When I had the full responsibility of being a teacher on my head, with 27 teaching periods per week, clubs and societies to handle, sports, ad hoc committees etc, I longed for a break. The weekends were life saviors, and I detested working Saturdays, which at times, we had 3 in a month.
After 5 weeks of rest for the mastectomy, I wanted to return to work. It wouldn't be bad as I'm still in the 'pool' for teachers with chronic illnesses, which means I don't have to do anything but turn up for school and be the envy of every other stressed out, sweaty, on-the-verge-of-a nervous-breakdown teachers. But being the considerable person that I am I always asked for classes to teach, although I gladly refused any co-curricular activities that would require me to come early or stay back later.
In 2006, when I was first dumped in the pool, I taught 15 hours a week. Then in 2007, I taught 15 hours of English and 3 hours of something else I couldn't remember. In 2008 I had 15 hours of English and 10 hours of ICTL. Once I was diagnosed again, all the hours were taken away, but the administration has been so wonderful that they let me take back 2 of my English classes if I ever decided to come and teach.
For the first 3 days, I went home vomiting...everything. I was breathless and tired that even lying down didn't help. But still I pushed myself to do this because I needed the mental stimulation. By the fourth day I was feeling better, especially once my brain had started focusing on the work at hand rather than the deteriorating condition of my physical body. But I'm still breathless. Often times I have to consciously control my breathing the Qi-Cong way and visualize the O2 passing through every fiber of my being and straight to my unborn baby. 10 years ago, breathing was something I took for granted.
Anyway, I'm enjoying school now, as much as I can. Although the students piss me off at times, they are also a source of pleasure and for now, one of the keys to my survival...