In My Personal Waiting Room

Yesterday I would call D-Day if the day after tomorrow wasn’t a more decisive day for me, a Cancer Survivor.

Last Friday was the day I undertook another MRI test.

Now, I have no fear of them….But yet that doesn’t mean the process is comfortable. For an edginess definitely comes upon me during the 45-minute ordeal– in short, this the closest, I’ll ever come to prison, I know I can’t move and that I find unnatural.

In an MRI, every user is given a button to press if they feel they need attention or help. However, I know I will never press it and yet I most definitely hold tight that buzzer when undertaking an MRI.

Monday or Result day is definitely a day where my body and mind abounds with tension, especially as I sit waiting to be called into a private room. This the Judgement room…it is where one gets a sentence or is allowed to walk free!

Of course, as I’m Irish when entering that room, I’ll attempt to cover this tension; in the way one answers a How are you? With an I’m good, even though they may be having a terrible day. So I’ll answer the casual how are you? and maybe we’ll even have a minor debate about the weather – these are casual warm-up acts, that are pre-results.

Off course, I sometimes feel I can detect the result by the doctor’s body language. I search for hints of the result….as if their greeting, a possible smile and hello carry an ‘ all’s alright,’ signal.

It’s my fourth MRI scan and all I pray for is that it’s like the last one….that I get the ‘ Okay.’

So Monday, I often wrote how I detest you but we could be  friends.

Here’s hoping that I will walk out of that office with an unhide-able Smile.

And till then I’m hidden in my personal waiting room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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