Today, the surgeon who worked on me (or in me, as it happens) the last time called. That was a pleasant surprise. He’s a special chap. An Icelander, big as a bear and straight to the point. No frills and no fancy wording for the painful stuff but a good portion of humour. A rare combination. Also, he’s one of the best in Europe in his field, something I really have benefitted from. That said - his ward nearly toppled me thrice last time, and he knows it. But he apologised, learned from it and made good. And now we’re actually joking about it when planning these new sessions.
Anyway - while he confirmed (again) my suspicion that my condition eventually most likely will kill me, he was as confident that my primary target of getting another fifteen years (I need to get my kids under own steam before I go) before I’m packing in somewhat lacking in ambition. And hearing that from him was VERY comforting indeed! It really lifted my spirits.
Another thing that really brought me joy was getting the backstory for my Freighter C.2 done and up on the site. I had a blast researching and writing, and it was really very nice of you all to comment so positively. Thank you so much!
So that got me going on another few stories about old whifs from the shelves. We’ll see what I complete first.
