'Time to wake up. You've just got time for a shower before the porter arrives for you.' Every year now, I dream of being wheeled downstairs to surgery while it was stll dark outside. A corridor. A small, moustached and balding man in a three piece suit. A yellow rosebud in a buttonhole. The smell of soap. And then... 'Time to wake up' and bright lights shining above me again.
Another anniversary and the first thing that comes to mind is how afraid I was that day. It seems strange that the diagnosis itself didn't worry me much, but the need for surgery was terrifying!
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