The news.

It's been quite I while since I felt compelled to write. My voice feels increasingly irrelevant, and in the wake of yesterday's news continues to be, but I finally feel compelled again. 

Today, Rae turns one. I have just been up with her shushing and patting and feeding and squeezing and crying. And now it's 4:30am and I've come back to bed to write a blog post. 

Once upon a time I was obsessed with the news. All through my life I can date things I have done by events in the national and international press. I would scour my favourite news sites before I got out of bed every morning and any time I got a couple of minutes to spare throughout the day. I participated in lively discussions about current affairs. Not any more. 

I've always been emotional but since being ill and having children it's become ridiculous. I cry at everything, I've learnt to hide it quite effectively most of the time. Adverts get me, songs, my own mental thoughts, but worst of all, news stories. 

A few months ago now I stopped reading the news. I went cold turkey and at first I got loads of time back and revelled in my complete ignorance of what was going on in the world. I actively shunned conversations about the refugees, about economic cuts and our completely out of touch and cruel government. It felt comforting to not think about it, protected from the bad news. 

I feel guilty about it though. I don't like reading about, particularly the refugees, because I feel guilty, and unfairly lucky. It reminds me what we have, and the fact I have done nothing to deserve the good fortune of being born in the UK, to intelligent, kind and hard working parents. To have a family of my own, and a support network I can rely on. A house. Maternity leave. Two heart wrenching children. A life. 

I feel guilty for what I have in comparison, and I feel guilty for not having the emotional resilience to read about others or be able to help. So I have basically stuck my head in the sand. 

Social media is now my main pointer to world events, which is hardly a good indicator - my faith shattered after the Tory win in the general election last year (still hurts). 

Already emotional about Rae's impending first birthday, and my dreaded return to work, yesterday's shooting and stabbing of an mp has really got to me. Regardless of the political leanings of the victim, this is shocking news - have we really come to this? I can't quite get my head round it.

But then to hear about Jo Cox and the integrity and intelligence and kindness that she is, and the dignity of her husband in the wake of disaster, the fact she is northern, compassionate, an incredible role model for our children, a mother. I can't understand the unfairness, I am so upset. 

And once again I am given some perspective. There are more important things than poos on the kitchen floor and who last emptied the dishwasher. Today, Rae turns one. I want the best world possible for her to grow up in, people like Jo Cox to inspire her. 

I think it's time I started listening again. 

Hi ho, hi ho. Sob.

I'm going back to work tomorrow, after almost a year on maternity leave. Before that I was pregnant whilst recovering from brain surgery. And before that I was off sick for multiple months. It's been an odd few years and work has not really been a priority.

I've been in denial for ages about it. It's not that I don't want to work it's just that I don't want to not be with Alfred. I will miss him, and I will miss out on him. I won't be the one that sees him develop and knows what he likes. It's selfish, but I like being that person. The one who knows him best.

I know he will be fine. Of course he will be fine. But I worry that he will think I have abandoned him, and I worry that he won't notice I'm not around any more. And I worry that nobody will care as much as me and I worry that I won't be in control anymore. And mostly I worry that I will hardly ever see him.

But my bag is packed,  my office appropriate clothes are washed and my lunch is ready in the fridge. There's no denying it now.

I don't want to go to bed as that means morning will come quicker.

This time last year.

A year isn't an arbitrary number of days, but a full earthly swing around the sun. After a particularly painful relationship breakdown, I had some great advice that I think is applicable to any major life change: the first full year, with each annual event, resets the normal and allows you to move on. Birthdays, seasons, national holidays and anniversaries. We can't help but compare them to previous years.

It does seem arbitrary though, 365 days. 'This time last year' is something I've been saying a lot. We didn't know. We didn't know that I had a brain tumour and we didn't know how that news would impact us and what it would mean. We didn't know we would have a baby. Everything is different now, and I can't articulate how changed I feel.

All along I have been marking the time passed since my surgery on the 24th October 2012. It has recently struck me that that date isn't as important than the one looming now. The day everything changed was much earlier. In fact I can't pinpoint an actual day, but a steady build up of days.

Oliver's birthday (yesterday), followed by a family weekend by the sea (today and tomorrow), then immediately to a couple of days in Poland for work. And that's where it all kicked off with what I thought was a migraine in a hotel lobby. I'd been feeling kind of terrible for a couple of months but I hadn't really noticed it creeping up on me.

The emails I sent to work explaining my absence throughout the following week are fascinating to read back, and my twitter feed gives a somewhat simplified version of events:

• 21st September: dark when i leave work, dark when i get up for work. hope summer starts soon.
• 24th September: business travel on ryanair isn't quite business class. not that i'd know.
• 25th September: quite enjoying working in a hotel lobby today. particularly the soundtrack.
• 25th September: a triptan, 2 pints of water, vitamin c tablets, apple juice, spoon of marmite, prawn cocktail crisps. hot water bottle. bed. die: migraine.
• 27th September: in bed with a bag of peas on my head. @omorley is singing give peas a chance and i smell of peas. not in a good way. migraine, peas off now.
• 1st October: love the nhs.

I can't quite explain the fascination I have for this annual comparison. I continually marvel at the difference to today, but there is something else too. Would I go back to a year ago? Would I choose a different path if I could? No. I have developed as a person and learnt a lot about myself. It's been a worthwhile journey.

But it seems an anniversary to make a note of in some way. I feel almost tearful at the thought of this time last year, and as if I keep banging on about it. As per the advice above, maybe I'll move on after this. We'll soon have been through every annual event and the new normal will have been set. Time to look forward rather than back.

(There is no button and you can't go back.)

Special delivery.

It was impossible to imagine having a baby. Not the act of giving birth (I spent a lot of energy trying not to imagine exactly that), but having another person living with us who we would be totally responsible for.

It was incredibly surreal as we approached the end of the pregnancy, especially given that we knew when it was all going to kick off. Everything became a countdown, but with no knowing what the other side would be like. I was excited, but just couldn't get my head around what it meant.

And now we're here, the other side. Alfred Morley was born on Friday 2nd August at 9:52am. He is brilliant. We've been home just over a week now, and although I am tired and tend to burst into tears twenty times a day for no reason, everything is going really well. He eats a lot and sleeps a lot and spends the rest of the time looking around in wonder with massive brown eyes. He is impossibly tiny, a tiny human.

What is strange is how normal it all feels. Except normal isn't really the right word. I don't think we have any concept of normal anymore as everything has been so weird for quite a while. It feels right though. Can't ask for more than that.

Alfred Colin Morley.

Who am I?

It's been so long since I felt like me, that I don't even know if I would recognise it anymore.

I wish I'd had some warning, something to tell me to take a good long look at things as they are now, because it won't ever be the same again. I remember wishing I'd taken more notice of the way my head felt before surgery. Without bumps. And similarly I wish now that I'd really taken more notice of what life was like before any of this happened. Easy to say, looking back.

A couple of headaches, to a horrendous time preparing for surgery, to frustrating recovery, to being pregnant, to now. There was a time when I thought things would get back to normal after the surgery, and I even went running (about 200m but I was still quite pleased), but then I found out I was pregnant.

Things will never be the same again, and I will never be the same again.

Being pregnant is brilliant, except it isn't. Being pregnant is the promise of brilliance, without anything actually very positive happening. That you can see. Obviously something very positive is happening far out of sight. On the surface, it is physically hard and emotionally hard.

It isn't really the done thing to say negative things about pregnancy but Tanya Gold has inspired me.

I'm not me any more. I don't feel like me, I don't look like me (stupid hair) and I can't do any of the things that I would normally be able to do if I was me. I am weak, I can't sleep so I am permanently grumpy and I feel (although I realise this probably isn't happening it's just the hormones and lack of sleep paranoia) that noone is interested in me any more, other than things to do with the pregnancy. And I hate being so dependent on people.

I can't wait to have a baby, I can't wait to meet him and I can't wait to be one person again. Me.

Nothing.

It's been easy to write so far. I've had things I want to write about, but I knew this would happen.

When I'm feeling down I generally just go into hibernation until its over. Then write about it briefly, no one wants to read about being down. Least of all me. There's nothing to write when you're down.

But, in thinking this in the early hours of the morning (when I write in my head for later), I realised there was in fact a point to writing down that I had nothing to write down. Firstly to log it and remain true to why I am doing this. And secondly to look at it objectively.

Then I had something to write about, and immediately I feel better.

Why am I down? It just doesn't make sense. But then when I think about it there are reasons: I feel exhausted all the time and it's frustrating. I feel guilty and dependent for everything that everyone's doing for me. I'm covered in weird spots, as if I don't look like a freak enough already. I'm bloated and uncomfortable. And I feel guilty for feeling down.

Which leads me on to why I'm still really lucky. Nothing has changed, I just had a bad day. Not even day, couple of hours. To be expected. And just like that, I've typed my way out of it.

Feel better now.

Did that just happen?

Something that keeps fleetingly occurring to me is the sheer enormity of it. Then it goes again.

It first happened the night before surgery, in hospital, like I got a glimpse of the situation from another point of view. Then it was gone again.

After, it kept surfacing again but I put it down to the morphine. The horror of what just happened... have I just had something pulled out if my brain? Did they really just open my head?

In the shower in hospital I had a moment. I wept with relief. I'd survived. I'd just managed to balance on one foot while washing the other and that's always taxing, but it seemed ridiculous to be showering, and balancing on one leg, when I hadn't been sure I was going to be able to move said leg at all. 

It was a happy moment, but ridiculous too. I had to hold on to the wall and weep. And then laugh. I'd survived.

I think it will take a bit of time for the enormity of what's happened to sink in. It's ok to write about how you're processing experiences, but it doesn't mean you're actually processing them. Argh.

Surreal still, I guess.

Not a good night for a car alarm.

After the excitement of being set free, I wasn't sure how I would feel.

Physically, I'd kind of got used to the tight feeling of the bandages (although I couldn't feel my ears), so when they came off, my head felt loose - like lopsided. It moves when I laugh, I'm not sure which part of it moves, but it definitely moves. And when I raise my eyebrows. And it feels heavier on the right.

I guess it will take some getting used to and it will start to knit back together soon. But mentally I also wasn't sure how I'd feel.

It was amazing to get home and see Neville and be among my things again. Mum had made the house really nice and washed everything that I might even think about using for sterility. It was incredible. Beka came over and we had a lovely evening just reeling in wonder. What a month! Then I went to bed. My first night without the bandage, how would that feel?

Turns out pretty weird. I can feel pulsing in my head, I'm convinced you could see it if you look hard enough, but lying down made the bone creak. It wasn't unpleasant unless combined with the pulsing - which made it... rhythmic...

In hospital I don't think I dreamt. As we went to bed I was extra cautious with my head placement (to minimise rhythmic creaking) and surprisingly dropped off easy enough. Only to wake up at half past two - in hysterics.

There was a car alarm going off outside that I had been dreaming was an alarm in theatre. I don't have specific recall of the dream but it was clear that something had gone wrong and it was to do with my head. Poor Olly. It's been years since I had a nightmare.

Morning has arrived.

I slept absolutely fine, was woken just before two for my obs which weren't at all intrusive, and was told I'm first on the operating list which is a massive relief for me. I just want this done now, the longer the wait the more my brain thinks and I have reached about saturation point for that now.

So here we are, it's 5:30am and I'm awake. I will be thrown in the shower at 6am with some special stuff I need to use for hygiene and infection prevention, pre surgery. I've also been supplied a gown for surgery, some optional plastic pants (thoughts anyone?) and some stockings. I will look forward to changing back into pyjamas, that will feel like a nice thing to do and a bit of a milestone I think. 

While I'm showering the nurses will change my bed to ensure everything is clean as possible and then this is where I'll be until they come for me between 8am and 8:30am. Olly and mum will hopefully will have made it down to say hello. And goodbye. I feel fine now, like I'm totally ready, but I know when I see them I'll cry. I don't really want to cry as it's pointless and I don't want to cause a fuss and upset everyone else but I can't help it. Always been a cryer it's irritating. Am actually having a little cry now too, just to myself. If this was a film then it would be a good time for a little cry.

For the first time last night I felt brave, but it was still a false feeling as I don't have any choice in this. Anyone in this situation would be doing what I'm doing. But I think it was because I was properly scared last night, such a strange experience. I really don't remember a time I have been truly scared before. Maybe after this I'll be able to watch zombie films with ghosts in. I'll be like whatever - that's not scared, I'm going to get a cup of tea. Hope that happens. (I bet it doesn't though I'll be behind the sofa with a cushion whimpering at triffids).

I'm quite thirsty but obviously can't drink anything now. I am a bit nervous feeling, like before an exam or something but my overwhelming thoughts now are phew. It's nearly over. And there are no more nights to get through.

I can't post this as the magic internet has disappeared. But it is here waiting to be logged.

[Jen wrote that last night and then lost her internet connection so I'm posting it now instead - Oliver]

All becomes clear.

I can't remember the last time I was actually scared of something. It's not like starting a new job, or worrying where the cat's run off to. I'm actually, terrified. I'm not sure I have ever even been terrified before and it's a very strange feeling.

My heart is racing and has been for quite some time. I don't seem to be able to breathe properly. I keep bursting into tears. And it's annoying that I can't stop it. I think that's the difference - usually I can talk myself out of anxiety, or nervousness, or worry pretty easily - this is unstoppable.

I'm not scared of being alone, I think that must have been an easy cop out for me yesterday. It's pretty obvious now (duh, I feel like such an idiot). I'm scared of someone drilling open my head. They're going to actually open up my head - that is just. Ridiculous.

I bloody knew it would all come out now.

I had a shower earlier and thought I'd wash what hair I have left for the last time, with nice shampoo. Half way through I suddenly realised that my head is never going to be the same again. It will be different. Scarred. Bumpy. With metal in it. How on earth had I not realised this before? I felt really bad that I haven't taken more notice of the shape of my head, as now it's too late, it will be different. Sorry head.

I'm going to have a massive scar when I wake up and bandages and a drain coming out of my head. That's a terrifying thought. I wish my heart would slow down.

A bed for the night.

Right then, the bed manager has spoken and my bed awaits. It feels a bit too real now and I've got the shakes. Luckily Neville is lying so completely across my arms as I'm typing that I can only move the end of my fingers, so I can't actually shake.

I have been busy today, bought some new pyjama bottoms and a travel toothpaste for the occasion, and have been studiously ignoring my list of important things to do. Except the council tax bill, I did that.

But the time has come. I need to have a shower and pack. And then get myself to King's. Here we go.

I wish I didn't have to.

I have no free will.

The trouble with deciding not to worry is I don't actually have any free will so it isn't something I can control.

[I urge you to watch this, it took me a few goes to get but completely affected me, I loved it. I had always been a spot embarrassed about my taste in music / art / culture (I am not what you might call cool) but this whole lack of free will idea made so much sense to me and took away the responsibility I felt to like what everyone else likes. It was months ago now and I'd forgotten it's impact on me until yesterday, and seems just as appropriate now. This is the second Sam Harris plug I've done but I really recommend watching it.]

Random thoughts are popping into my brain, and it's not me who puts them there. What if this is the last time I can cut up my own food. Jesus. What did you think that for, dude? Stop crying already.

It's getting tedious.

But it's ok, it'll be daylight again in a bit and everyone else will soon wake up. My melodramatic what if's should recede to manageable levels once more as I get embroiled in last minute tasks I've saved up for today, to panic over specially.

• Pay the outstanding council tax bill. Probably should have fast tracked that one.
• Cut nails (What if.. SHUT UP BRAIN not listening)
• Buy dressing gown
• Pick up latest sick note from the doctor's
• Tidy bedroom just a little bit as its quite embarrassing and people might see it if I'm away for a while
• Decide on music and entertainment to take in with me
• Join library and get audiobooks out
• Pack hospital bag
• Practice drums
• Go to hospital

That's what my today looks like. Might just skip to the drums, that should wake everyone up. I can blame my unsociability on lack of free will.

Thinking about going under.

I feel like I've pretty much processed everything now except for one thing: the operation itself. And the timing is good as I'm going into hospital tomorrow. Now would be a good time to get this processed.

It's simple, really. I'm very scared. I haven't gone much beyond that in my thinking so I need to work out what I'm scared of so that I can just park it. That worked really well with thinking through the possible side effects and I think it'll work here too.

I am being admitted tomorrow (Tuesday), so they can monitor me overnight and do whatever it is they need to do, but the surgery itself will be on Wednesday (hopefully - there is a chance I will get bumped last minute for an emergency. I'm ignoring this just now as it's just a variable too far).

The anticipation of the operation will be the worst, and so I'm very worried about Tuesday night in hospital.

I don't want to spend the night awake in hospital, terrified, alone, with dark scary thoughts going round my head. I will be alone, and I hate that. Visiting hours must end at some point, and then I'll be alone. I know I'll be ok, it's just I don't want to be alone. But I have to be so... I'll just have to deal with it as there isn't anything else to do. (I fully plan on demanding drugs to knock me out).

What else?

I think once I've made it through Tuesday night, Wednesday will be fine. I'm pretty sure by then I'll be like, bring it on. It'll be daylight, there'll be people there and I'll just want to get it over and done with. Not actually too worried about Wednesday. Wheel me away, give me anaesthetic and then I just do a spot of time travel.

It will be strange to wake up, will I know what's happened? Will it hurt? Will I know if Oliver's there? Will I be able to move? What will it feel like?

Can't answer any of these, and nobody can. It feels like a useless exercise even thinking about it actually. I'm just going to have to wait and see. I don't want to be in lots of pain, but I know they can give me relief and I'll still be very sleepy so I think that's probably not worth getting too worried about.

So that's it. Turns out all I'm really scared about is being alone. It seems simultaneously a bit of an anticlimax, but understandable.

Right, I'll get back to building a drumkit then, that was easy.

Thunderbolt of panic.

Ah, and there it is.

Always expected but never anticipated, who knows where it comes from. I made a will today. I've been meaning to for absolutely years and this has just given me the motivation to finally get around to it but it does feel a bit morbid. And it's scary seeing your "last will and testament" bound on a table. Sheesh.

I think that probably didn't help.

But the panic just hit out of the blue. One minute I'm on the sofa, niece playing on the floor, really lovely day and suddenly I'm in tears, imagining I'm dead and everyone's just having to deal with it. It comes on so fast that I couldn't explain it if I wanted to and I have no idea if anyone's even noticed that I'm crying. I'm not even crying for me, it's like it's a film and it's really sad.

All the stuff I've been through and the crap and the misery and the growing up. It would be sad to die now that I'm in this awesome place and not have the opportunity to enjoy it for longer. Now I've finally got here.

I am actually thinking of my life in terms of a film. I should really stop doing that because its the chick flicks making me cry, not reality. It's your fault Kate Hudson.

Phew.

Well. What a day.

I was a bit nervous this morning knowing that I was going to tell you all about everything today, but was hoping that once it was out in the open I would feel better. And I do, it's a massive relief.

It's been really emotional and I haven't yet got back to any of the messages you've all been sending, but thank you SO much. It means a lot and they are all lovely. Once I'd posted, I just shut the computer for a while and twiddled my thumbs. I'm not very good at twiddling my thumbs though so then I just watched the messages come in and cried.

Totally took it out of me. I'm exhausted. Just wanted to say thanks, for now.

A funny old day.

I had a really good chat with Oliver tonight before he went to chestershire club, and it just reminded me how incredibly lucky I am to be surrounded by brilliant people. Talking, honestly, can solve anything.

Anyway, in this really good chat, I was explaining to Oliver how I have been so up and down all day. About three times each I think, really quite a yoyo. I started off feeling this was totally unreasonable, as well as annoying as I just can't keep track of myself and control it. But then I realised actually that today has been a really big day in terms of news. And I think that it's all coming out now. I am panicking, big time. And that's a good thing.

I'm really glad Olly was at the hospital with me. It was useful to get his opinion of what happened this morning to overlay on my own thoughts. It turns out we were both quite shocked at how negative the news was, when we'd been really led to believe so far that it wasn't so bad. Now I know the worst, nothing has changed in reality, but it seems much more real. I am really very scared now.

I have been thinking a lot about how the next week will be and I think the panic will now grow right up until surgery. There is just too much to think about. I think I am more worried about how worried I will be in the run up, and how that will manifest itself.

So the learning for today is that it's ok to have an up and down day, when I've been dealing with new information and shock.  But tomorrow I would like to be a bit more stable (less panic, less crying) and more calm.

Also - unconnected - I've been reading some Sam Harris about lying which is really good. But hard to implement. Love it though.

Too much information.

Well. That was certainly interesting.

We went to the hospital this morning and had some really quite revelatory information. I have been known to be contrary (!) but it seems throughout this process that just when I feel I have a handle on the seriousness versus reality balance, I am just thrown off the other end.

I am very impressed with King's, again, after today. I was seen incredibly promptly, and not just by a nurse, but by the registrar surgeon on my case, two support people who ensure I have what I need support wise pre and post op, as well as a physio nurse whose team will be helping me get back to full working order, whatever the side effects will be.

They sat me down and went through the detail, and took my questions patiently and fully as a team, for as long as I kept going. I wasn't rushed, they listened and explained as much as I needed and really gave me the feeling that they were there for me. I came away with contact details for the team, details of a charity and support group, a reminder that they are always there for questions and a recommendation of two other young women in my situation that I can speak to at any time. I really was very impressed.

And completely shaken up and shocked.

I did ask what they were going to do, and I am glad that I did. I'm not going to write it down but I will tell you in person if you're interested. Logistically it is all incredibly clever and I liked how they were so passionate about it. But it is also quite gruesome when you think that it is going to be your own head.

Mostly so far people have spent an awful lot of energy explaining to me how this is routine, and simple, and although serious, quite straightforward. I know that people think it's comforting, and if they're medical then I take it more seriously. But sometimes (ok mostly) it's annoying when non medical people say "I just know everything is going to be fine". Seriously? Is it? Oh OK thanks, what am I worrying for then?

Woops. Side rant.

Anyway, so when I arrived this morning and they asked what my understanding was I think I tried to be brave and positive, and that worried them. They shot me right down and explained exactly how dangerous it is and all the possible going wrong scenarios. More worryingly they said very clearly they didn't know what it was, or how bad it is and they won't know until they get it out.

I know this of course, but until now I had understood that it was almost certainly benign and pretty clear from the scan that it shouldn't be too difficult to remove. That's not what they said today. In fact they went out of their way to prove the opposite - although I am taking it all with a massive pinch of salt. I don't think they were trying to scare me, just be realistic and manage my expectations. I appreciate a management of expectations!

Just a bit shaky about it really.

I think the main thing now is to get through the next week without too many panic attacks or scary thoughts about the long term side effects. I plan to do fun things now and start being less morbid. Might even go for a walk in a minute. When I've just, you know, had a little rest...

Early morning jitters.

I'm attempting this from my phone for the first time. Not sure if it's really a good idea not to have a little censor later, as it is predictably five in the morning again.

I knew I'd have a spot of trouble sleeping last night. I felt much much better when I went to bed than I had during the day. We had a really quiet companionable day. I managed to cook which I hadn't for a while and I love cooking. And Neville was being brilliant.

But this morning is my hospital appointment, and although I'll probably only be meeting a nurse and talking about the medication I'm on, it has been playing in my mind.

It's going to be more real. The surgery. I mean, there's no messing around now. This time next week I'll be being admitted tomorrow. So really it's time to start asking questions and preparing, and I'm looking forward to getting information on it so I can prepare, but it's still daunting and scary. And it doesn't take much right now for anything daunting and scary to just go round and round for hours.

I want to make sure I ask all the questions while I have chance. But I don't really want to know the answers. Except I do want to know as long as I have option to say nahhh, yer ok thanks. Which I don't. That might be the best paragraph I have ever written.

So I've been awake trying to work out what I'm worried about the most and why to remember to ask. It's actually hard to decipher specific things I'm worried about instead of the big whole so I think it's been a useful exercise:


Side effects

• Long term memory problems / lack of ability to concentrate or multitask (I love my job but it is busy and manic in periods and I need to rely on these previous skills).
• Temporary loss or impairment to speech / sight / movement obviously. Just interested in what they are expecting.

Recovery

• Getting back on my feet, most importantly how long until I can get home.
• Independence during recovery. Ok I'll cut to the chase, bedpans and commodes are plaguing my thoughts. I just want to be able to use the the bloody toilet on my own. If possible.
• Pain. How much will it hurt? (I really don't want it to hurt).
• What drugs will they expect to give me and for how long and what are the side effects.
• What's the ward like (can I see it?)
• When do they expect I'll be able to start running again? Fly again? Be me again.
• Are there any provisions for counselling and / or support during recovery?
• Can I bring my laptop into hospital?

Surgery itself

• What's the deal with the head shaving, or any other prep I might need to do.
• What is the procedure. I want to know logistics and details. What do they screw my skull back in to? What position will I be in? How long... What's all this about a gamma knife?
• Do I need the groin thing. Yeesh. If so, when, because I have some serious maintenance to do. Which actually to be fair should be done before surgery anyway. And let's be honest, it's not the maintenance that's bothering me its the I getting injected into a groin artery. But still.
• Waking up post surgery, if at all possible, what the hell should I expect please?

There are some glaring omissions of course. But thought I better stick to questions I can realistically expect some kind of meaningful answer to. And I'm going to try really hard not to cry until I'm on the way home.

Ok. Brain dump over, should have don't this earlier I might have a little snooze now.

So sorry for myself.

Being wide awake at half five in the morning is actually getting quite annoying now. People should write more on Facebook at 5 in the morning. Just for my benefit.

I'm having a down day. Or two. Maybe it a weekend thing as it happened last weekend too. So far I have waited it out before writing about it but there's nothing else to do and it might actually help.

Feeling very contrary. And irritable. If someone encourages me to rest it annoys me and I want to prove I'm fine to do things. And if they try to encourage me to do things I'm annoyed that I'm not getting more sympathy and doting. Basically I am being very attention seeking.

I'm boring myself even.

So I'm back in bed on my own feeling sorry for myself. I don't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. I don't want to get dressed or go out I just want to lie here feeling sorry for myself. And then write about it. Oh deary me.

It's really stupid as well because its the weekend and people are actually around. Tomorrow I'll be back on my own with no one around and then I'll really feel sorry for myself. 

And I've got period pains.

And a headache.

OK I'm done now. I do actually feel a bit better for writing all that down.

A knife edge of emotion.

I've been to see Henry Rollins a few times in the past (won't be again) and I found it really irritating each he said "here's another thing..." and launched into a new topic. He got on my nerves quite a lot actually but he obviously thought this was really cool as he did it all the way through, each time I saw him. I feel a bit like that now. Here's another thing...

Emotion. I'm constantly on the edge of tears and it's starting to grate. I've always cried easily, films, books, adverts, articles anything can set me off really and I do enjoy a good cry - but now it just feels a bit predictable and indulgent. 

It's not a big thing, just irritating. It was lyrics a minute ago. I'm not crying at the tragicness of the situation (I actually have it pretty good here!) it's like if this was a film then I'd cry at it. 

If someone says something nice to me, I cry. If someone gets upset, I cry. If I have a random thought about something, I cry, then wonder why I'm crying, remember I have a brain tumour and carry on crying. 

Then, I just snap out of it. Get distracted, do something else and it's gone. Totally fake emotion. Very weird.