Morning Thoughts: Healing

 

I sometimes think about all those Regency era stories I've read and seen in which British nobles go to the country to recover from various things, not for a day or a weekend, or even a couple weeks, but for a month or more (maybe much more). Then I think about the way our modern workforce has relatively little tolerance for taking so much as a single shift off to deal with anything from illness to medical procedures to bereavement. You're entitled to a handful of hours off each year, but you are praised and sometimes financially compensated for not using them. If you're sick, you're expected back the moment you are no longer technically ill. If you're going to a funeral for a loved one, you may not even get the whole day off. If you're giving birth, you get some time off, but it's often given reluctantly, and it's not enough to truly recover. 

That's where my thoughts always land. In few if any of these circumstances are we given enough to time to heal from things, just time to recover enough that we're technically capable of carrying on with our work without being a distraction to others. I don't know how much there is to admire in the aristocratic structures of Great Britain, but they do seem to have understood at least one thing:

Healing takes energy and time beyond the repair of the immediate ill.

For instance, I'm no stranger to injury, or to long recoveries. Last summer I injured my hamstring. For a few weeks, walking was extremely painful, and I had massive bruising on the underside of my leg. But even after the bruise and the pain were gone, I wasn't finished healing. My leg was stiff, and needed exercise to get its mobility back. Once that was accomplished, I still wasn't finished healing. All of that recovery had sapped my body of its strength. I could no longer point to any specific disability, but I was tired. Like a Starfleet captain under Klingon attack, I had diverted power from non-critical systems to support the needs of the situation, and that power needed to be restored. My systems needed rebuilding. 

This is the sort of thing modern life doesn't really allow for. Once your fever breaks, you're better and you should get back to work. If the painkillers make it possible to ignore the hurting, you're fine and should be about your business as normal. After the formalities of laying your loved one to rest, your grief should also be laid down, and you should get back to your ordinary life.  The baby was delivered and you're home from the hospital? The procedure was a success? How soon will you be back in the office? Just make sure it's not longer than your paid leave, or there will be consequences. Even just a weekend is not generally restful enough or even long enough to recover from the extreme hustle of the week. It has business of its own to attend to. 

A lot of times, I find myself wishing I were some wealthy, landed British lord who could leave my business in the hands of stewards (poor saps who don't have that same privilege), and decide to take a month or two relaxing in the country for no other reason than that I'm tired or sad, and then come back when I'm good and ready and have no one so much as blink at it. Maybe the idea is purely fictional, but I want that to be an OK thing to do. 

Anyway, that's what I've been thinking about this morning.