I’m writing this post from another hospital bed with another view of another car park,  having undergone yet another procedure for another suspected ailment.

And as a healthy person, this is scary.

I am the person who survives on minimal sleep during challenging work periods.   I’m the woman who is ultra calm and able to make clear, quick decisions during crisis. I’m the Mother always up for the 100metre dash at school sports days, who swims and skis, dances and laughs.  I’m assertive. Goal orientated. Caring and supportive.  I am lots of things.   I am Not sick.

So this latest adventure is more challenging than the first.  Because I can’t unknow what I now know. I know what it feels like to wear compression socks and hospital gowns, to have the anaesthetist say “slight scratch and sting”  before the land of nod arrives. I know about the half-life-waking in the recovery room and the waves of pain in-between the trips of morphine.  The bloods, the pulse checks, the blood pressure checks. I know. I know. I know.
And yet,  I’m more knowing of the concept of unknown.  Having embarked on this 8 week journey of fog, uncertainty and ambiguity, the answers remain elusive, even after today.  Perhaps this is how it’s meant to be.  For now.

I am more curious and inquisitive of the procedure, the consultant, the potential diagnosis and outcomes. I explore the dance of the mind from the outside in, knowing my thoughts and fears are just thoughts and fears. I live the experience of managing the mind and body on a daily basis, trying to stay present and not look too far forward.  And there are days when this goes great and I achieve gold star status and days where I’m outright, downright scared.

On scary days I have to force myself out of bed.  I set small tasks to manage myself.  Cleaning out cupboards, filing, tidying.  I like silence but scary days demand loud dancing or singing music of infinite variety.  I try to get out but sometimes the really bad scary days mean I hide inside,  all the while knowing this is not the answer.  I chant and tap and do star jumps and stretches.  And I say  over and over “I am healthy, this is just a moment-in-time, a dose of bad luck”.

I AM healthy.  This is a wake up call.  To look after my body.  To eat clean organic food. To get and stay fit. To dance more. Laugh more. Live more.  To get scared more.  Because in those really scary moments in those really scary days, I know I’m alive.  I’m upside down with my guts in my throat roller-coasting through life.  And yes, it’s uncomfortable and dark and stressy at times. And it’s not rainbows and stardust and big, glitzy, glam ‘shout it from the rooftop’ experiences.  It’s real-life on a micro scale.

What am I learning?

1. Patience.  I admit this has never been a great attribute of mine but I’m learning to wait, To stop, To breathe, To let go.  Being patient is an ongoing work in progress.

2. To talk out my fears.  When I hear myself speak out my darkest, most ridiculous thoughts I often immediately realise how mad they are.  Or I discuss and defend these until I talk myself out of the loop and then they go and I laugh at my own craziness.

3. To be able to feel without feeling too much.  I’m reacquainted with my feelings and stating what these are, while knowing they will change.  I also know now, how to put a lid on this so I’m empathetic but don’t get so involved.

4. That living with an unknown is not as bad as I thought it was.  It just is. I play with breathing and mindfulness and micro-doing and I get through the myriad of days with a better degree of thankfulness, grace and joy.

5. To shout for help.  Or, sometimes,  to just shout.  I’ve stopped trying to cope in silence.  I’ve put my pride to one side.  I’ve reached out and said “can you….” and I’m blown away by the time and generosity of my incredibly special tribe of friends.  And by my lovely husband who sometimes finds it as cathartic as I do, to shout loudly to relieve stress.

My latest scar is my ambiguity tattoo.  The unknown is scary but predictability is worse!