I write about my life and life itself seen through my eyes for who can write through the experiences of others if not their own?

Wednesday, December 14, 2016

The Day Of

I made the appointment change and hang up hastily. I would make a second call once I realized the appointment date was wrong.

“Yes, Mrs. Loor, I remember you. Did something come up?
My head asks “why does he remember me? Is there something in my file?”
“No. I just need the appointment changed to Wednesday.”
“Is Monday not okay then?”
I want to tell him it’s not okay because…because it cannot be on Monday. It must be on Wednesday.
“Let me see if the Doctor has something on Tuesday”
“Not Tuesday. Wednesday, please” – I’m fighting the tears.
I want to yell it must be on Wednesday. All good reports have been on Wednesday, but I won’t.
He won’t understand. No one would.
“One second, please”
I hold my breath and silently wish there are no appointments. It can wait until after Christmas. It has always been good after Christmas.
“All set Mrs. Loor”.
It’s show time. The day of.
Rene picks me up. “I’m warming up your car”
“My car? Why my car? It’s always your car. I’ll put gas, I’ll bring the EZ Pass…it’s always your car”
He knows. He has done this for many years.
Now we are there. My name is not on the chart. The appointment time is wrong. They agree to squeeze me in realizing their mistake, but it’s two hour later, so late now it’s time for my follow up doctor’s appointment.
I can make it to my appointment if I go directly, but I have not had my coffee. I must have my coffee. We rush for that cup of Dunkin Donuts that might turn the tables in my favor. I smile as we run back to the doctor’s office realizing the stupidity of my superstition.
Every nod, every smile, every look in that office will be judged by me trying to read my results before I get them.
It’s a regular day, a common day for most, but not for me. Today my life could change. My life stands still until the doctor enters the door with the results of my catscan in his hands.
I will breath in a deep sigh of relief when he tells me the results are good.
I will celebrate the same way I do. My doctor smiles as I head out the door. He knows the routine. I cannot disrupt it. 
I’ll make the same phone calls as I leave and I’ll thank God for this. Yes, I thank God for being able to be here, to do this, to have a chance denied to others. This chance has been given to me, and I embrace it.