I am aware that my life can change in a half second when the doctor enters the room. While I wait for the results, my life stands still. I have gained some territory, though. I don’t count down three months ahead of time like I used to. It is a frequent passing thought, nevertheless; never buried too deep. Still I manage to put it out of my mind and I carry on normally until the day before when all bets are off and I am out of control. The panic overtakes my senses. I function superficially until the pressure inside of me feels like a bomb about to go off. Conversations around me are a deafening noise I can’t take. I wring my hands trying to control my anxiety and my urge to yell ‘SHUT UP!!!” to whomever is trying their darnest to keep me company.
It’s a tough place to be – their place - not mine. I say it’s tougher on them because I have no choice but to be here and at least I understand what I feel. They have a choice and they choose to be here with me not understanding what I am feeling and to be the target of unwarranted bursts of anger is disconcerting, at best.
I look for signs to predict my results. I am careful of my routine, it cannot be broken nor altered. I carefully step out of the car, the same foot every time. I call the same people; pray the same prayers, but what to do when the mind has a mind of its own and it creates images you want to shut down? I close my eyes tightly trying to rid off of the bad thoughts as if I didn’t realize they have already taken possession of my entire self.
I look around and silently stare at the ones that seem so calm. I seem calm. Are they as afraid as I am? Did it get easier for them? I wonder. I wonder if today is just another day, because for me, it is not. It is like the first time.