Brain Is A Bit Iffy...

I think my shunt is playing up; or starting to break down. Hopefully it isn't.

But after twenty-seven brain operations, you get to know when something doesn't quite feel right. You can't always explain it. You just know.

Of course, my brain, these days, looks like a washing machine; bits and bobs added here and there. When my neurosurgeon operated last time it was his first time. I told him it was the left and side to which he replied “it all comes from the same well, so it won’t matter…” So, I had the operation on the right side only to be back in two days later to have the left done.

He learned a lesson. He sent me for MRI’s and pieced the whole thing together.

The good news is that I actually feel okay. Well... my brain would want to. The problem isn't necessarily how I feel today. It's the waiting.

First, you have to see the GP. Then they send a referral. Then it takes a few days to reach the neurosurgeon's office. Then it gets triaged. Then someone decides when you get an appointment.

Brains don't always appreciate bureaucracy.

I've learnt over the years that, when it comes to your brain, it's probably better to be the annoying patient who came in too early than the brave patient who waited too long. So yes, I may have jumped the gun.

I'm perfectly happy to have a neurosurgeon tell me, "Carol, you've worried over nothing." That would make my day!

Because if they're right, I get to go home and continue annoying the Squeeze for a few more years.

I’m worried about my bloody hair. I have just got it right. Honestly, you'd think after twenty-seven/twenty eight brain operations I'd have my priorities sorted out. Apparently not.

People imagine that facing brain surgery involves deep philosophical thoughts about life, mortality and the meaning of existence.

Not me… I'm wondering how long it'll take before I can get back to the hairdresser.

I genuinely hope everything is fine. But after everything I've been through, I've learnt one thing. If your brain starts behaving differently, don't wait for it to send you a second reminder. And if this all turns out to be a false alarm...

...I'll happily apologise to my shunt.

Right after I apologise to my hairdresser.