incursion*

<Earlier. Below the gleaming spires, me.>

One of the scariest things I ever had to do was tell my father I was dropping extra biology and therefore might not become a brain surgeon.
I used to sit alone in the classroom, facing the wall where through high-up windows I could listen to my classmates playing rounders, in PE, where I was supposed to be. Paralysed, burdened by the weight of expectation that had singled me out, flagged me up, as different, as special. I did not want to sit alone. And I did not think I could succeed.

Now I am working my life into the ground, taking it all to heart; fighting for my job, and a career and a degree in public health, which after all, is a branch of medicine.

<Later. Unprompted, my mother, in passing>
In some ways you are like a small child, still in need of [my?] [someone's] wisdom and protection.

My heart jolted.

<Now>
Trying to prepare for the big meeting tomorrow.



*Don't know why this is the title but it is