Last week, I got absolutely knocked on my ass.

Choosing between A or B.

Two infections, one through a wound at the bottom of my foot and another in my ankle, all on my left leg, sent me straight to the hospital. The red streaks were climbing from ankle to groin, and I knew better than to wait this one out.

The doctor on call was a straight shooter. She looked at the X-ray and said, “There’s inflammation, but it’s not serious yet. You got here fast. That’s good.”

Then she asked me something most doctors don’t:
“What’s your life like right now? What commitments do you have?

She said to me, “It's great you've been able to recognize that something's going on, you've responded really quickly and got in for treatment really fast.” She went on to say a lot of people will wait and wait and wait. And two weeks down the track, end up with what would be a Sepsis infection.

She saw me. Not just the infection, the woman underneath it, trying to hold everything together.

She said, “I’m a busy mum too. I get it. So I’m giving you two options.”

Option A:

Stay in hospital. Two days of IV antibiotics. Fast, efficient, higher risk of side effects, but we hit the infection hard. You’ll be away from home, from your people, from the chaos and from being needed every five minutes.

Option B:

Go home. Oral antibiotics every four hours, around the clock, for six days. Slower recovery. Might get worse before it gets better. But… you get to be there. In your bed. With your family. Supporting your kids. Keeping the plates spinning.

And what did I choose?

I chose Option B.

Because my brain went straight to:
“What will happen to my husband’s business?” Knowing what his schedule was full and I couldn’t ask him for flexibility.
“We’ve got two grandparents away and one that’s working full-time.”
“I can’t ask Jay to reschedule everything — it’ll mess up the other tradies.”
“Everyone’s already stretched.”

I just thought, Fuck - option one is going to really ruffle some feathers.

So I chose everyone else.

Again.

I thought Option B was the more convenient choice, but what I hadn’t factored in was that my convenience wasn’t part of the equation. I was still shouting instructions from the couch, still trying to soften the impact of my absence by being half-there, half-healing. Because I didn't sit down as well as I should. I drove the car when I wasn't supposed to, I didn't reach out to other people as much as I should have. I spent a good two days on the couch, emotionally worn out and frustrated trying to shout instructions for the kids from the couch. Jay had been amazing but hadn’t sat down for 3 days and was doing all the kids running around for sports and cooking at night. He was exhausted, I could see it on his face. I couldn’t help myself, in true mum style I had to help keep the house in order to lessen his load at night.

And me? I was emotionally wrung out. My option 2 had backfired, the long drawn-out process had actually created stress - a different kind, but stress no less. It’s 11 days now and I’m still not quite right. WTF!

Because I didn’t let myself truly rest.

Here’s the kicker:

Every woman I’ve spoken to since has said the same thing.

“Yeah, I would’ve picked Option B too.”

Why?

Because so many of us are wired to choose disruption for ourselves over inconvenience for others. Even when we’re unwell. Even when it costs us.

And honestly? That makes me sad.

We have this deeply ingrained belief that we have to be everyone’s everything, all the time. Even when our leg is literally inflamed to the point of hospitalisation, because we feel this this massive obligation to be everyone's, everything all the time, regardless of how well or unwell they are.

If I had my time again, I would’ve chosen the IV.
I would’ve stayed in the hospital.
I would’ve chosen the short, sharp pain over the long drawn-out mess.

We would’ve figured it out.
We always figure it out.

But I didn’t.
Because I’ve still got lessons to learn, apparently.

My usual motto of being of service to others, this time, came at the cost of my wellness. I'm still healing, I'm still hobbling. I still have wounds that are getting cared for. Why did I still feel this overwhelming need to push through. So my point is, how many times have you found yourself choosing option B?

So, let my hard-earned lesson be your gentle permission today.

📣 Book the appointment.
📣 Get the lump checked.
📣 Reschedule the meeting.
📣 Say no.
📣 Say yes to the nap, the massage, the peace.
📣 Choose the fast-track IV drip over the drip-feed burnout.

Let my foolish choice be your permission to choose you today! Because Option B? It’s not always the “less disruptive” one.

To book that appointment that you've been meaning to do for ages, to check out that lump that niggles away at the end of the day when you remembered you didn't book an appointment to go. Get that mole check. Get the breast check. Book in for the Pap smear.

Sometimes, choosing you is the choice that holds your entire household together long-term.

And if you see me shuffling along in socks and Crocs, give me a nod and a wink and say it loud:

“I choose me.”

Much love from Gayle (and her socks and crocs.)

Take care everybody and enjoy your week ahead. As always, thank you for reading.