I did a full six and a half hours sleep last night, that probably would have been more were it not for my PT texting me at 6.30am which buzzed through to my Fitbit. She’s already working on the next part of the exercise plan, and so am I, despite an almost automated response from my brain right now to go to dark mode whenever the thought of the operation surfaces. I am determined, no IT IS ESSENTIAL that I start to teach my subconscious to not do this as a matter of urgency. I’ve trained a body out of sedentary mode and towards long term athletic fitness. Now, it is my minds’ turn.
If this were cancer, everything would need to be in fight mode. I could not possibly give up or even entertain the thought of failure. I have fully grasped the concept of mortality in the last few days, and my dreams were full of those echoes: meeting David Bowie in the last days before he died, having to deal with an unconscious son who had a head injury I’d (accidentally) caused. My brain knows what we’re up against here and is fighting me every step of the way, but I will not and cannot allow the negativity to win.
I need to stay focussed and with my eye on the future.
I’m going to spend the weekend being active, as much as possible, because I know I need to keep moving. I was very sensible last night and was able to have a Chinese Take Out, even if it was the healthiest possible options. I’m not going to lie, the imposed diet is beginning to irritate me. There’s also a low, intermittent level of upper abdominal pain that is making wearing a bra uncomfortable, so much so I took it off yesterday and its not gone back on. I know if I spike I’m off to A&E without a thought.
For now, business remains as much as normal as it is possible to get.