It’s been ten days since I came out of hospital, and I feel like a new woman - well, maybe not brand-new, but definitely an upgraded version of the old one. Sure, I still have a few glitches in this system of mine, but overall, I’m functioning pretty well.

On Monday, I had my check-up, and the doctor told me I was healing faster than expected… and that I could drive again. I could’ve hugged him. I was so chuffed. It’s funny how you don’t realise what you’ve been missing until it’s suddenly taken away.

Gratitude for the NHS

And a quick side note - my consultant, Dr. Fabio, was so good. You can always tell when someone genuinely cares about what they do. I feel lucky to have had him looking after me.

To be honest, I feel incredibly grateful for the NHS. Yes, it’s underfunded, yes, it’s overstretched, but my experience - from seeing my GP, to A&E, to surgery, to recovery - was genuinely amazing. The nurses and staff were brilliant. We're lucky in the UK. If I lived in the US, I’d probably be flogging half my belongings on Vinted (and maybe a kidney) just to cover the bill.

Have you seen that story doing the rounds on social media? While I was waiting in A&E, an Instagram post popped up about a 91-year-old woman in the U.S. who was arrested for stealing medication for her husband because she couldn’t afford it - the price had jumped from $50 to $950. The judge apparently said, “Take these chains off her. This is not a criminal. This is a failure of the system.”

Apparently that story is made up - which, honestly, doesn’t surprise me because who knows what’s real on social media anymore - but it still made me think. We are incredibly lucky to have free healthcare when so many people don’t.

My Big Return to Work 

On Tuesday, I had my first client meeting since leaving hospital. It lasted two and a half hours, and I actually felt okay - until I stood up. I went completely lightheaded, and the receptionist told me I looked pale. Brilliant.

My blood pressure had been low throughout my hospital stay, and the nurses kept telling me to drink more water. So after the meeting, I sat in my office downing a pint of water and trying to feel normal again. To be honest, it was frustrating. I’d only done one meeting, and I felt totally drained.

On Thursday, I had three meetings and was slightly terrified, but I actually made it through all of them. My last client told me I looked “tired and drained”… which, is fair enough. I definitely don’t have my full energy back yet, and I need to rest a lot more. But hey, I’m getting there!

I can tell I’m not 100% yet. I’ve been trying to get some exercise in, but taking it slow. The doctor has me on walking only - no swimming, cycling, or running for another three weeks. On Friday I managed a faster walk, then on Saturday I did a very gentle spin session. My heart rate shot up at the smallest effort, and my body was basically like, “Sarah… absolutely not. Get off the bike.”

A Perspective Shift

One of the clients whose meeting I had to reschedule said, “The best thing about being unwell is how good it feels when you start to get better.” And it’s true. You notice everything more. You appreciate everything more, even boring stuff, like being able to go for a walk without feeling dizzy halfway through.

Being in hospital is like being in a bubble where time doesn’t exist. Everything outside keeps moving, and you’re just… in bed, attached to various tubes, contemplating life. It weirdly made me realise how small I am in the big picture. Not in a sad way, just in a “wow, the universe is huge and I really am just a tiny dot” way.

But that tiny dot still gets to make meaning. I have my people. My little world. My short window of time on this planet. And I just want to spend it doing what I love, being me, and hopefully building something that matters - something that makes a positive difference, even if it’s small.

I feel happier now. Lighter. Less serious. Less worried about what other people think. More aware that life is short, and I want to fill it with as much love, kindness, joy… and a generous helping of weirdness (because, let’s face it, I am a bit weird)… while I’m here.

The Anxiety I Didn't Realise I Was Carrying

Before all this, I was putting so much pressure on myself - trying to grow the business as much and as sustainably as possible, trying to make sure my family had everything they needed, trying to be “the responsible one” because Luke’s not working right now and we’ve got two kids depending on us.

I never admitted it, but I had this underlying fear that if I stopped - if I got sick, which is ironic now - everything would fall apart. So I pushed myself. Hard. I absorbed all the “work harder, sacrifice everything, no weekends, no excuses” advice floating around on social media. Alex Hormozi would’ve been proud.

It worked, yes - the business has grown, it’s more profitable - but it drained the life out of me. And since coming out of hospital, I’ve realised… that’s not the kind of success I want. 

I want to do things my way. Listen to myself more. Follow a pace that doesn’t leave me drained and frustrated. Jessie has helped me with that, and so has this whole experience. Life is short, and I don’t want to sprint through it like it’s a race. I want to walk - literally, for now - and really enjoy the moments with the people who matter. I want to build something meaningful without losing myself, my sanity, or my sense of humour and fun along the way.

Maybe There’s Always Some Good Hidden in the Hard Stuff