On my good days my back and neck hurt, my eyes scratch, I’m nauseous and my feet cramp.  On my bad days……well they are just BAD.

For fives days a week I choose to push on regardless of the good or the bad  and go to work.  I go to work as I want to try and live as normal as possible.  I go to work because I love what I do.  I love the inspirational people I work with.  I love trying to make a difference.  I love learning.  I love having a sense of purpose.  But most of all I love that some days I get so busy and so engrossed in what I’m doing that I actually forget whether I’m having a good day or a bad day.  I actually forget, even if it is just for a fleeting moment, that my kidneys have failed.  I actually forget that I am fighting to stay alive.

My first job was at a cafe that specialised in hot fudge sundaes and homemade rocky road ice cream.  At fifteen years of age I looked forward to my Friday and Saturday nights at the small corner shop with pink curtains and plastic white chairs.  I had fun working, and yes the fact that I had a never ending supply of marshmallows and raspberry lollies definitely helped.

My love for my work has continued into my adult career.  I am currently in a role that makes me want to get out of bed in the morning.  This isn’t because my role is glamorous or prestigious.  And I’m not working for a sexy innovative start up that is going to revolutionise the world. But in my opinion what I have right now is so much more than all of that put together.  In my current role I work alongside amazing people that I trust, respect and learn from everyday.  We are passionate about what we do and I feel apart of something that is bigger than me.  I am a part of a team that cares and is striving everyday for the greater good.

In addition to being in an awesome team a few of my work colleagues have crossed the boundary into friendship.  We chat, laugh and share our weekend stories.  We do lunch and birthday shopping together.  We even support each other outside of work.  For me they have become a critical support unit that get me through my BAD days and they are usually the first people I turn to for advice and to share my hospital stories. They have become more than just work colleagues and are irreplaceable to me.

Saying all this choosing to work full time means I also choose a limited weekend.  By Thursday my body feels as though I’ve been hit by a truck and I’m so exhausted I could sleep standing up on a bus.  That’s my sacrifice.  That’s my trade off.  I can work five days but then every night I’m  asleep by the time the sun goes down and Im lucky to manage a two hour pyjama free window on the weekend.  I’ve literally turned into a sleeping machine.

I think about reducing my hours.  I even talk about cutting back with friends.  But I know I would just be swapping that working day for couch time.  I wouldn’t have a purpose to get out of my pyjamas and I would become that sick person who only works part time.  Yes there is a good argument that perhaps if I worked less I wouldn’t be as tired and perhaps I could do  more “me” things.  But the truth is I love my current role.  Ok not always the role itself but I have a boss and team that I learn from everyday.  I enjoy their company, I believe in what we do and I’m inspired by them and our vision.  I also laugh and cry with them.  I share my ups and downs with them.  We share five days.

I know that nothing lasts forever so for now I want to hang onto my five days while I can.  I don’t know how long I’ll be able to battle it out but right now that’s what I choose.

I choose work over couch.