About 18 years ago I had my first official diagnosis with mental illness. Things had gotten pretty out of control and an ambulance was called to come and take me away from work. Ann arrived at the ER with Alex and Nick in tow. They would have been around 4 and 2, respectively.
But I was tough.
I took a few days off and bright and early Monday morning I was back in the store, anxious to get caught up. My boss called, expecting to get my assistant manager, and seemed shocked that I answered instead.
She let me know I couldn’t come back without a doctor’s release. I assured her it was merely a formality and that I would call the doctor right away and get the necessary paperwork.
I was dumbfounded when the doctor’s response to my call was “But I haven’t released you to go back to work.”