Before anyone wonders...
I'm fine.
Well... I'm reasonably fine.
It just feels suspiciously like one of the shunts in my head
is deciding it's had enough of gainful employment and is considering early
retirement.
If I'm right, it'll mean another trip to the neurosurgeon. Another
operation. At this point I honestly can't remember the exact number.
Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Somewhere around there. Once you've had enough
brain surgeries, they all start blending together.
You know what annoys me the most?
Not the operation.
Not the hospital.
Not even the recovery.
My bloody hair.
I have just got it right.
After months of trying to get it to an even length, because
neuro’s ain’t no hairdressers! They don’t have a hairdressers brain between
them! And now some surgeon is probably going to shave a chunk out of it again.
They may as well use a lawnmower with the GT stripes up the back.
Honestly, you'd think after this many brain operations I'd
have my priorities in order.
Apparently not.
People imagine facing brain surgery involves deep
philosophical thoughts about life, mortality and the meaning of existence.
No.
It is my plan to go out this way. Just go to sleep and never
wake up! No pain. No awful accident. I’m well prepared for it; well who wouldn’t
be after twenty seven/eight brain operations? I’ve even got the plot at the cemetery
and the plaque to go on it!
But I regress lol. I'm standing in front of the mirror
wondering whether the hairdresser can somehow work around another scar.
The thing is, after this many operations, fear isn't really
the emotion anymore.
It's irritation.
"Oh... not this again."
You know the hospital.
You know the forms.
You know the smell.
You know they'll wake you up every two hours to ask how
you're feeling.
"Tired."
"I wonder why."
The upside is that modern neurosurgery is extraordinary. The
people who do this for a living never cease to amaze me. They've kept me going
through more than two dozen brain operations, and for that I'll always be
grateful.
I just wish my shunt would stop behaving like an ageing
appliance.
Everything else in my house seems to want to be replaced
lately.
I'd rather my brain wasn't trying to join in.
