Desperately Waiting for The Waiting to Stop

Do you know what fucking sucks?

Waiting for the results of a test. It doesn’t what kind of test it is—a final exam, an STD test, a test that shows if you have fucking cancer or not—it sucks. The mind-numbing, time-consuming spirals that you throw yourself into suck. The mind mazes of “what if’s,” non-productive ponderings in passing minutes, days, hours, and weeks suck. You just feel stuck. Trapped in a cage of time.

I’m currently waiting and waiting and waiting for my thyroid biopsy to come back. And let me tell you, these seven to ten days feel like seven to ten years.

I can feel myself getting restless, being flippant, and snapping on others. It’s not their fault, and I am not totally comfortable sharing the reason why because I don’t want to hear the “awwww it’s going to be okay-s.” Part of me would take gnawing anxiety to the patronizing, and the frustration to the looks of sympathy.

Waiting is life’s form of torture. Not even just waiting for test results. Waiting for an answer to “Do you like me? Yes or no?” Waiting to hear if you got the job after an interview. Waiting to feel better while suffering through a cold. Waiting for the bus without an umbrella on a cold, rainy day. Wet, disheveled, and sad. All the waiting is necessary, but it doesn’t mean that it’s not aggravating.

Is it okay to just sit in the irritation and aggravation? I’ve been pondering this for myself the last three days. Yes my hobbies—nature walks, writing, and reading have been helping somewhat. But it’s like taking Tylenol for an ache, when the medicine wears off, the pain is still there.

And I’m just waiting for the waiting to go away.

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P.S. This was written in the past. By the time you read this, I’ll have my results and my waiting finally will be over.