Patience, patience

It is so hard to be patient, we always want to get going, get to the next thing. I sit in movies and other performances just wishing they were over, even when I am enjoying the show, but for what reason? I am going nowhere, so I remind myself to be in the now.

Last week, I think Thursday, I got a call from the doc's office telling me to get to French Hospital Radiology and they can get this CT scan done, so I go right away, get there at 2:07. And I wait, and wait, and wait, and finally they come in at 3:45 with 1.5 liters of dye I have to drink first, and they put in an IV line for the other dye that gets injected. I have to wait an hour after I drink the Super Slurpee, which is not slurpy, so chug-a-lug, bug.

Not bad but not tasty. The first half liter goes quick, but then my guts are in protest. I haven't eaten lunch, since I raced over for the test. Anyways, I get out of there around 5:15, stop at Subway, and fill the dead hole in my gullet. I have lost 15 pounds in the last 6 weeks, back down to 160, and losing a lot of muscle. I am such a lump. Typing this is tiring me out.

So I am a patient, and I must be patient. At least I always have something to read, and my phone can entertain me, it is so smart! Sometimes I try to get my hands on the remote for the waiting room TV, sometimes I do get it. The world of being a patient is not like reality. You hold no cards, and complaining will slow it all down. Now I am waiting for the results of that CT scan, and what it will tell us about the next steps. I am staying in my seat, nibbling rubbery popcorn, while the credits roll. I try to pronounce the names of the best boys and their buddies.

The Writing Through Cancer prompt this week was to write about the worlds we move in and out of, so I wrote this:

Worlds

The worlds that I live in
all have a place in my galaxy,
in my universe.
In my yard is a world of flowers and birds,
roses and gardenias.
The pink roses are their own little worlds,
smelling like a sorority house on Friday night,
like sirens of the garden.
My wife is my most special world;
her atmosphere is all I need,
she is all pink roses and fresia and honeysuckle,
drawing me into orbit about her.
My house is a world of puttering,
of fixing things, of gluing and cleaning
and making everything right.
When I head out my driveway I enter
a world of near chaos, barely kept alive
by the rules of the road,
all these asteroids of karma and aura
colliding in space.
When I enter the hospital world I
gird my loins, gear for battle.
In this world I must be most careful,
to protect what is left of me, my essence,
and not get lost in the pain and the
knowledege of what is to come.
Billions of galaxies, countless planets,
God everywhere, all-knowing, all-powerful,
worlds of worlds.
If energy cannot be created or destroyed,
when I leave these close-by worlds,
my essence will experience the
worlds beyond, no longer constrained by
worlds of hunger, thirst, love and pain.

So everyone be patient, be here now, enjoy this day in spite of the pain.