So last week was my official return to work, except only kind of. I spent two days in a class for a certification I needed for my new position. It was interesting but also really depressing. Mostly because the sole focus of the class was kids in need of emergency care, for every conceivable reason. I was all, “Mah preshuss baybeees!” and wanting to cry and/or run home and hug Eleanor and Zoey and never let go. It didn’t help that it was the longest I had ever actually been away from Eleanor. Anyhoo, I got over it, the kids were great (our new nanny rocks!) and all is good.
Better than good, actually. It felt really good to go in there and be all “Oh! I know the answer to that!” And actually be right a significant percentage of the time. It was nice to know I still have some brain cells in there, clinging to dear life and begging to be given a chance.
So Thursday was supposed to be my first actual day in scrubs, on my new unit. Unfortunately, Zoey and Eleanor had caught a major cold on Monday and by Thursday I was also down for the count. I offered to go in and “power through it” but, seriously, ain’t nobody who wanted to be anywhere near me that day.
So I spent the weekend recuperating (side note: how awesome is it that I have a husband who gets up at 5 o’dark in the morning Monday through Friday, but he will still let me be the one to sleep in on the weekend and take a nap later in the day. Because I have a cold. He rocks.) and I’m doing much better now.
So now today will be my official first day in scrubs, in my new unit. I’m really, really excited, ya’ll! I’ll let you know how it goes later. Send me good vibes so that I don’t accidentally kill anyone today, okay?