I told my boss for months that I needed gallbladder surgery. The day before it, she asked me to delay because we were understaffed. When I refused, she told me to work from home and got angry when I turned on my out-of-office reply. She called me dramatic and said others work after “minor procedures.” It wasn’t minor—I’d had months of pain and ER visits. I’d submitted doctor’s notes and leave forms. None of it mattered.
She said if I insisted on surgery, I should at least answer quick emails. I said I’d be under anesthesia. She warned me not to expect the team to “hold everything together.” After six years of loyalty, I felt guilty for being sick.
The surgery went well, and the doctor said waiting longer could’ve caused complications. When I woke up, I had missed calls and urgent emails from her. I ignored them. Days later, she still pushed for small tasks. No concern—just a thumbs-up emoji when I reminded her I was on medical leave.
When I returned, she implied I wasn’t a team player. A coworker told me she’d tried to access my files during my surgery but was blocked because I’d updated my passwords earlier. IT refused her emergency access. Soon after, HR called me in—coworkers had reported her for pressuring people to work through medical leave. I shared my saved messages.
Weeks later, she was removed from management. Our new manager supported boundaries and checked on my recovery. Ironically, the team performed even better while I was gone, proving the company didn’t fall apart without me.
Months later, I got a better job with higher pay and real work-life balance. On my last day, a coworker thanked me “for going to surgery.” If I had delayed it, I would’ve reinforced the idea that work comes first.
The company survived. I healed.
The hardest part wasn’t surgery—it was disappointing my boss. But jobs replace you. Your health doesn’t. Choosing yourself isn’t selfish. It’s necessary.