It had been a busy few days. On Sunday 29th May 2012 I played 18 holes of golf in my local club. Making 5 pars in row from the 12th to 16th hole off a handicap of 15 was a first for me. It felt good. Really good. At work the next day we were preparing for a Board meeting and along with the Chief Executive and Chief Financial Officer, we set about finalizing the papers for the meeting on Wednesday. I took notes on what I need to do and all seemed ok. That meeting finished about 1pm and we agreed to meet again in the morning to complete final bits and pieces.
On Tuesday we got together again. But now something was wrong. When I was asked if I had sorted the few matters from the day before, I was lost. I had no recollection of what I was supposed to have done. For the first time in my life I was lost for words. “But you took notes” I was reminded. I opened my notebook and sure enough there they were. Three things I was to follow up on. All marked urgent. And I hadn’t done any of them. I would do them straight away and we quickly finished up the rest of the agenda and I set about putting things right. I was bothered but with a Board meeting the next day there wasn’t much time for trying to figure it all out.
Wednesday’s Board meeting was important for me as I had a number of proposals to put forward for my area and I needed both the support of the Board and approval to increase spend. I got both. I was very happy with my contribution and the result. We had a good lunch after the meeting and later in the afternoon, the Chief Executive complimented me on a good days work. He was very pleased with the meeting, the outcomes and in particular my own performance. We finished up about 6.30pm and I headed home for a quiet evening and a good nights sleep. Little did I know that after 15 wonderful years in that job, I would never work there again.
On Thursday morning 3rd May, I wasn’t able to get out of bed. Physically and mentally I was shattered. I had reached “rock bottom” and I didn’t see it coming. Yes, there were signals that all was not quite right. I had been to my GP a few times in the previous months . He referred me on to a rheumatologist. She diagnosed Polymyalgia but felt there may be other factors so she sent me to hospital for three days of tests. My father (92) died a week before my tests.