A few weeks ago, I spent some unanticipated time in the hospital. A sudden illness turned into three weeks of feeling crummy and, eventually, minor surgery. (FYI – I’m fine now.) The hours passed. My patience dwindled. All I wanted was a day at the office!
I don’t think I’m a true workaholic, but I love and need to be busy. I can work almost anywhere, anytime. I love to do business and make things happen. Retirement is not a concept I can consider.
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I’ve been sick before, and I am a prostate cancer survivor. (Which gives me an opportunity to remind all men 50 and over: Insist that your doctor order a PSA – prostate-specific antigen – screen for you annually.) But this three weeks of health-imposed “vacation” at the Mayo Clinic, 90 miles away from my Minneapolis home, left me with too much time to think about where I’d rather be: at work.
My able assistants were taking care of business and keeping me updated about all important matters. But I missed the everyday things that punctuate the day. I missed being there. I missed a lot of things, including:
*The sound of the alarm. I don’t ordinarily start my morning by checking my vital signs, although it was good to know that I still had a pulse. I had a strange urge to put on a suit and tie. I felt like I was slacking off, even though I knew I needed to be where I was.
How many of us wake up every morning and take our health for granted?
*Windshield time. I use my lengthy commute to listen to tapes and CDs on a variety of business topics. I catch up on the news, possibly listen to a rehash of last night’s big game and there’s always the phone (hands-free, of course).
I plan my day while I’m watching the road. I like being part of the big rat race of busy people. It gets me pumped up and ready to try to achieve something big each day.
*The phone calls. Sure, I had a phone in my hospital room, and I gave it a workout. But for a fellow who conducts at least half of his business over the phone and normally needs a surgeon to get the phone out of his ear, it was an adjustment.
I really tried hard to cooperate with the parade of doctors who were trying to get me well. But they have rules about cell phones in X-ray.
*The brain stimulation. I was still going through mail, making decisions, reading papers and trade journals. But somehow doing all that in a hospital gown affects your focus.
You don’t realize how accustomed you become to sitting in your desk chair, with everything within reach and everyone within earshot, cramming 18 hours of work into 10 hours.
I learned a lot of new words, none of which I will be able to use in my business. But I also learned I was surrounded by really intelligent, competent people – we just didn’t speak the same (business) language.
*Office camaraderie. Sure, I had plenty of personal contact. My doctors, nurses, therapists and technicians were fine people, willing to answer my ceaseless questions and listen to my occasional complaints.
I longed for a meeting, believe it or not, with a problem or two to solve. A power lunch would have been delightful. Hearing about an employee’s kid scoring a touchdown, sharing weekend plans or investigating a new piece of equipment to improve our service would have been a welcome diversion.
I missed swapping jokes. I’m a better people-person than sick person.
Now that I’m back in the saddle, I can tell you that I appreciate my work more than ever. I’ve been in the envelope manufacturing business for more than 40 years, and it is in my blood (although the lab tests didn’t show that).
What’s my point in sharing all this with you?
I want you to appreciate your good health, your jobs and your lives. Even when things seem boring or routine, it still gives you a reason to get up in the morning. Make the most of it. A bad day at work is still better than a day in a hospital bed.
Harvey Mackay can be reached through his Web site: www.mackay.com.
