Friday, 14 March 2008

*sigh*... Month number three on the inactivity listing for the sick :(


Renewal time for my sick note, it seems. There I was, ready for my quack - ahem, sorry, Doctor - to sign me back as ready for light duties, but no, he's still not happy with my blood pressure - despite it being a healthy 120/70 this time. So, he's raising one of my prescription doses, and signing me off for another month, with the comment "Let's see how we do in a fortnight".

What's with the "We" bit, Doc? Did you have this heart attack? nope, I did.

Are you the one going terminally insane from climbing the walls in boredom at home most of the time? No. I am.

Are you, perhaps, going terminally nucking futs from walking a mile a day or more to get my ticker in shape? No. I am, though. It's the same bloody scenery every day: Only the bleedin' weather changes.

Unlike a lot, it seems from the news, of those of us 'on the sick', I actually WANT to get back to earning a living, rather than collecting sick pay (although this might have more than a smidgen to do with company sick pay being, well, crap, in a word).

At least the Depot Inspector (Service Delivery Officer to give him his correct title!) was a bit more civilised that the Allocations guy last time (he's a good bloke, really!). While I was in the surgery getting the "Authority to continue to be a layabout" chit, he phoned me on my mobile. I'd naturally switched it off, as I was in a medical centre, and they frown on mobile phones being left on in places like that. Something about mobiles messing with medical equipment. I think it's probably more to do with horrifyingly banal and repetitive ring tones, but that's only my opinion, of course!

Cheerily, he left a message: "Coming back tomorrow, mate? Phone me on my mobile or at the depot, please!"

Less than cheerily, I phoned him back after getting out of the surgery. "I'm coming in to give you my latest chit. See you in a little while"

Didn't faze him a bit. Mind you, he did have a minor pop at me (he wouldn't be a Garage Inspector if he didn't take the opportunity!). "Gods, you've put on weight!"

Tell me sommat I didn't know, mate! It's the giving up smoking that did it. Next up: Crash diet (when the doc says it's OK to do so, that is. Don't want another bloody heart attack, do I?!)

So. here I am, later the same day. Writing my blant, and wondering just what the hell I'm gonna do for another month (maybe only a fortnight... yeah, right).

I'll write a fair few more blants, I guess.

I mean, what else am I apparently allowed to do? Answers on a postcard to the usual place, please!

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