

  ‘Actually, we do. You’ve been off for a significant period with a not insignificant health issue that, although you say it’s in the past, is not a one-off event. You also had an accident at work related to your condition—’

  ‘I slipped on a piece of paper.’

  ‘Because of symptoms related to your condition.’ Laura cocks her head in an attempt to make me understand this. ‘Alex, I have a legal obligation under the Equality Act to look at reasonable adjustments to your role that will make it easier for you to attend work regularly.’

  The air raid siren is joined by mini explosions in my brain as Laura drops these bombs on me. Equality Act? Reasonable adjustments so I can attend work regularly? This all sounds so alien to me. Between the endless blazing arguments with Dom at home, my mum, sister and even Sasha mollycoddling me, and now this, I’m starting to wonder if I’m stuck in one long nightmare.

  ‘Sorry, Laura. I need a moment to process this.’ I rest my elbows on the table and massage my temples. ‘I wasn’t expecting this kind of conversation this morning.’

  ‘Take your time,’ Laura encourages me, and sits back to give me space.

  After about twenty seconds of silence, which includes an inner pep talk to keep myself calm, I mirror her position.

  ‘OK, let’s get this out of the way. What do you want to know?’

  ‘Alex, this isn’t an interrogation.’ Laura laughs. ‘I’m here to support you.’

  ‘Well, why does it seem like one then? All I want is to get on with things and not focus on my sit
uation.’

  ‘Why don’t you start by telling me how you’ve been feeling?’ she suggests.

  ‘OK… sure.’ I attempt a smile, but feel too exposed. ‘I’ve been feeling all right. Still a bit fatigued, but that’s reducing gradually.’

  ‘And how did you feel about coming back today?’

  ‘Good.’

  Good until I got here and this conversation started.

  ‘I’m glad.’ Laura stirs her coffee absently. ‘Alex, it’s absolutely your right to keep your condition confidential, but it might be worth considering whether to tell your teammates. So they can offer you support and understand what’s going on next time you have a period of absence like this, which seems likely. They’ve been worried about you.’

  As Laura says this, there’s an uncomfortable jolt in my abdomen and the nagging feeling from this morning returns with a vengeance. I suddenly realise what it is. It’s fear. Fear of being seen differently. Fear of being treated differently and of being seen as unreliable. Because as much as I can pretend nothing’s happening to me, it’s not like I can persuade my body to play along.

  This realisation spooks me and almost derails my thoughts entirely, but as I see Laura looking back at me expectantly, I know I have to hold it together. She can’t be allowed to see this uncharacteristic sense of vulnerability that has emerged. I straighten myself up in my chair to give myself a mental boost.

  ‘Look, Laura, I hear what you’re saying, but I think I’d rather keep this to myself. I’m just getting my own head around things and the last thing I need is lots of questions and sympathetic looks.’

  ‘That’s fair.’ She nods. ‘I hadn’t thought about it that way.’

  ‘And if you don’t mind, can we do this whole “reasonable adjustments” thing later? I’d rather focus on getting back into things, then I’ll be able to tell you what support I think I need.’

  Laura studies me for a moment. It’s clear she doesn’t want to let this conversation go, but she’s also smart enough to realise it will be more productive when I’m ready to deal with it.

  ‘OK, fine,’ she concedes reluctantly. ‘But there are a couple of things I want to cover before you head off.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  She hesitates again. ‘I’d like you to work shorter days this week, to avoid you getting too tired. Coming back to work after a long period of absence can be tough.’

  ‘OK… I suppose that makes sense.’

  ‘Also, I’m going to keep Alan on as project manager on the implementation. It’s a challenging role with a tight timeline and a lot of pressure attached to it. Pressure I don’t think you need, given the circumstances.’

  As she says these words, a feeling of hurt mixed with anger starts to simmer inside me. This isn’t about looking after me. If it was, she’d be asking me what I need, not causing me stress by taking away something that’s so important to me. She doesn’t trust that I can do the job any more and unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about it – she can assign me to any project she wants me on.

  ‘Right. So if you’re taking me off that project, what are you reassigning me to?’ I force the words through my tensed jaw.

  ‘There’s a new piece of work being set up to look at some issues with our time and attendance system. It’s something we’ve been needing to address for some time. I thought you’d be perfect to lead that and fortunately it doesn’t have a hard deadline against it.’

  This winds me up even further. A project to address a longstanding problem with no set timeline? Translation: something unimportant that nobody really cares about. I’m being handed a made-up project so they can keep me out the way.

  I take a deep breath to make sure I don’t blurt out how I’m really feeling. ‘Laura, this feels a bit like you’re demoting me.’

  ‘Not at all, Alex. But it is important that we don’t push you beyond what you can cope with, and we must have that conversation about your wellbeing – not least because the company is strict about absence levels. I need to make sure we’ve done everything we can to ensure future absences are minimised, otherwise we’ll have another problem on our hands.’

  I feel a sharp sting as these words sink in. Not only does she no longer trust me to lead a business-critical project, she’s hanging formal absence management procedures over my head. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been a consistently strong performer – that label I worked so hard to earn for myself has been replaced by a bloody great flashing badge that declares ‘problem employee’. The loyalty I’ve shown Laura, shown the organisation, counts for nothing. Suddenly my feeling of vulnerability grows hugely as the realisation hits me: I’m no longer in control of my own professional destiny.

  ‘Right.’ I can no longer look at Laura. I’m so disappointed to find her following this predictable managerial path, without even attempting to fight for me. ‘Well, I’ll get back to my desk. Sorry… Alan’s desk.’

  ‘Alex, please don’t be like this.’

  Laura tries to make eye contact, but I continue to avoid her gaze. Then as we get up to head back to our floor, I’m unable keep my frustration at bay.

  ‘You know, Laura. I might have been diagnosed with a horrible illness. But I don’t feel like I’m the one that’s changed.’

  * * *

  ‘Hi, kitten,’ Dom hollers as he enters our apartment, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Hi,’ I respond with the enthusiasm of a caged rhinoceros.

  I’m lying on our bed with my eyes closed, having not moved since arriving home and discarding my coat, bag and shoes on the floor beside me, two hours earlier. Unable to sleep, but too exhausted to get up and do anything, I’ve spent most of that time staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day.

  Dom pushes open the half-closed bedroom door and surveys me and the pile by my bedside. ‘Tough first day back?’

  I reluctantly open my eyes and look at him. ‘That’s an understatement.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’ He gives me a sympathetic smile and a kiss on the lips, then moves round to his side of the bed, where he changes out of his suit. ‘It was always going to be tough going back.’

  ‘I didn’t realise how tough.’ I rub at my tired eyes. ‘Like that I was going to be robbed of my work. Did you get my text?’

  ‘Yeah, I did, sorry. Barely had a chance to read it. You said something about Laura treating you like you’re incapable, and Alan’s stolen your project?’

  ‘That pretty much sums it up. Oh, and about three hundred people either asked me how I’m “keeping” or walked straight past, pretending not to see to me. People I know well, who’d normally crack a bit of banter with me. It’s clearly gotten round the office about my MS. Even Sasha was doing my head in at lunchtime, wittering on about vitamin supplements and telling me to pace myself.’

  ‘That’s rough, kitten.’ Dom joins me on the bed, stretching himself out, putting his arms behind his head. ‘But with your role, it’s doesn’t sound totally unreasonable to suggest you take it easy for a while. You are still recovering and if it were any of my team members, I’d do the same.’

  A switch suddenly flicks in my consciousness, irritation bubbling inside me. Here we go again. Why, when I just need a bit of moral support, does Dom have to put his manager hat on? He already treats me like an invalid. Why can’t he be my fiancé first?

  ‘And I suppose you’d threaten your newly returned team member with formal absence management as well?’ I demand.

  ‘Whoa.’ Dom turns his head towards me. ‘Where did that come from? I’m just saying that supporting you is a good thing. If they’d chucked you back into the shit straight away, that would have been unfair, irresponsible – and a risk to your wellbeing.’

  My irritation develops into full-blown exasperation. ‘There’s that bloody word again. Everything’s about my wellbeing now. It has never been used in my presence before all this, and now it’s haunting me like the sodding ghosts from that Christmas film. I am the gh
ost of workplace future. Your career will spontaneously combust at the chime of midnight, unless you look after your wellbeing and never go off sick again…’

  ‘Lex, what’s gotten into you?’

  ‘What’s gotten into me is that this is all bullshit. I haven’t changed, Dom. I’m still the same person, but for some reason I’m being treated like some kind of lesser being.’

  ‘Hey, come on. That’s not true.’ He tries to stroke my hair, but I flick his hand away.

  ‘Really? Were you there?’ I eyeball him accusingly. ‘Because I’m pretty sure you have no idea. You waltz through life without a care in the world, with your perfect health and your perfect job. You have no idea what this is like. Being constantly poked and prodded, the gruelling physio, the disease-modifying drugs, then on top of all that, people treating me like I’m incapable.’

  I pull myself up from the bed, my whole body screaming at me in protest.

  ‘Is that what you think?’ Dom sits up as well, hurt and resentment clouding his face, his voice rising. ‘You think all this is a stroll in the park for me? I may not be experiencing the physical side of this, Lex, but it’s sure as hell not easy for me either.’

  ‘Oh, come on. There’s no comparison. Try being me for a day, then you’ll realise how easy you’ve got it.’

  Dom looks at me in disbelief. ‘Are you kidding? I’ve been doing the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry… I’ve had to take on all the wedding-related stuff.’

  ‘Don’t give me that. You and my mother took over the wedding planning without even consulting me.’

  ‘And you could have handled it, could you?’ Dom locks eyes with me, his temper hot like lava. ‘You couldn’t do anything for yourself for weeks. I’ve been waiting on you hand and foot ever since—’

  ‘Well, no one’s asking you to,’ I spit back. ‘I never wanted to be treated like a patient. You turned me into one.’

  ‘That may be the case to a certain extent, but things have changed, Lex. You need to wake up and start accepting this situation because I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to take much more.’