When did my life become a waiting room?
Like elastic under strain, my future has snapped back into the present and the horizon disappeared.
Life is shrinking, control is slipping, I am dependent on the whim of others.
Waiting;
For more tests
For biopsy results
For surgery (who would ever have dreamed of wishing away the days until the scalpel was wielded?)
And now
Waiting;
For recovery
For test results
For a jumble of unintelligible acronyms upon which my future depends (ER, PR, HER2, K167 now define and control my choices)
For ‘the plan’
Each wait becomes the total focus
Carries an expectation of relief from uncertainty
Just this last wait to be endured
And then;
Decisions to be made
A chance for activity
Passivity over
Progress towards the finish line (wherever that may be)
But;
The waits will continue
For treatment to begin
For treatment to finish
For yet more tests
Maybe more treatment
For the magical ‘all clear’
Will it end then?
Will the future stretch out again into the distance, to be filled with plans and hopes, dreams and fantasies.
Will I pick up the threads and march forward eagerly?
I hope so.
But;
I think a part of me will remain in the waiting room
Waiting for the return
Waiting for the uncertainty to begin again
