I'm bad. I'm so bad. Ever since the diagnosis I've had trouble taking my job as seriously as I should. This is really, really, bad, because lives depend on my doing my job well. The lives of animals, yeah, but if I didn't think those were important, I wouldn't be in this field. And it's not like I'm blowing off my responsibilities. But I can't seem to shake this sort of obsessive inward focus, this amazement and worry about my brain and my future, and everything outside my own skull just seems somehow a little less compelling. I don't want to go to work. I just want to hang out with the cats in my sunny apartment all day, puttering around, taking it easy. It's almost as if I'm already thinking of myself as in post-op recovery, because if I have to have surgery, that's sort of what I vaguely envision it as being like. (Except of course that I won't be able to bend over or lift anything or cook or do any housework or laundry, and I'll be tired all the time, and have to sleep with my head elevated, and be on a bunch of drugs for who knows how long. Etc. Assuming everything goes well, that is! But I digress.)
This is the PRECISE thing I did NOT want to find myself doing! The self-absorption of the seriously ill - I've seen it so many times in my family, and I didn't want to be doing it myself, especially since I have such a strong Leo tendancy to be self-absorbed all the time anyway. And now look at me! Self-absorbed to the max! Fight it though I do, as hard as I can, yet despite all my best efforts I'm doing it anyway!
Aaagh! I can't stand myself!