"It's routine, but it's major"

 

"It's routine, but it's major". I find myself saying this a lot lately. To others, to myself.

All month I've been telling people I'm going on leave for six weeks. There's a lot of people who have an interest in me being around, so a lot of people to deliver this message to. 

I needed to let my manager, the Dean know. I'm a Head of School, so I had to find someone willing to take over from me. My academic, professional and teaching staff are friends - the joys of leading a small, collegial school - and needed to know on a personal as well as professional level. Research leaders I report to in my capacity as an Associate Investigator on 5 external research projects had to be informed, and expect a ball or two to get dropped. Research associates and assistants who report to me needed to be prepped for my absence. 6 weeks is a long time in research so my colleagues needed to have a heads up. Anyone I was booked to give a guest lecture, seminar or panel for I had to do a backtrack on, and explain why. To the half dozen requests each week to, in future, do any of these things, I felt duty-bound to thank them for their invitation, but explain I wasn't available. All the board and committee meetings scheduled for that time I had to excuse myself from, and wave off any offers to work around my schedule. Not to mention organising around a black hole of absence for my 10 PhD and Master's thesis students, the 19 students in my 500-level Master's course, and the 38 students in my 300-level course. 

I get responses like 'enjoy your leave!' 'are you having a second honeymoon?' and 'hope you're going somewhere nice!'. 

I feel an urge to correct this misconception. It's fun I suppose, that people assume I'm swanning off the job for some R&R and overseas travel. Lord knows, a lot of people are doing this. Now that the NZ borders are open Rarotonga, Fiji the Gold Coast call those who crave an extension of summer, while most just seek reconnection with whānau overseas. 

Overall though, it's slightly irritating that people think I would cause all this upheaval to the people who rely on me, on the whim of a long holiday. And at the drop of a hat (well, some weeks notice). I certainly don't have the privilege of waltzing off on a trip. 

So how do I respond?

If I didn't say it already, I'm having surgery. Again. With 4 so far, I can claim a history of surgeries. Most have been major ones that take me out for weeks and months, at a time. 

My most recent surgery was just over 2 years ago, to remove a leiomyosarcoma in my IVC. The operation took 9 hours, and I came out of it with 68 staples in the wound.

So, for people who know that I had a cancer removed last time, "it's routine..." is my assurance to them that this is not the big deal that the last one was. 

At the same time, I want people to know that this is significant, "but it's major". A major part of my identity as a woman is being removed. The method of removal is major - a cut across the abdomen. It will take several weeks before the wound is fully healed. I won't be able to drive for weeks, swim or run for months. And who knows what my emotional and wairua state will be like. 

Am I going on holiday? No. Well kinda no. So to most people who assume I am when I say I'll be on leave, I explain I'm having surgery next week. But 'surgery' for me and others in the know, carries an association to my recent brush with a cancerous tumour. So on the one hand not everyone needs to know what's going on for me (not cancer). Nor, on the other hand, do I want people to be concerned or worried about me (not cancer). 

So I find myself in this quagmire around what I tell people, who I tell what. This is a pretty exhausting and invisible part of the equation in preparing for surgery. Especially as, in the scheme of things, 6 weeks is not that long. The sky won't fall in if I'm not back til Matariki has risen. But as academics, we work in highly pressurised environments, inside of very tight timeframes, whether it's in our teaching or research. So a lot can happen in 6 weeks. 

And people can get kind of used to treating you like you'll be a perpetual superwoman, when you've been operating like superwoman for a sustained period of time. This opportunity to take this operation at this time was too good to pass up. May I have permission to also lay aside my superwoman cape for a bit?

So "it's routine, but it's major" is both an assurance, and a plea. Don't worry about me, but don't call me either! I've had enough of work for a while. I'm looking forward to some R&R - rest and recuperation. Mauri ora ki a tātou.