The call came through late Monday afternoon; bad beginning to a bad week.

A back injury going ‘south’.  

The worker in question had been on modified duties. His manager and I had put together some alternate duties, less repetitive with less manual handling. A break from his normal job to help his niggling back settle down. He’d had a few physio sessions (in-house) and they’d worked a treat. All signs were looking good for a quick recovery and a return to normal duties.

Then the call. He’s gone home, hurt his back. There were the usual questions. How did it happen? What was he doing at the time? How could he have hurt himself when everyone (including him) had worked so hard to achieve the opposite?

Slowly I pieced together what went wrong. His manager was away. One of the guys had needed help lifting something, and he’d helped.

By now, way past five, I rang him at home. He couldn’t come to the phone, had taken pain killers and was having a lie down. Not a good sign. The next day I rang again. And so it unfolded, the post injury merry-go-round; investigating what went wrong, talking him through the processes, trying to get him thinking about returning to work again. And he’s in pain. He knows what he did was wrong, but he wanted to help, didn’t stop to think. He knows there’s been damage done, doesn’t know how much yet, feels a bit stupid, a bit scared.

What can I say to him after that? I comfort, I empathise, I encourage and am patient, and all the while I’m thinking why do people never learn?

And therein lies the problem. There are so many things that go into making us human. We’re all of us products of our own life experiences, our insecurities and failings and sometimes even our strengths - in this case a kind heart who went to help out a workmate without stopping to think of the consequences. And that’s all it takes sometimes. No matter how much training and education you give your workers it sometimes comes down to the human factor, to one mistake.

My injured worker will need time off. He’ll need weeks of treatment and restricted duties, but I think he’ll be okay. He has a great attitude and that’s a huge plus when it comes to recovery and return to work. It will probably be a long road for him to get back to normal work though, and there will be set-backs and frustrations along the way (for both of us).

He will never again lift something without testing it first or questioning whether there might not be another way. And I suspect he’ll also become a great advocate for safety at work, the voice of wisdom among his mates.  

Reflecting on this case, I realised by weeks end it’s more often the challenging ones that motivate me to do the job I do. I’d helped him through the flare-up. He knows he has my ongoing support and so does his manager.  So maybe not such a bad week after all.