The Wrong Type of Leave

I went up to work today, because. Because I'm going to start going to work again, because. Because a lot of reasons. Self-improvement, yada yada. Unfortunately, I think all these surgeries have killed some brain cells, because man, I am slooooooooow.

Anyway, I left work in August with an impending fiasco that almost made me excited for my mastectomy. LOL. The details aren't important, but they center around a digital textbook that has basically been a nightmare, and has almost cost me a few friendships within the department, because there is constant tension about said nightmarish digital textbook.

I returned to discover that the situation has barely improved since I left; in fact, it may have gotten even more complicated. And my mind can't handle complicated right now. (I'll play the surgery card all that I have to considering I don't even have to be up at work if I don't want to be.) I sent off a few e-mails about the textbook situation to our textbook rep, as well as the guy who does the tech stuff, who immediately called me. The conversation started off like this:

Him: How's your baby?
Me: Ummmm... huh?
Him: I thought you were on maternity leave.
Me: No, I WISH. Pause. I was on medical leave.
Him (sheepishly): Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I don't know why you I thought you were having another baby!

I let him stutter around and feel uncomfortable because I was actually a bit ticked off, because his textbook stinks and the customer support sucks dog testes. I found myself enjoying playing the mysterious medical problem card a little too much. And it's true, even though I'm a die-hard believer in ZPG, I would rather be having another baby than having breast cancer.

Of course, assuming that I'm on maternity leave is a reasonable assumption, as that would actually be normal, except that faculty at my school don't actually get any maternity leave, but that's a minor detail, LOL. Toward the end of summer, when I told people at work I was going to be on leave, I could see them eyeing my belly. It was kind of fun leaving them in suspense about what could possibly be wrong with me that I looked fine, yet knew I was going to be gone for six weeks (and didn't appear to be pregnant). This particular guy and I have never met in person - in fact, he's thousands of miles away - but it was still fun to play the cancer card. Without actually playing it, that is. More like just holding it in my hand and trying to make confusing poker faces.

What can I say, I have to entertain myself somehow. I mean, hello, I HAVE CANCER AND YOU SHOULD FEEL SORRY FOR ME!