Nightcrawler*

Jolting out of sleep, I check my watch: 3.45am.  Yuck.  I’m wide awake: morning-awake.  Switching my phone on, reaching for my water bottle, I gulp some down.  It’s annoying, but understandable.  Am, despite what have been telling everyone (why?) nervous about Major Surgery in 2 days time.  

Checking Facebook, there are about ten of my chums online: the ones with small babies.  Am not going to fight this alertness, I decide.  Will blog about it and then meditate and sleep.  Will change alarm time to 8am so can achieve gym before walking Mr Fluffypants.

  
It’s ok to feel this, I tell myself.  It’s ok to resent these twin illnesses that am trapped between: the Scylla of manic depression and the Charybdis of secondary breast cancer.  

It’s raining. Can hear the water running in the gulleys and dripping down the walls outside.  Love this middle-of-the-night quiet.  It’s peaceful.

Right.  Back to sleep.  If I can.  Big day tomorrow:

1.  Gym

2.  Meet Mr Fluffypants.

3.  Walk him.  With Hannah.  

4.  Await Seb’s arrival.

The tiredness overwhelms me. Unhelpfully: the birds have woken up and are tweeting that it is morning.

Happy Sunday everyone!

*2014.  Jake Gylenhall film.

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