Highway out of Hell

Well, I am now embarking on a new path in my Workers Comp nightmare and I anxiously hope the grass will finally stop its endless wilt and die phase and finally lay a fresh cut, golf green turf for me to childishly play. I am officially returning to work. I’d jump for joy if it weren’t such a precarious march toward an undetermined end. I won’t be capable to handle my original position due to the strenuous physical requirements, so I have no idea what lovely surprises my employer will cast my way. Soon, I will be an independent, normal human being again. No spying insurance agents looking to catch me functioning in a manner that is not consistent with my injuries, nor a sick desperation each time my check doesn’t arrive on schedule. The end of hell is near and I am so utterly emotionally exhausted from this nasty relentless game that the sigh I will release may drop me as a faint would an overly clad and tightened corseted woman from the pre 1900’s.