Here I sit.
Day 2 of post melanoma day.
I am waiting very impatiently on the call.
The call that will determine what happens next and whether my biopsy is clean enough I can be considered lucky.
I ignore most calls. Ok, I ignore 99% of calls and my voicemail is ALWAYS full.
I not so secretly wish people could only text me.
Yet here I am … willing my phone to ring.
I need it to ring. I need to know.
It could happen any minute now and I am terrified and tired of the wait at the same time. I just want the wait to be over.
My stomach is tied up like balloon animals and I feel like any moment my heart will jump and land squarely my throat.
I still really haven’t told more than a few people about what’s happening. I don’t know if it has helped or hindered. I don’t want anyone making a big deal about the C word.
If I talk about it, out loud, it will be real. I don’t think I’m ready for real cancer just yet.
I am a planner. A do or don’t kinda woman. I don’t like to half ass anything and I do not like to wait. I like punctuality and plans. I like a clear destination ahead.
I am the kind of person who gets road rage at WalMart and refuses to go unless it is absolutely necessary. My patience when I need or want something to happen is so thin. Possibly too thin for my own good.
Waiting for others to do something for me is excruciating. Not knowing is torture.
Waiting for this call will likely kill me long before any potential diagnosis could.
I can only imagine the countless people before me who waiting with shaking hands and worried faces. With family and friends telling them it would be alright, no matter what.
I need to make a plan to make it alright for myself. First step … I need the phone to ring.