This is a short fill in chapter in preparation for the event. It is built on the feelings I had when I was at this point — the classic short film “Incident at Owl Creek” has a similar feel. A sort of wakening dream quality — where you’re hurling toward the point you’ve been waiting for all your life and yet it doesn’t seem real.

“Right, Jenny — Beth, let’s sit down and see if we have everything we need.” Dad was into final mustering of the clan and checking ground zero was the function.

“Have you got your lists?” He said shaking his to show he was thus encumbered.
I shook mine at him like a shaman shakes a bag of bones and mum just looked through her eyebrows at him.

“Ok ok, just checking…. Now have you ticked off the items,” he looked at me over the top of his reading glasses like a latter day Mr Pickles.

“Look dad, this is the most important weekend of my life, do you really think I’m going to purposefully mess this up? I have a vested interest in not forgetting anything. Besides, I only have my clothes to pack, mummy said she was going to make sure all my ‘necessaries’ were going to be in that green bag over there,” I pointed to a bulging bag with wheels which had a sticker on the side with 24 lbs written on it in crayon — well it was a blunt pencil by the looks, but I was reminded of ‘Eric the half a bee’ halibut license skit from Monty Python. It was as relevant —we weren’t going to Kamchatka — just to the most central point of the richest nations in Europe where anything was available almost anytime.

Dad sighed and relented, “Ok does anyone have anything missing that they think they’re going to need over the next two weeks?”

We shook our heads.

“Bags all packed?”

We nodded our heads.

“Clothes for the journey laid out?”

We nodded our heads.

I smirked, “Ok daddy, I haven’t seen you nod to any of the above so are your things all laid out too?”

“No they’re not, they’re in my drawer and I have checked them off.” He replied smugly.

“Passports?” I asked.

Daddy pointed to the table — “Tickets are there in the envelopes too.”

“Chequebook?”

He patted his pocket.

“Are you wearing those tomorrow then?”
“No, I’m wearing my jeans, they’re more comfy.”

“I’d suggest putting the chequebook on the table with your passport then.” I took a breath, “Car keys?” I looked Daddy in the eye.

He sighed, got up and put his car keys and chequebook on the table. “Satisfied missy?” His chagrin was measureable. “Who’s organising who here anyway?” He queried frowning.

“We the committee, have taken it upon ourselves to check that all is properly carried out in an open and forthright manner so that all of us may be satisfied that the job has been worthily and well done.” I pulled at my imaginary braces and frowned at the questioner. “Like I said Daddy, I have a vested interest in making sure you get it right the first time.”

Dad smiled and sat down, “Thank goodness someone is old enough to start taking some responsibility. Meeting is adjourned.” He sprang up and uttered mum’s magic words, “Gin and tonic dear?”

Soon after that I was lying awake in bed remembering saying bye to Carol and Joanne and how they’d shed a tear and wished me luck. I promised to ring them after the op which was on Christmas Eve. I said not to worry if they didn’t hear as the connection might be hard to get on that day. They made me promise to try — so I had.
I put it on my list for mum and dad to do after I was back in the ward or wherever, I didn’t think I’d be up to much after the op. ( I didn’t know how right I would be!).

Now I’m lying here still awake two hours later. I got up and went to look for a cup of chocolate or something — mum and dad had retired but there was a light under their door. I wasn’t game to knock just in case, so I went and made myself a cuppa.

It was a good idea — I fell asleep soon after I drank it.

It was still dark when I came too but it was getting light — there was no point in trying to sleep in, my mind was twirling like a parasol. Small noises downstairs said that someone was already up — so it was time I fronted up.
I staggered through to the bathroom and relieved myself as the water warmed in the shower. I slipped of my robe and jammies and slipped into the warm stream of water.

I was soaping myself up when I realised that in one or two showers, there’d be less to dry! I looked down at the little vestiges that were left. “Goodbye little boy bits, I’m sorry that you weren’t allowed to get up to much.” I felt a tear rise but I shook it off, I wasn’t really doing anything more than feeling sorry for myself and that is a losing game every time. I finished up and dressed ready for the trip — loose jeans over thick tights and three layers up top! It’s cold in Switzerland and Jeans aren’t actually that warm unless you have layers under them.

As I descended the stairs, a warm waft of bacon aroma tickled my nostrils and I did the proverbial sniffing my way into the kitchen — “Yum, that smells so great first thing in the morning.”
“Good morning Pat, sleep well?” Mum smiled over at me as she dropped two slices into the toaster.

“Well, only after I came down and made myself some cocoa.” I said as I wrapped my arms round her waist in a morning hug — she was still facing the stove so it was just a warm greeting. I looked over her shoulder to see if she was doing tomatoes and mushrooms — a real treat… She was.

“Oh even more yum — ‘matoes and mushies, I’ll set the table — oh goddess of breakfast for weary travellers.”

“You haven’t been anywhere yet.” She replied laughing.

“I journeyed far from the Land of Nod to partake of this feast, I’ll have you know. I suffered hot rain and many encumbrances to be thus present.”

“You mean you had a shower and came downstairs.” She grinned and shook her head.

“One egg or two?”

“Definitely two, if it please your cookship.” I popped the lid off the teapot to check if it was steeped enough.

Dad took this opportunity to make his presence and we soon sat down to a wonderful English Breakfast.

“One more breakfast to go, kiddo, how’re ye feeling?” Dad smiled at me as he thrust some egg soaked bacon towards his face.

“Tentatively optimistic about sums it up. I can’t see anything that might upset the applecart.” I sliced off some toast and pied it with fried tomato. “As long as Nigel makes it on time, there’s no reason we should have the slightest worry..”

“Oh God, don’t say things like that, I’d better go and ring him to check he’s up and about.” Mum pulled her napkin off her lap and dried her mouth, ready to make the call.

“For God’s sake woman — he has time to WALK here. He’s not due for three hours and he only lives 25 minutes away.” Dad reached out and stopped mum from rising by applying pressure to her shoulder.

“You’re quite right,” she said, “I’m just wound up I suppose.” She resumed eating.

“I’ll wash up mum, you go and have a nice relaxing bath and get ready.” I offered, hoping it would get her mind off the day. It seemed silly really; it should be me suffering from the dropsies, not her. But mums are made to worry aren’t they?

Dad went out and checked the weather. It was 11 degrees and just a bit damp, mostly from dew. The sky was clearing and it would be a fantastic day to fly anywhere. I was really looking forward to seeing the Alps in this weather. I hope it is as clear there as it is here.

I could hear dad talking to someone and when he came in, Nigel was behind him. He’d woken early and decided to get moving. He looked over at me and the warmth in his eyes was just picturebook. He walked over and gave me a huge hug. “How’re doin’ baby girl?” He snuggled into my warm neck and gave me a really big squeeze.
“You smell like warm biscuits, and lavender soap.” He held me out at arms length and looked at me, “And you look awesome.”

Mum called down, surprise evident in her voice, “Is that Nigel?”

“Yes.” We all answered together, laughing.

“Thank you for relieving your mum of the worry of waiting for you.” She sang out. “I’ll see you after my bath.”

We wandered through and I made some toast and coffee for him while he regaled us with his exploits and sexual conquests from the last three months. It didn’t take long.
In fact the kettle had only just boiled when he was finished!

It seems the Uni was plagued by a rash of Ugly and most of the girls had caught it. Together with the work load it was hard to find time to drink enough beer to make at least one of them seem pretty enough to date. I smacked him round the ear to chastise him for his Chauvinistic attitude.

“Well I came home to find my ex-brother is prettier than any of the girls at uni. A sorry state indeed.” I forgave him for his indiscretion as it was, after all, a compliment.

Soon, Nigel had lugged all the bags out to the car and packed them neatly in the boot. Mum appeared looking refreshed and made up for the day. She fussed over Nige for a bit then settled to read the paper for a while.

Suddenly it was time to go. This is it. Zero Hour. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Dad locked the door. Rusty had already gone over to the neighbour’s and was happy to do so considering the huge bone that always went with the transfer.
“Mount up, guys and gals.” Dad tried to be jovial — he’d just seen the sick look on my face. “Boys in the front, girls in back.”

It passed in a dream, the drive, the airport, checking in, they barely looked at my passport — I hadn’t even considered it might be odd.
The plane hurtled down the runway and leapt into the air like a dog chasing a cat up a tree. I didn’t have time to be nervous; everything was passing in a blur. Mum felt my brow at some point — “you ok honey?” from the stewardess.

I looked out over the Alps — 15 minutes out from Geneva Airport — still not taking much in but still able to marvel at the scene. The Alps. My Goodness, they were so beautiful; all bathed in icing sugar and brilliant in the sun.
Then we were down and undoing our seat belts.

Then next time I got on a plane, I would be fully female. Wow. In a week!

Dad took up the front and mum the rear, guiding me stumbling towards the door. I couldn’t shake this feeling of distance — dream like — unreal.
“Come on girl, frame yourself.” Mum chivvied me up the aisle. “You’re like a fart in a trance.”

As I stepped onto the tarmac, the chilled wind whistled round me and I started to come round. By the time we were in the baggage area, I had returned from my space journey. How weird is that?

“Welcome back,” My mum had noticed my eyes unglazing.

“Um, yeah, right. I was away with the fairies. Like there was no control. No idea why.” I shrugged off the moment that had taken two hours and we gathered our luggage onto a trolley and made for Douanne (customs).

The hotel was gorgeous sat back from the Lake but with a view. It was only a two minute walk from the Clinic so we’d be able to walk it on Monday morning no problem if there wasn’t a taxi available. That would be gallows sort of walk, I pondered. Then thought the opposite — more like a Gateway to the next part of my life.

It was getting late by now and the lift sped us down for a lovely meal. The last big meal I would have for a few days.
I had a wonderful Italian meal with a turkey schnitzel — how festive season is that?!
Followed by tiramisu — which I thought was Japanese until I tasted the coffee liqueur!
I even had a cup of expresso coffee in a tiny cup — it was wonderfully bitter and sweet at the same time.

I retired early — trying to get my beauty sleep — tomorrow was going to be a doozy.
I was sharing a room with mum and dad — it was a family room with two large doubles in it. They thought it would be a good idea as I would be in the hospital for most of the stay and if I was here, they could keep an eye on me too.
I took a while to get to sleep — I guess the coffee and the environment and the emotional state of play had a little to do with that.

Mum and dad went downstairs for a while after I was settled, I didn’t hear them return so I must have dropped off.

Tomorrow…..