The Waiting Game

Another theme that has dominated my life over the last six months is waiting.  Waiting in the ER.  Waiting for a test.  Waiting for a test result.  Waiting to see a doctor.  Waiting to see another doctor.  Waiting for surgery.  Waiting to be released. Waiting for lab results. 

You would think that once those lab results were in and things were good (though in the universe of the bad) that everything would be over and I would just get on with my life.

No, that isn't how this story is going. 

There was a complication, and no one could exactly tell me what it was or what had to be done or what would happen.  All that I knew was that there would be more waiting.  Waiting to have my kidney drained.  Waiting to have my nephroscapy tube inserted, then removed.  Waiting to have my stent inserted, then removed.  Waiting to see how things would hold up.

And all the while, a voice whispers inside of me, "Is this cancer?"

And then I have more pain.  And I wait to go to the doctor.  And then my doctor waits to see if the pain will go away.  And then my doctor orders a CT. 

And I wait for results.  And the same voice whispers inside of me, "Is this cancer?"

The waiting is difficult and draining.   And what I have learned about myself is that, sadly, I have very little ability to cope.  Did I miss that day in school where we learned coping mechanisms?  Was it part of the school curriculum in Sydney, Nova Scotia?

Alas, no.  It is only part of the curriculum of life.  And it is an apprenticeship.  You learn by doing.  Baptism by fire.

Through all this waiting, what I really want is someone to hold my hand through it, all the time.  And I am lucky, because I do have so many people to hold my hand.  Jaime and/or my parents drive me to my appointments and wait for my procedures to be done and take me home. I have friends that visit me and walk with me and e-mail me.  Friends that lend me books and send me pictures and meditations. 

And I am so very grateful.  Because not everyone has this.  While I was in the nursing station this morning, waiting for my CT scan, the nurse was talking to another patient who would be having a different procedure.  The nurse told her that she would need someone to drive her home and stay with her overnight.  "Oh, darn," she said, her voice crestfallen.  She didn't have someone to drive her home and stay with her overnight.  I don't have to worry about that.

But sometimes, despite all I have, I still feel alone and scared.  And I realized - and Jaime told me - that I need to be there for myself.  And I have to be enough for me.  And that is the hardest thing to learn. 

It is hard when your life is so full - full of work and important responsibilities and activities and social engagements and there is no time to stop.  What do you do when you are forced to stop? 

It's good to have a plan.  My son has a plan.  He would play games on his DS. 

Why did my plan not work out?  Why has my love of reading abandoned me?

I have discovered, fortunately, that there is one survival skill that is in me yet.  I have always wanted to write.  I always felt that I am meant to write.  And throughout this, that feeling has not abandoned me.  At first, I only wrote out pleas to God.  Then I wrote e-mails.  Now I am writing this blog.  Next, I hope I will start a short story.  Or a novel.  I feel that I can do that, no matter what happens in my own story.  I can do that while I wait.

Waiting is part of life.  Via rail may be right that one should make the journey the destination.   There will be a lot more waiting for me.  I will be able to either finish my novel or meet Godot.