Ready

It’s here. My daughter’s spinal op is all set for tomorrow.

Well, at least, as long as it’s not cancelled at the very last minute, which is something I'm refusing to contemplate. We’re about to head off to hospital, as we have to report in today. If they say my daughter’s op is off, then I shall simply stick my fingers in my ears, tra la la for a bit, and possibly stage a sit-in.

Her anxiety levels seem relatively low. But she does like hospitals.

Seven years ago I spent a terrible, interminable day waiting as surgeons cut my daughter open, inserted titanium rods and bolted them onto her spine to act as scaffolding to correct her scoliosis.

Tomorrow, I’ll be spending two hours fretting whilst they remove the metalwork to ease the nerve pain she’s been feeling intermittently for the last year.

My tactics this week have been simple: I’ve worn myself out going for long swims and long walks. I’ve clocked up 25,000 steps a day, and when my head has hit the pillow at night I’ve been so tired that I’ve instantly dropped off into oblivion.

I’ve got a feeling that tonight I won’t get a wink. I’ll have a camp bed by her hospital bedside, and the worries I’ve been burying will surface and swirl.

Maybe I’ll take my trainers and pace around the hospital corridors.

She’s ready. I’m going to have to be.

Song is Aretha Franklin - People Get Ready