Good luck Muuk. Would it help you think of yourself as a car having a sump oil change. I'd probably try to imagine it like that. I find it helps in stressful situations to pretend it's not really happening to me.
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So, here we are. It's 0300 and I can't get back to sleep. The anticipated two months has turned out to be six, but now the day has finally arrived: in a few hours I'll be on my way in the theatre. My feelings are a strange mix of fear and hope, both taking it in turns to get the upper hand. I'm deliberately denied medication since they want me in the worst possible shape, which makes, for example, writing out this post a long laborious slog. It'll be worth it though, yesterday afternoon I had an absolutely fantastic meeting with two of the neurosurgical team, which boosted my spirits sky high. All being well and going to plan, my next post will be written at a vastly different speed from this one.
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