Work Worry

I've decided to call my now year-long work stoppage my "sabbatical." I never wanted to be a professor but was always interested in the idea of a sabbatical, when you could take off a semester or even a year and still have a job when you come back. I think professors need to write a book or do a research paper or something during their time off. I hope to make Cosmos and Chemo a best selling book when I'm finally done, so that might justify my time off. Of course, if I do write a hit book, I'll then have to take another "sabbatical" to sell my book. (I really want to sit next to Matt Lauer on the Today Show and flirt with him like Chelsea Handler does whenever she's selling one of her best selling books!)

I've been out of work for more than a year ... it's more like 14 months. I could have birthed one and a half babies in this time. Sadly, I won't be birthing any babies. This is kind of like my maternity leave. It just isn't coming to an end and I don't have a baby at the end.

I'm so anxious to go back to work. I still watch TV and yell at the television when reporters use poor grammar (not on WGAL of course, but the other stations need a few copies of Strunk and White.) Some of my greatest friends at News 8 have moved on and taken other jobs since I've been out. I can't believe I won't share the newsroom with Matt Belanger and Tom Knier again. It will be a different feel when I go back. I'm so afraid one of the new people will ask me who I am and when I started and treat me like a new employee. I'm sure no one will be rude, but I have fights with new employees in my head - "Who am I?? Who the fuck are you?? I'm goddamn Meredith Jorgensen and I've worked here for a decade." (I will leave out the technicality that this year will be my 10th year at News 8, even though I've only actually worked 9 of them.) No, I would never say that anyone, but that's where my anxiety leads me.

I also had a little anxiety when I got this letter in the mail. It's from Hearst - our parent company. It said "Open Immediately." I panicked. I was afraid it was a pink slip. It was a thin letter, I envisioned just one sheet of paper that said, "Thanks but no thanks. You're out."

 

 

 

Imagine my relief when I opened it up and saw this:

 

 

 

Simply a letter fishing for business. Met Life wanting to sell some Life Insurance. If only they knew how sick I was they would never actually want to sell me life insurance - I'm a bad bet. Plus, my brother-in-law, AJ, works for Met Life - if I needed insurance, I'd go to him, not answer a random letter.

Bottom line, it seems I'm on edge. Anxious to get back to work, nervous that people in the newsroom might think I'm milking this cancer thing, worried that I will lose my competitive edge when I get back on the beat, sad that I'm missing my friends and all the fun newsroom banter. But my goals are clear. First, get better, get cancer-free. Then, and only then, jump back in with both feet, so I can tell other people's story instead of boring you all with mine.