As I mentioned before I was temping at a trade union when I had to stop working – which meant I had absolutely no idea what would happen when I was ready to go back to work.

About 8 weeks after the operation I got a call, another office at the same trade union needed someone.  So I picked myself up, squeezed into a work type outfit and headed off.

Although in many ways it was a fairly easy job; a 20 minute walk to the office, sitting at a desk all day, the truth is that it was too much for me.  It was a big jump from spending the day maybe doing a few gentle exercises at the gym, walking to the shop and sitting on the sofa (occasionally having a nap), and I had to increase my dose of painkillers massively.  Which meant, I was basically stoned all day.  (Let me just reassure you that I didn't go over any recommended doses, but the mental capacity you need to sit on the sofa and watch "Judge Judy" – and yes I did get into this at the time – and the mental capacity you need to be efficient at work are very different things.) 

Also I was in a brand new, very senior office, whereas my last lovely team was three floors away.  If I'd been with them we probably would have spent most of the day catching up and then they'd probably have asked me to alphabetise something.  My new boss was very high up and I was doing lots of correspondence with the House of Commons.  I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised when they said they didn't need me after a couple of days.

Luckily the good thing about temping is that, although you are constantly changing jobs, your agency knows the real deal about you – so they still had confidence in me, and a little while later got me back at the trade union, sadly not in my old office but round the corner so I could stop off for a little chat now and again.

But I still wasn't up to my usual efficiency and, when I decided to go on holiday to Egypt I came back to a "services no longer required" message. 

I guess it did all get to me, the lack of job security. 

Then my agency offered me a temping job with a firm of solicitors who specialised in conveyancing.  I walked into a pokey, grubby office where the piles of cases with little dictation cassettes precariously balanced on the top were in such disorder that I had no idea which was first (and I had to hop over them to get to the desk.)

Back up to my usual speed I whipped through it all and got the office in shape.  The solicitor was so impressed that he offered me a permanent job.  And I took it.  Suddenly the idea of a bit of job security seemed very attractive.

But no matter how hard I worked those piles just didn't seem to disappear.  I was typing flat out, but worse, I had to answer the phone to unhappy customers day after day.  While my boss was out on the golf course his clients would call wanting to know why they hadn't exchanged yet, or what was going on with their deposit.  I learned a lot about conveyancing, but I also learned to be sympathetic as a pensioner cried down the phone to me about losing her new home.  My right shoulder was getting stiffer and stiffer, and I had to see a physio who taught me some exercises, but it wasn't really helping.

One day it all fell apart.  All I knew was that I couldn't stay there.  I walked in to my boss, told him I had a headache and had to go home.  The second I walked out of the door I knew I would never go back.  I called my agency, I was so upset to let them down.  And they said… they were amazed that I had lasted that long, everyone else had quit after three days… and they had some great opportunities if I was interested in something else.

Oh and the pain in my right shoulder disappeared immediately. 

Even my boss was very nice the next day when I called him.  He understood that the job wasn't for me and wished me well.  And of course my only regret was that I hadn't done it sooner.

When you go back to work do try and give yourself as easy a time of it as possible – especially if, unlike me, you have to commute too. 

Just the jostling of the train is a lot to handle, but I also remember, about 3 or 4 months after the operation, being elbowed by a woman sitting next to me on the Tube.  I would have sworn at her but I was too busy sucking in my breath and trying not to puke.  You do have to be very careful of your wound.

Please try to take it easy, see if there are options that would help you work from the comfort of your sofa, or ease back in by going part time.  After all, it’s a much nicer feeling to know that you could do more than you are being asked, than sitting at a desk feeling spacey and incapable (and writing letters to the House of Commons!)