Tomorrow is my appointment with the neurologist/psychologist. The train tickets have been booked, the route is known, and there's nothing in particular I have to accomplish tomorrow, beyond simply talking through my story and wishes for the future.
Yet I'm still feeling about as high-strung as imaginable. Beset by fearful sensations as well as unpleasant memories - some more clear than others - the basic thought I have throughout all of this is how much I dislike dealing with doctors, psychologists and kin. Not the least because of them being the primary cause of my post-traumatic stress disorder.
I'll just have to grit my teeth for a bit longer, get through today and tomorrow. See what happens. Then hopefully with a few months there'll be just the countdown to the surgery and hopefully finally the release from this nightmare.