I tried. I really did.

Truly. It is just getting to be so hard.

My whole life seems to be about waiting or about going in for medical tests.

The waiting is hard. And yet, my first instinct when the phone finally rings and it is that number, the one that I know will be the test results?

I want to fling the phone across the room and run away.

Because it is never good news anymore. My blood counts are always off. I have a hernia. I never knew that and I could have lived happily not knowing this. Blood clots came to the party while we were looking for cancer.

It was like knowing that the person you just hate is going to be at the party and so you are cranky about being there, but to top it all off, someone sits next to you and you find out that you hate them almost as much and worse....they really, really like you and want to hang out. 

The results were supposed to be back in two days. It is two days. So.

Waiting. 

And that phone will ring and my stomach, already in knots, will feel as if it has been punched. I will fumble with the phone, probably even drop it on the floor. I will go to turn to the TV down and somehow be unable to remember where the mute button is on the remote. I will look wildly outside and think to myself...

Please. Just this once. Please. 

"Hello? Yes, this is she...."

Boom.