I spend two nights in the hospital and four more weeks recuperating at home, during which I come to more than a few realizations about how I’m spending my time and how I’d like to spend it in the future. I’m choosing to view the events of the last few months as a wake up call. Things could have been so much worse, and I’m grateful that they weren’t -- that all I had was a benign meningioma that was easily removed through surgery and isn’t expected to recur, and that full function was restored to my arm and hand almost immediately once it was gone. I have to sit out my wheelchair softball league this year, but that seems a small price to pay.

I feel lucky. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance, and I don’t want to waste it. One thing I know for sure is that I don’t want to spend almost all of my waking hours stressing out about work. Not anymore.

I’m thankful for everything my job has given me over the years, and every single opportunity that’s come my way as a result of it, either directly or indirectly. I’m thankful for the connections I’ve made through it -- most especially meeting Adam after I moved to New York, and getting to know Brian after he started working on our marketing campaigns, then Justin by extension -- and I’m thankful that my job has made it possible for my family and I to live comfortably over the years. And even though it was harder than I would have liked for it to be to get the time off I needed for my recovery, I’m still grateful to have a job that offers paid medical leave, so my family and I won’t have to wonder how we’re going to make ends meet. But I’m thinking it might be time for a change.

My job gave me my life back many years ago, but now it’s time for me to take my life back from my job, which has consumed far more of my time and energy than I want to admit over the past several months. I can’t turn back the clock and change what’s in the past, but I can change what happens from here on out, and that’s why I’m meeting Brian for lunch today at our favorite cafe.

“Ah, looking a little less like Frankenstein every time I see you.” I hear Brian’s voice from behind me as he comes into the cafe, and I know he’s talking about the scar on the back of my neck, which, from the way he’s talked about it, sounds a whole lot worse than it actually is. But that's Brian -- vain to the core, and I'm pretty sure he always will be. “Sorry I'm late,” he says. “Conference call ran long. Anyway, how are you? Do you feel like you've broken out of prison?”

I laugh, because I kind of do. I haven't really been out of the house, save for doctor's appointments, very much at all in the last month, and I haven't left Brooklyn at all until now. Although it's been nice to just rest and spend time with Adam and the girls, I'm ready to re-enter the world. My recovery is going well, and I'm scheduled to start physical therapy next week to resolve any lingering weakness, so I can finally put this whole thing behind me.

“I'm fine,” I answer him. “Couldn't be better. I do have a question for you though.”

“Don't tell me you've finally decided to ask me for some fashion advice.” Brian smirks and looks me up and down, at my sensible plaid button-up shirt and khakis.

“What's wrong with the way I dress?” I say, pretending to be offended.

“How long do you have, and how much detail would you like me to go into?”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, thankful I can do that now without pain. “That's not what I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay, what then? Sex advice? Because I'm not really sure that's good lunchtime conversation. At least, not in public.”

I laugh and I think about how much I missed these lunches with Brian, and how thankful I am that he and I crossed paths. He's become a really good friend, particularly in the last couple of years. “I wanted to ask you if you were serious when you said you wanted me to come work for you.”

Brian just looks at me for a moment and cocks his head slightly to the side, studying me, a confused look on his face. “Don't tell me they fired you. I really will help you sue their asses. You'll own that damn company when I get through with them.”

“No, no… it's not that. I just…” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, already feeling the full weight of what I'm about to say. “I think I'm ready to move on to something else. So if your offer still stands…”

I halfway expect Brian to make a joke, but he doesn't. He just nods at me and says, “Absolutely. I'd love to have you at Kinnetik. And I have to say your timing is perfect, because there's this company I have an investment in…”

He tells me all about what's been going on at GoodLife Robotics, namely that they've been looking for some serious investors to help them step up to the next level, and Brian has been thinking about getting more involved, but any more significant investment from him would give him a controlling interest in the company. He's fine with laying out the money, but he's the first to admit he doesn't know a whole lot about what they do. Me, on the other hand… let's just say it's exactly what I've been doing for the past 23 years.

“So, if you'd like to head up this project, I'll call Ted when I get back to the office and tell him to make it happen.” He smiles, and I can see that mischievous twinkle in his eye that he gets when he's really excited about something.

And I have to admit, I'm excited, too

I stick my hand out across the table, and we shake on it, exactly the way we have for all of the business deals we've made over the years between his company and mine. But this one is different -- this one represents a new beginning. Both of us on the same side of the table from now on, working together.

I put in my two weeks’ notice the day I return to the office, and to say everyone is surprised would be the understatement of the century. But they all wish me well -- some sincerely and some begrudgingly -- and I work my two 40-hour weeks and then pack up my office and go home, relieved to know that I will never have to bust my ass for someone who doesn't really appreciate my efforts ever again. I'm starting off at the top at Kinnetik, and the only person over me will be Brian, who has already promised me full control over my schedule as well as access to anything else I need so that my health and my sanity always take precedence over business.

I know he's learned that lesson too -- the hard way.

I take a week off in between my last day at my old job and my first day at Kinnetik, and I devote that time to my family -- making up for lost time, I suppose. We spend most of that week playing tourist in New York -- taking a tour of Central Park, seeing “Wicked” on Broadway, spending a day at Coney Island, and checking out the New York Aquarium, among other things. I find myself savoring every moment I have with my husband and our children, with an appreciation I’m not sure I had before.

I love seeing the smiles on the girls’ faces -- the wonder in their eyes, and the innocence. They’re both getting older, and I wish there was something I could do to slow time down just so I’d have more time to appreciate them while they’re still young, but I know I can’t. That’s why I have to be sure I make the most of my time, and prioritize the right things.

It’s also nice to be able to spend as much time as I want just sitting with Adam, our arms around each other in one small part of the physical manifestation of the love we have for each other -- the love and the life we’ve spent fifteen years building. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more grateful to have him by my side, and this experience, while not exactly one I’d like to repeat, has brought us much closer.

I finally make it back to yoga, too -- another thing I need for my health and sanity -- and I realize that although I lost my practice for awhile, which definitely wasn't the best thing I could have done for myself, I'm pretty sure that in the end, my time away has made my practice even deeper and more meaningful. Much like the rest of my life, I suppose.

I thought I had a good handle on life before. I felt like I appreciated everything I had, and I prided myself on being able to keep a pretty positive outlook. But one thing this experience has shown me is that I also had a lot of things I took for granted, and I’ve made a promise to myself that I’m not going to do that again. I’m taking my second chance and running with it.

And that’s exactly what I plan to do at Kinnetik as well.

It feels strange to come out of the subway and go left instead of right, but at the same time, it feels like I’m turning the page. This is a new beginning for me -- a fresh start. Maybe this is my mid-life crisis. And if it is, I’ll take it, because I really feel like I’ve come out on top. (And maybe I’ll buy myself a convertible later, just as a reward for making it through.)

I say hello to the receptionist at the desk in the lobby of the building that houses my new office, and I’m already looking forward to getting to know her, along with all of my new coworkers. When I get up to the seventh floor, part of which Brian has leased to become the new space for GoodLife Robotics -- soon to be called Kinnected -- I turn the corner to go into my new office, and I find Brian sitting by my new desk.

“Welcome to the company,” he says, at first with a handshake, which he uses to pull me into a hug.

He already has me set up with a new laptop -- because he knows I’ll want to be mobile, so I can try to figure people out while I work, he says with a smirk -- and I’ve got my own electric tea kettle and a stash of at least a dozen different flavors of tea. No more going down the hall to the break room, because I’ve got it all right here. And that extends to more than just the tea. As I look around the room, at the designer furniture that I know Brian likely picked out by hand, and at my friend, who is looking at me with raised eyebrows and his lips pulled into his mouth, like he’s waiting to find out what I think, I realize that I truly do have it all.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Here’s to the happy ending.