I know this may be difficult to believe (ha!) but I have never been the world’s most patient person. Some might even call lack of patience my fatal flaw. It is something I have worked on my entire life but I’ll tell you, right now, at this very moment, my patience (or lack thereof) is being tested. As is my mindset, my beliefs and my self-control.

Because I am now languishing in that suspended limbo-land of … The Wait.

I endured the PET Scan last Thursday. I only say “endure” because you are asked to lie absolutely still with your arms stretched above your head (holding pegs) for 20 minutes (this is after they inject you with radioactive dye and you have a one-hour non-sensory nap). Even with Lorazepam mellowing me out, my neck and shoulders were screaming by Minute 17. By Minute 18 I was ready to abandon the entire exercise and bolt out of the hospital. By Minute 19 I convinced myself I could hang on with concentrated yoga breathing and at the end, when the machine stopped and I could actually stretch, I thanked God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, all the angels and (of course) the technician.

No one told me when I might receive results. Dr. Google informed me it might take up to two weeks. The hospital pamphlet advised that, even though I have signed up (and paid) to receive my tests, x-rays and scans, I should resist the urge to look. Because unless explained by a professional, I could cause myself unnecessary anguish.

Fair enough. Who needs more anguish?

Except waiting is anguish. Or it can be.

My weekend was absolutely fine because I KNEW there would be no results forthcoming. It was almost like a vacation. A mini-holiday from “the possibility of cancer” since I feel great and no news is good news.

But now it is Monday. And I suppose anything could happen at any time.

I might be told my lung tumour lit up, it is malignant and now we plan the surgery to remove it.

I might be told other parts of my anatomy lit up and holy shit … that’s just ugly news all around

I might be told nothing lit up and now we plan the biopsy to further test the lung tumour.

Alas (poor me) there is no chance (at this point) for an ALL-CLEAR!

And so … I wait (and write because I don’t know what I’m thinking until I write it down.)

And I remind myself that The Wait is not my life and therefore will not consume by life. I will continue to LIVE. Consciously. And when The Anxiety rears its persistent head, I will banish it with more yoga breaths. When The Fear takes hold I will ignore it and concentrate on The Joy. When The What If starts clamouring, I will answer with optimism – the Positive What If. And when the phone call comes, I will take more deep breaths and remind myself that I am on a journey. A full-life journey. As is everyone else. Whatever happens now – and next – is as uncertain for me as every other vulnerable soul living today.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again – no one is guaranteed anything. When it comes right down to it, The Wait may seem like a more immediate and concrete issue for me than for you, but the truth is we are all in the same lineup, all waiting for different things, all learning patience, presence and gratitude.

Perhaps there is joy in the waiting … if we want to find it.