I have been in something of a maudlin mood of late, concerning the forthcoming surgery. What if it doesn't go right? The surgeon could sneeze just at the wrong moment when he has a length of my grey matter pulled out of my head. And so on. In reality the procedure has a much higher chance of things like stroke than other trips under the knife. So I have been taking care of a few things like getting in touch with a few people juuuust in case the worse did happen - I would hate not to be able to communicate with them properly again afterwards.
Well, one author I admire wrote me a lovely note back. To preserve her anonymity, I shall just say thank you anonymous-statuesque-former-model. :-)
At the same time, I have been hiding said fears behind my usual exterior of nonsense. Well, that's just what I do, OK. However this has had some unexpected results.
As I have regularly referred to this as getting a labotomy, one of the university staff thought I was actually being lobotomised and was wondering how I was going to be able to continue my studies. Whoops.
A dear friend in the US, knowing my usual habit of talking drivel, thought all of these comments about getting holes drilled in the head were just more of the same. She received quite a shock to actually receive a serious email from me about it and realise that, no, I'm not actually joking. And I made her cry. Whoops again. Sorry Bailey - didn't mean it - promise!