In 24 hours I will be having brain surgery. Eek.
I will officially be on the other side of what has been the most testing, exhausting, eye opening, humbling and life changing experiences. It has been so many things that I honestly can’t work out whether I’m excited or nervous or perhaps a bit of both. Maybe even a little nostalgic at closing the doors on a chapter that has had such an uncontrollable but welcomed change on me, with no idea of what the next one will bring. But whilst I’m not 100% sure how I’m feeling right now, I do know that after months of sleepless nights, I am quite looking forward to the 5 hours they suspect it will take.
I can’t post this on social media just yet because still so many of my family and friends are unaware that I am about to do this. But I started this blog because I understand it will come as a surprise to a lot of people when the news is out, and aside from giving me something productive to do whilst I recover, it also means I can share my updates with anyone that wants to know, without letting them consume my daily conversations.
I can’t really remember why I even chose to keep it as secret as possible now. Maybe because it felt like such a defining moment when I was told I would need surgery. It was inescapable and all-consuming and I feared it would become part of my identity if I admitted it. Hiding it as best as I could felt like the only little bit of this I could really control and I was almost proving to myself that it wasn’t changing me if others couldn’t guess it was going on.
But it has been very much a double life and a difficult one to keep up at times and if I had to do it again, which could well be a possibility after tomorrow, I would do things differently.
I don’t at all think I’m an inspiration and what I’m going through is by no means more significant than anything else anyone is going through. But I do feel that if I can help someone in a similar situation to me one day by being a little more open about my own experience then I will, as I know how much I have craved the same. Not to mention, my recovery this summer isn’t something I’ll be able to hide as well as the build up. There will be no jet setting to Mexico or Copenhagen or brunching in the lovely London. Instead, I’ll be moving back home to Bromsgrove and probably taking long walks to Sanders Park. Gulp.
But on that note, I am very aware of the fact I’m not through this yet, not even close, and I have absolutely no idea how tomorrow will turn out or what the next few months are going to look like. And whilst this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I moved to London in pursuit of a few wild and captivating stories to laugh back on, I’m hoping over time that’s all it will become; just a really random story I tell of the time I had brain surgery.