Tomorrow I go yet again into the unknown. Surgery. Okay, okay, so it isn't all that unknown to me. In fact this squirrel has been cut open more times than the number of years she has been alive. So that would be over 24 times. Ouch. Suddenly I'm glad they can knock me out before all that. Can you image what it must have been like in the old days of medicine? I think I'd rather have been shot and put out of my misery back in those days. Its making my tail twitch just thinking about it!
And while I am going through yet another surgery, I can't help but feel calm. I'm not sure why or how. Maybe I've finally gotten over my fears of hospitals and surgeries? Or maybe I've finally just accepted that I can't change what the Universe places on my life path?