Delightful

So, five days to go before they whizz the top of my head off and whip this brain tumour out (see how light-hearted and jovial I am about the whole thing?). Needless to say I'm not entirely light-hearted but bathing in a pool of flippant whimsy is always the best coping strategy, I find. Still no dressing gown. I'm beginning to think I'm going to get away with it.

The onset of panic today is largely caused by the copy of a letter I received last night, written from one consultant to another. Talking about these things is one thing, but seeing it all written down strikes something of a note of deep terror. The fact that they still don't really know what the thing is doesn't help either. Is not knowing anything better than knowing something bad?

The approach I'm taking at the moment, mind you, is to continue panicking about the results of the test when they send the Thing off for analysis. That way, the whole whipping the top of the head off thing seems like a jolly jape by comparison. Then, once I'm through the other side of that, all I'll have to worry about is the results and I've waited for terrifying results before so I can do it again. The compartmentalisation of fear, that's the ticket. Things are always easier when you break them down into smaller pieces.

One consolation is that the letter described me as 'delightful'. That's something, isn't it? Another is that A Place in the Sun - Down Under is on tonight. Amanda Lamb will see me through alright.