Nurgle, and other things

I had a bad night last night.

Before going to bed, I managed to convince myself that at this Friday’s pre-op assessment, they’re going to tell me I’m wildly overweight (which, to be fair, I know), and they can’t possibly operate until I’ve lost three stone. Either that, or they’re going to give me an operation date in the last week in February – I’ve got a really important course the first week in March, and if I miss this one, goodness knows when I’ll next get a chance. So, I lay awake for ages going through all the possible things that could go wrong, and dreaming up the swearwords I’m going to use when they do.

When I finally got to sleep, I had the weirdest dream about my friend Gill, which was also a bit disturbing. And later in the day I was talking to my Mum: As I’ve told you, she’s having tests for just about every illness known to man (or woman) in the hope of finding out what’s actually wrong with her. Tomorrow she’s being scanned for cancer, and is convinced that the results are going to come back that she’s got stomach cancer.

I’m desperately trying to think of something positive to say. Oh yes – I had a really good session at the gym this evening…

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