One of the aspects of work that used to piss me off was the doctor’s certificate.
I would come down with some bug or other and if it lasted more than a couple of days I had to go crawling to a doctor somewhere, even though I knew he couldn’t help my prevailing condition, to simply get him to sign a note saying I was unfit for work. It was tedious and expensive and probably made my condition worse by dragging me out into the cold.
That nasty little aspect of life disappeared the day I left RTE. In fact on my very last day I availed of that freedom by falling down a flight of stairs and ending up in hospital. I celebrated my freedom by not having to ask the hospital for a sick note.
With a strange twist in fate, since I left there have only been a couple of occasions where I might have needed a cert if I had still been employed. I have had the odd sniffle and cough but nothing remarkable, and certainly nothing to make me change any of my daily routines. So when I was employed I used to have quite a few certs every year, yet I might have had only a couple in the last sixteen years. It doesn’t say much for a healthy workplace?
Anyhows I am availing of my freedom to not produce certs today.
No, I don’t have the flu or anything like that [a bit of a headache, a few aching limbs, nothing that I don’t have most days]. My problem today [and yesterday] is that my brain has ceased to function. It is somehow stuck in neutral. It’s not depression. It’s not apathy. It’s a blank refusal to think about anything. My normal life is utterly disrupted, to the extent that I put the sugar into the fridge after making tea, or buy something in the shops that I have loads of but had forgotten about, or accidentally leaving the cat out all night. Though on second thoughts that last one might have been deliberate.
One of the casualties of this Doldrum condition is that I can’t write anything. The material is there in abundance, but when I get around to musing up a brainfart, the head suddenly reformats itself and not only do I forget what I was going to write, but I also forget what I was even going to write about.
So I’m going on sick-leave until the brain wakes up.
And if you want a certificate, yiz can feck off!