Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The Return of Waiting

Okay, so I had the mammogram last night at about 7, which would have been too late for the place to have called my doctor if they saw a big, whopping tumor then. So that means I would get the call today.

So every time I come back from the ladies' room I creep up on my desk holding my breath until I see whether or not there's a message light on my phone. And if there's a message light, I keep holding my breath until I retreive the message. I'm getting good at holding my breath. They tell you to hold your breath while the mammogram machine is taking the ex-ray. I remained as motionless as a statue, lest a blur on the film obscure something that could kill me.

Then I figured, maybe they don't know I'm in my office and they called my house. "No new messages," the machine said. Relieved, I went out for a walk at lunchtime. I justified a new handbag, a copy of Mojo Classic's "Summer of Love" special, and a bag of candy. I deserve this, to make up for the pain of waiting, I tell myself. Followed by telling myself, "Oh, if I have to get surgery, chemo and radiation I may lose time from work, so I'd better not buy anything."

This is a familiar feeling, this waiting. After Jim died, people were asking me, "How did you function through all that, and through all your own scares?" I functioned through a List of Things To Do. I multi-tasked, to show the anxiety I was stronger than it was. And I figured, whether the news is good or bad, at least I have all these things done.

It's time to go wax the Pentagon.

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