waiting

It was a rough morning.

Mark and I rushed to the oncologist’s office–me inexplicably grim, Mark without his coffee.

And we sat. And sat. And sat.

When we finally saw Dr. Campbell’s face, almost a full two hours after our arrival, pretty much anything he said would have been met with tears on my part. I was a little fried.

So, when he came in not having even opened my file and tried to summarize the radiologist’s report while he read it, things were prepped for a tear-fest.

The radiologist’s report was actually fine. But just fine. No shrinkage, no growth, just fine.

And that made me cry. Not tears I could explain, just exhausted, worn-out, sick of waiting, sick of cancer, tired, anxious tears. I found myself fumbling around trying to tell him that actually I’m quite happy and I don’t think about cancer all the time and I sleep just fine and I really do enjoy life and and and.

All through these tears I couldn’t explain and couldn’t stop.

But, really, the news is nothing to cry about. I get to stay on the medicine I’m on. No shrinkage this time does not necessarily mean it couldn’t shrink more. Shrinking and arresting growth are both good. In fact, the nodule could be the dead tree stump in the yard and just sit there for years and years (I didn’t make that analogy up–we have yet to visit Dr. Campbell and not get an analogy like this.). We just have to…

wait.

That might involve some tears for me.

They’re nothing to get worried about. I really am quite happy. I really don’t think about cancer all the time.

I’m just not that good at waiting.

Perhaps you could tell Dr. Campbell.