Someone I love, that I care about very deeply, is about to have life-changing surgery. And I have been reflecting on what makes us worry…. Because that is undoubtedly what I will do. I will worry for both my friend and their family. i will worry that the operation goes exactly as planned. Whatever I am doing will be punctuated by these thoughts.

So what makes us anxious, fearful even. How do I feel when I worry? Literally. What is going on in my body? What is worrying after all? It is thinking excessively, to the exclusion of pretty much all else, about one particular issue. Our minds go into overdrive, as we obsess about what is going to happen and worse, about what “might happen”. And that’s it, isn’t it? We humans seem to be programmed to expect the worst not the best? To speculate on the most extreme, awful outcome rather than the most beneficial.

Sometimes, of course, the worry can be helpful. If I am worrying about a job interview, it might encourage me to research the company really thoroughly, so I can answer any question put to me.
If I have an exam to sit, I may study harder and therefore do well. But so much more often we worry about a meeting, whether personal or business, and we are tongue-tied and awkward and do not present ourselves in the right light.

Some years ago now I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. This was a bitter pill to swallow for someone who participated in most sports. Quite well, I might add. But the diagnosis was not half as hard to face as the wait to be scanned. In those days few hospitals had MRI Scans. I had to wait a week. It seemed interminable.

During that week, my family and I considered most options that corresponded to the symptoms. The mutual conclusion seemed to be that I had a brain tumour. So when I got the diagnosis, I was relieved, ecstatic. Even though I was faced with a chronic illness. And one that would prove frustrating, fickle, infuriating.

Year on year, I have seen this illness eat little bits of my nervous system away. Year on year, I am challenged by the latest curve ball it throws me. I am currently in a wheelchair but that does not stop me from attempting to walk just a little each day. Sometimes it’s just two steps. The next day, I might make it clean across the room. Each attempt feels like a little triumph. And, next week I check myself in to a centre that specialises in Neurological Rehabilitation, to have targeted physiotherapy. A course of stretches and exercises designed for me alone! How cool is that? How positive could the outcome be? Come what may, I will be physically fitter, ergo better.

So I commit myself here, in this post, to one thing. I bind myself to this oath. I promise that when my friend DOES go under that knife, that I will NOT worry. I will, instead, send happy thoughts their way. Concentrate on the best of all possible conclusions to the surgery. What wishful thinking should be…the desire to visit the best of outcomes on this person I love. You will be fitter, healthier, stronger than ever, and I will be right beside you to cheer you on!