A Few Thoughts After Returning to Work

February marked my return to work after my second microdiscectomy in two years.

I won’t sugar-coat it. It’s been tough.

Coming back part-time has been the right decision, but it has still been humbling. I’ve done the rehab. I’ve followed the advice. I’ve applied the same principles I talk about every day with patients. And even then, some days have felt heavier than I expected.

One thing this whole experience has reinforced for me is just how different pain feels when it’s yours.

When you’re the practitioner, you can analyse it. You can break it down. You can explain healing timelines and tissue physiology. But when you’re the one lying awake at night because your leg is aching or your back feels tight again, it becomes very human very quickly.

There’s vulnerability in that.

Lying on the trolley before surgery, you’re not an osteopath. You’re not the clinic director. You’re just a person hoping the procedure goes well and that you’ll get your life back. That perspective stays with you.

I think it has changed how I listen.

When someone tells me they’re nervous about bending, or worried they’ll “slip a disc again”, or frustrated that progress isn’t fast enough, I genuinely understand that in a different way now.

Another thing I’ve been reminded of is that knowing what to do is not the same as doing it consistently.

Rehab is not glamorous. It’s repetitive. It’s disciplined. It’s turning up to do the basics when you’d rather skip them. It’s backing off when your ego tells you to push. It’s accepting that you’re rebuilding, not proving something.

And yes, ego creeps in. I’ve written before about ego and injuries, and I’ve had to confront that in myself again. The quiet voice that says, “You should be better than this by now.” The temptation to test things just to see if you can.

Twice now my body has reminded me that biology doesn’t care about pride.

There have been flare-ups. There have been flat days. There have been moments where I’ve questioned how long the road back will take.

But there’s a line from Rocky that keeps coming back to me. It’s not about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.

That feels more relevant to recovery than any rehab protocol.

It’s not dramatic. It’s not heroic. It’s just steady. You take the hit, you reassess, you adjust, and you keep going.

Coming back part-time has also forced me to respect the fact that I’m human. I can’t just override fatigue or irritation because I want to. I can’t will tissues to heal faster. I can only control what I do each day.

For patients reading this, if you’re navigating injury or surgery yourself, I’d say this:

Healing is rarely linear.
Setbacks are not the same as failure.
Consistency matters more than intensity.
Your mindset genuinely influences your experience of pain.

And importantly, you’re not weak for finding it hard.

For colleagues, there’s something confronting about being injured when your body is your tool. It shakes identity a bit. But it also deepens empathy. It sharpens patience. It reminds you that we’re not above the principles we teach.

I’m back. I’m working part-time. I’m rebuilding carefully.

I’m doing the exercises.
I’m respecting the process.
I’m staying positive without pretending everything is perfect.

And if there’s one thing this journey keeps teaching me, it’s this: you don’t have to be invincible. You just have to keep getting back up.

Stuart

For fellow practitioners

Being injured as a clinician is confronting. Your body is your tool. When it struggles, it can feel like more than just a physical issue.

What I have gained from this experience is deeper empathy, more patience, and greater respect for the basics.

You do not have to be invincible to be effective. You simply have to be honest, disciplined, and willing to keep rebuilding.

This journey is ongoing. Rehab continues. Strength continues. Learning continues.

And I am grateful to be back, even if it is one measured step at a time.

Stuart