Tea - Sure, Aussies love their coffee (and I'm a fan), but let's not forget the power of a cup of tea! A good brew deserves its time in the spotlight. It must have milk and, depending on the size of your cup, half a teaspoon of sugar to hit the sweet spot. A good cup of tea isn't just a drink—it's a whole experience that can change your day at work. And that is not to be underestimated. Controversial, but tea over coffee. There, I said it.

Being friendly to the HR team—I know HR sometimes has the reputation of being the HR police and is sometimes responsible for those awful, inhuman "we are making you redundant" scripts (do not google it - it’s a dark thread).

I have also seen the flip side of this story. Over the past few years, I've worked exclusively with HR practitioners in consulting and coaching projects. More personally, many fantastic HR professionals helped me manage my return to work during a rough patch when I was unwell. The poor things even had to look at my abdominal medical scans, which, let's face it, once seen, cannot be unseen!

Also, people do terrible things, and some of those people have jobs. Guess who has the pleasure of dealing with their nonsense? Yup, HR. They see, hear, and have to ask about all the terrible stuff we'd rather not know about.

If your HR folks fall into this second camp - maybe it’s time to cut them some slack. Make them a cup of tea (see above), pair it with a Digestive, say thanks, and occasionally give a sympathetic nod.

Talk less, listen, and critique more—there is already a lot of noise and nonsense in the world, which is only increasing as creating content becomes easier and easier and fact-checking becomes less and less. I reckon it's time to hit pause on the need to share every fleeting thought. Instead, embrace the art of listening and critique. Perhaps it's time to back away from hitting "share" or shouting into the social media void. Knee-jerk reactions are out, and research and critical thinking are well and truly in.

Dogs - this has nothing to do with work - but they make life better. I am sure there is research somewhere that explains how, in some way, this makes work better.

Multidisciplinary teams and reflective practice

The idea of multidisciplinary teams has existed for a long time. For too long, however, teams full of fabulous ideas and talents seem to be dominated by the loudest voice in the room, with one person dictating the direction while others (often reluctantly) follow suit. Research also shows that the most dominant voices frequently come from those who align with the prevailing cultural norm, and unsurprisingly, they usually believe they're always right. But there's a better way to harness everyone's strengths.

Enter Team Coaching. This approach brings a genuine understanding of individual skills, roles, and contributions, transforming how teams operate. Team coaching does two things: it focuses on the task (the what) and on team dynamics (the how). If you do one without the other, you might complete the task, but there are usually casualties. And, if you add a dash of Action Learning for reflective practice, you might strike gold. It's also one of my eternal frustrations that this is the work that gets cut when times are tough - which, to my mind, is counterproductive ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Portfolio or Patchwork Careers

Say goodbye to the grind of juggling a full-time job with several full-time side hustles. Work is increasingly about portfolio or patchwork careers—whatever you call them, the idea is the same. People are multi-talented and are finding ways to make a diverse career their mainstay. It's about time we celebrated our varied interests and skills, making them the norm rather than the exception. This is challenging for those organisations that love a pair of golden handcuffs (again, do not Google search - scary results).

OUT

Working on public transport

This one really grinds my gears. Let's be honest - not everyone on the tram needs to see your high-stakes spreadsheet. It's okay - you can take a breather on that 10-minute ride from Southern Cross to Flinders Street Station. Unless you're saving lives (and if you are, I hope it doesn't depend on precision, as I cannot type for crap on a moving tram!), perhaps that email can wait?

And speaking of public etiquette, when exactly did speakerphone business calls become public performance art? There are a bazillion ways to relive Sharon and Trevor's latest office drama without making a tram full of weary commuters listen to it.

It’s a complete tangent, but I am going to sneak it in—hot food on public transport. This has been a big NO for as long as I have used public transport. I am pretty sure it is against the law on the London underground.

A little consideration goes a long way in making the daily grind a little less grindy.

Brutal honesty - We've all had enough of the so-called "brutal honesty" that's just an excuse for dishing out passive-aggressive (or straight-up aggressive-aggressive) feedback. It's time to retire this approach. If your feedback must come with a warning label, it's best kept to yourself, mate. Constructive feedback should build people up, not tear them down. So, let's leave the "brutal" part behind and focus on being genuinely helpful instead.

People who offer feedback all over the place also get under my skin. If I want your feedback, I will ask for it. And I know it can be hard to ask for feedback, but if people aren’t asking you, then that sounds like a you problem.

Influencer beige—look, I'm all for easy dressing and a streamlined work wardrobe. But let's be honest: The endless parade of jeans, white T-shirts, beige jackets, and Adidas sneakers (even though I LOVE my Adidas sneakers) is starting to feel a bit like a uniform. We don't all need to look like we're about to star in a Scandi home decor ad. Let's break out of the beige bubble and embrace some variety.

Timesheets and Tracking Codes - Let's be honest, timesheets are the bane of many employees' existence. Tracking every minute of your workday feels more like a chore than a productive use of time. People never fill them in honestly or accurately, opting to record what they think they should record rather than the hours they actually worked. If they are never accurate, it begs the question - why? And don't get me started on those "secret" codes you receive after mandatory training sessions—codes you must enter to prove you completed the training. This last one gets my goat - it screams, "WE DO NOT TRUST YOU."

Recording training and reporting time in this way undermines the relationship between the organisation and its employees. It's time to rethink how we measure value and contribution at work and acknowledge that trust is a two-way street.

Scary Robot Heads on AI articles and ads

Forget those weird robotic heads that simultaneously promote and scare people about AI. Nope - not about it. Do better comms people/bots.

Cats.

Terrible procurement processes—Procurement often feels like a game where one party only has half the rules. Procurement is not that different from picking the perfect pair of sneakers: know why you need them, set a budget, research, compare, and, if necessary, seek advice. Introducing a third party who holds the rules and stops buyers and sellers from talking to each other doesn't seem like a good solution - it does seem autocratic, ironic and absurd.

What’s missing what would you add?

A simpler start to the day

My morning routines used to be so hectic that I felt like I'd done a full day's work before even getting to the office. I'd set walking targets, drag my reluctant dog Alfie along, listen to something meaningful, and pretend to meditate (I just can't seem to do it!), all while mentally writing my to-do list for the day and dealing with any teenage / school-related things that popped up—usually last minute.

While recovering, I've LOVED slower, simpler mornings—a cup of tea, a walk as far as I want (or as far as Melbourne weather allows), often with headphones on so no one talks to me while I listen to absolutely nothing. I've come to appreciate a simpler routine, doing less but thinking and feeling much clearer as a result. The structure isn't that different (except I've ditched pretending to meditate!), but my approach has definitely changed. I used to think every moment of the day had to be productive. Now? Not so much.

Prioritise relationships

Because my health issues were severe and escalated quickly, it took a lot to wrap my head around going from okay to not okay literally overnight. I cried a lot and in some weird places—think the yoghurt aisle in Coles, walking the dog, various cafes across the city, and even stuck in traffic, panicking that I did not have my medical supplies. Basically, I was a walking, talking soap opera for a while there!

Despite all the tears, I laughed a lot, usually with the same people I cried with. I laughed at myself, people's weird reactions and the Instagram messages people sent me (a lot of 80's aerobics - I don't think my algorithm will ever recover) and in one hilarious What's App thread, a pitch for a podcast exploring stomach, bowel and colon issues - I'll leave you to fill in the blanks on name suggestions. There have been some hilariously awkward moments.

All this to say, people can be the best and the worst.

This whole experience has highlighted how important it is to prioritise relationships that are life-giving. I'm not talking about surrounding myself with perpetually happy people - that would get VERY annoying VERY quickly! It's more about spending time with people who get the whole give-and-take thing about relationships - the ones where we can ride the highs and lows together. I've been guilty of taking these relationships for granted - and I hope not to do that in the future.

Keep a check on my relationship with work

Taking time away from work has given me a new perspective on my relationship with it. One of my values has always been hard work; coming from a working-class family in Yorkshire, I reckon hard work is in my DNA. But I want my relationship with work to evolve. I don't quite know what this looks like, but it might mean taking up my role differently, for example:

• Being more discerning about what I take on and what I say no to.

• Finding ways to reflect and learn in my work - I had forgotten how much I enjoy and need this (thanks to the team and my classmates at Nioda for reminding me of this).

• Looking to different disciplines for inspiration and learning so that I can grow my practice

• Prioritising supporting others to be successful in their roles

• Finding time to walk and think during the day - it’s where I do my clearest thinking - not attached to my lap top.

I also want to acknowledge that I am in a role where I have the freedom to approach my work differently, and again, I do not want to take this for granted.  

Now that I have been completely discharged, I hope this third article is the final one, as I focus on the future with so much gratitude for the medical professionals involved, my beautiful family, friends and of course Alfie.

Alfie, in particular, is looking forward to me returning to work so he can rest from all the walking!

It's been six months—almost to the day—since I was admitted to the hospital for emergency surgery. Life has changed a lot since then, and here are some random things I've learned along the way - in no particular order:

1) People say the weirdest things when they find out I've been ill.

The classic "But you look so healthy!" is my personal favourite. Is it a backhanded compliment about my previous unhealthy look? A subtle nod to some weight loss? Or do they just not believe I was actually ill?

My advice is to stick with something simple like, "I was sorry to hear you've been unwell. It's great you're back at work. Let me know if you need anything as you settle back in", and skip the commentary on appearances.

2) There's a LOT of paperwork to deal with.

The administration seems endless, from hospital discharge notes to return-to-work plans, 25-page insurance claim forms, referrals, test results, appointment booking, mental health assessments, privacy notices, and invoices. It's overwhelming, and I don't fully understand a lot of it! A quick counting exercise shows I've accumulated over 500 pieces of paper, 35+ appointments, worked with at least 30 professionals all in just six months.

If the illness doesn’t get me, the life admin might.

3) And the paperwork I should have, I don't.

For example, I don't have a will. This is bad - the end.

4) It IS possible to look forward to receiving an email.

In the early days, this was related to test results or referrals as part of recovery. Now I realise I was very wrong about this.

The ONLY email to look forward to dropping into the inbox is Nick Cave's Red Hand Files. If you haven't subscribed yet, you definitely should.

Each one is chefs kiss emoji.

5) People have a strong opinion about my decision to quit alcohol, and they are not afraid to share it.
After surgery, to support my recovery, I decided to give up alcohol altogether. I am not a big drinker so this was not a significant sacrifice, but apparently, my choice to not drink alcohol seems to really challenge some people. I thought culturally, we might have moved beyond this now, but apparently not.

6) I find myself saying sorry ALL the time.

It's my default response to almost everything. I know the word sorry is complex and often gendered. In this context, I am usually apologising for my health inconveniencing another person (sorry I work part time, sorry I have been away for a while etc). But seriously, why am I apologising for things entirely out of my control? Especially when the person most inconvenienced by all of this is me.

7) Oversharing the health horror stories.

When I talk with people about health stuff, it's like I've opened up a storytelling session at the "Health Horror Stories Club." It's like a competition for the most gruesome story. Knowing what happened to your neighbours, aunts, granny in a hospital in Bristol seven years ago is… well…at best unhelpful. Please make it stop.

8) I have the best friends and family.

My friends and family have come through for me in a major way over the last six months. They have rescued me from awkward situations, they have laughed with me at the weird stuff that has happened, they have walked, talked, sent silly Instagram messages, drunk coffee and eaten pastries with me. I already knew I had the best folks around me - but it great to re-know this all over again.

I am preparing for what will hopefully be my final surgery in July. I'll keep you posted about any other lessons along the way ;-)

Sadly, for me it turned out, I was in the 5% - no two-hour keyhole surgery and two-week recovery for me. Instead, I underwent a 5-hour open surgery with at least a 6 - 8 week recovery, a pretty spectacular scar to show for it and further surgery planned for later this year. 

The purpose of this post is not to share my medical story but rather to share my reflections and learnings. As you can imagine, it has been a wild and shocking ride going from someone with a tummy ache to having a hidden disability literally overnight. 

Emotional recovery has been much more challenging than physical recovery

Three days post-op, I began to understand precisely what had happened to me and how life would be very different from now on. In the hospital, surrounded by experts, the changes seemed very manageable, and with the support of my family, faith and close friends, I confidently thought, "I got this".

I did not "got this". 

I only cried once in the hospital, but when I was home, I cried because I could not get dressed, wash my hair, or get in and out of bed without help (I am all good on those things now!). Well-meaning visitors would tell me how lucky I was, that if I had waited much longer to go to the hospital, things could have been much more serious - and on one level they were right.

However, I did not feel lucky. I felt like everything had been turned upside down and, some days, was hanging on by a thread. 

Thankfully, I have a fabulous GP who spent just as much time talking about my mental health as she did my physical recovery. She referred me to a psychologist who has been bloody terrific. There is something about these circumstances and even our closest relationships that invites being a good patient. When faced with medical experts and loved ones with good intentions I found it hard to advocate for myself - being obedient and grateful became the norm - rather than saying how I really felt - often sad, scared and wondering what next.

All I can say is that for me, playing good patient didn't pay off. Having a space where I can just say things with no consequences and laugh at the ridiculousness of things in ways that can be hard with family and friends so I don’t offend their feelings has been a tremendous blessing.

It has been my first time working with a psychologist, and if I can, I will keep the relationship going as a way of maintaining my mental health as well as dealing with the odd curve ball that is bound to come.  

Good health practitioners are worth their weight in gold

From the hospital’s check-in staff, triage nurses, on-call doctors, nurses, surgeons, specialist nurses, nutritionists, pain med teams, physios, and support staff, they were mostly brilliant. Everyone did their job, but the small things mattered most to me. Every nurse gave me pain medications at the right time, updated my records, and completed other technical medical tasks. However, almost all went above and beyond to ensure I was comfortable, fresh water was on hand, and on-call buttons were within reach before they left my room. They got to know my family and brought light to the darkest days. Nursing is a highly technical and specialised job, and it's not lost on me that nursing is also emotional labour. Having been a patient and seen nurses at work, it is no surprise that many nurses are leaving the profession. Nursing is inherently linked to patient outcomes and so recruiting, supporting and keeping nurses in the workforce seem like urgent questions to answer. I recently saw Adam Kay from This is Going to Hurt fame, he encouraged everyone in the audience to check in on the medical professionals in their lives, and, do it regularly because they are bound to keep saying they are fine. My experience was that the nurses did a terrific job.

All but one surgeon and doctor on rounds knew my case history and gave me time to ask the questions my medication fuddled brain could conjure. The one doctor who rocked up with the flashy smile and "I prefer it if patients tell me in their own words what happened", I see you, bro, and I know you didn't read my notes and was winging it.

Having been in the ICU for two weeks, I also know how busy you are and fully understand you might not have had time to read them. My advice is that honesty is always your best policy. Don't try to charm your way through - it just meant I didn't trust you and trust is important at times of experiencing vulnerability.

A massive shout-out also needs to go to my GP. When I turned up to an appointment, she had no idea what was about to land in her lap. I was crying so hard that my husband had to do all of the talking, and in 20 minutes, she picked up pain management, wound management, physiotherapy and booked me in for a more extended mental health chat. She helped broker my return to work and is helping me to prepare for the next surgery. One word - legend.

I went from seeing her for the odd cold and chest infection to being on first-name terms, and it has been a little bit of a mind meld for me. Coming from the UK, our culture is to avoid the doctor and protect the NHS's precious resources - I am starting to understand and appreciate the value of having a relationship with my GP and how it can benefit my health longer term.   

Hidden disability is confusing 

I want to be self-aware as I write about this. I am ten plus weeks into living with this label, and many other people are more experienced and better equipped to discuss the nuances than me and have much more complicated situations to manage.

On the other hand, my experiences are my experiences. I am sure they will continue to evolve and I want to understand and learn more about living with disability in Australia.

Firstly, I have found coming to terms with that label hard and have resisted it. I don't think of myself in these terms and I don’t want that narrative to dominate my life (my psychologist calls this post-traumatic growth!).

Then, there are times when the label is beneficial—for example, asking for the disabled toilets to be unlocked in a department store. Goodness knows why they are locked, but they often are. Either way, I resent having to ask or explain myself to use a bathroom, sit on seat on a a train or tram and more.

Someone also mentioned the Sunflower Lanyard and pin badge that can be worn to help others know I have a hidden disability. It's like the London Underground "Baby on Board" badges, that, ironically, I thought was a fabulous idea back in the day. But I do not want to wear a sunflower lanyard, badge, pin or anything else.

I don't fully understand my response to it. Partly, it is a "no one else's business" thing; it's also the designer in me thinking the world should be more equitable, and then I wouldn't need to ask for a key to the toilet in the first place. Plus, I feel incredibly guilty about the bazillion times I have not considered a person might have a hidden disability now I have experienced it myself. Throw a big bundle of denial into the mix and life can feel overwhelming.

The upshot is that it's all a bit confusing and I am trying to give myself some space and grace to think it through and land somewhere more comfortable for me. I am super keen to hear from others further on in this journey - if that’s you leave a comment :-)

Send the text, make the call, write the card or whatever

My emergency surgery happened on a Sunday, and it took until Monday afternoon for those nearest and dearest to me in Australia and the UK to find out what had happened. Then, of course, the news starts to spread a little further. On Tuesday morning the first bunch of flowers arrived. By Wednesday, there were four more, plus lots of text messages, get well cards, meals cooked for my family, gifts of book vouchers, beautiful hand cream, homegrown lemons and passion fruits, Uber Eats vouchers, phone calls (that I often did not answer but appreciated) and visits.

When it felt like my world was crashing down and I was alone in ICU for two weeks with just a handful of visitors, every single one of those contacts meant so much. I could not respond to all of them, but that did not mean I did not value everyone of them. My emotions swung from being "can people leave me alone to recover?" to spiralling into "my life is falling apart and no-one cares". Seeing the cards, the flowers, and the text messages slowed down that spiral - a lot. 

If you are wondering whether to contact someone who is sick, grieving, or both, - I found it immensely helpful, comforting, and a great reminder of just how wonderful the people in my life are, and how grateful I am to have them.

I've learnt what a good leader and employer looks like in cases like this

Management consulting firms have had their fair share of bad press - some of it justified. My experience in these circumstances - has been excellent. From the moment my leadership team learned about what happened to me they have emphasised getting well rather than returning to work.

I have had one HR point of contact who has kept in touch just enough, and she has worked with me and my GP to develop a manageable return to work plan before I go off and have another surgery. 

I have also missed my colleagues and clients - and have been able to use some "keep in touch" time to stay connected and have really appreciated how messages have stayed away from the detail of work and focussed on our relationship and some of the fun work chit chat stuff. Being off work for nearly four months (including the Christmas Holidays) can make returning to work seem challenging and intimidating but light regular contact has made a world of difference. 

I have worked for some great small and mid-sized organisations but my family and I are grateful everyday for the way EY has supported me through this time. I am certain this would not have been the case at any of my previous employers. At least one of them didn’t even have an HR person to speak of let alone a process for managing this sort of situation, perhaps, sometimes size does matter.   

What happens next?

For those interested in what happens next, I have recently had some positive test results and another surgery planned for either late June or early July. If all goes well - recovery will be one week in the hospital and another 4 - 6 weeks at home, meaning that this whole adventure will have taken 9 months from start to finish. I have returned to work part time this week and am looking forward to thinking about other things for a while.

If you have sent me a message, email or given a phone call that I have not returned I hope this goes someway to explaining what has been happening. Thank you to my friends, family, colleagues and clients who have been so understanding. I am sure there will be more reflections so please subscribe if you are interested in accompanying me along the way.

Kx