“i’m not nervous,” i say, nervously.

We’re in Scotland now. The Airbnb is nice, but it feels a little cold and clinical. A shell of a house that’s seen no love. You know, the kind that says a place has been lived in. Not sure if that's by design, or just because I miss my cats. The fridge is full of some basic groceries to keep us going over the weekend, and Ma and I are finally winding down for the day. I’m on one sofa playing Animal Crossing while Ma is on the other watching Matlock on TV at a volume I’m sure isn’t acceptable. But hey, she’s stubborn and refuses to use her hearing aid, so. What can you do? We have a taxi booked for the trip to the hospital in the morning for the pre-op tests. I’ll book another one for the morning of the surgery when we get back from those tomorrow. I’ve been telling people that I’m not nervous about surgery and that I feel more excited, but when I had a panic attack as the plane took off, I viscerally remembered that I often feel my negative emotions in a more physical manner. My…