The extent to which I am completely and utterly unique is becoming more and more apparent. The word unique was carefully replaced from the term crazy, as I would rather consider my quirks to contribute to a character regarded as exceptional or individual than deranged or batty. When I speculate about the concerns and apprehensions that I would consider “normal” for someone on the cusp of major surgery and then juxtapose them with my own actual anxieties, I begin to appreciate quite how unparalleled my thought processes are.
One would presume that my mind would be predominantly perturbed by the risks of the surgery and how best to prepare for it both mentally and physically. Unexpectedly, I seem to allocate more brainpower and time contemplating important issues such as how to have a hair cut in my bed, or a facial, or even a manicure. How could I possibly enter an operating theatre with split ends, unpainted nails and worst of all spots! These are, of course, exactly the crucial details that the surgeons, nurses and technicians will be concentrating on during back surgery. My priorities may be somewhat skewed but one cannot help the musings that occupy their cerebral cortex can they?
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