Sometimes it’s hoping the nurse would hurry-up.
Sometimes it’s wondering why she won’t slow down!
Sometimes it’s wishing the results would yield sooner.
Sometimes it’s pleading they never yield at all.
Sometimes it is staring at your phone waiting for the call.
Sometimes it is seeing the collections’ phone number and wondering how it’s already been 30-days.
Sometimes it’s counting the hours for the 72-hour post infusion window to close.
Sometimes it’s counting the breaths, “In and out Bubba, just like that,” while the needle slides into his spinal column.
Sometimes it’s counting pokes with colored beads.
Sometimes it’s realizing you mis-counted and wondering if it matters.
Sometimes it’s wondering if you can get out of clinic soon enough to beat traffic.
Sometimes it’s hoping the traffic backs-up so you can stare at the middle distance a while longer.
Sometimes it is considering it’s been over 1 year since Sweet Emily, or 18 months since infusion.
Sometimes it feels like just yesterday, and sometimes it feels like forever ago.
Sometimes it’s questioning if you imagined the whole damn thing.
Sometimes it’s wishing you had.
Sometimes it’s wondering how its been 1631 days since everything turned inside out.
Sometimes it’s wondering how many more days we have before it turns inside out again.
Sometimes it’s watching the second hand tick on the clock in the waiting room.
Sometimes it’s willing the doctor to just spit it out already.
Sometimes it’s realizing you haven’t thought about it all day.
Sometimes it’s the suffocation of not being able to think of a single other thing.
Sometimes it’s watching the sunrise over the Philly skyline and wondering how we got here.
Sometimes it’s watching the sunset over the ballfields and realizing time is all we ever had.
-‘
For 1,631 days all we have had is time.
Time to wait, time to worry, time to heal, time to fear, time to trust, time to pray that it all works out, time to see that it didn’t, time to wonder, time to rage, time to lay on the kitchen floor, time to drag everyone through the airport, time to make sense, time to realize there is no sense to be made.
All we have had is time.
All we have is time.
All we have is today.
All we have is this moment.
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Next, I will tell the story of Make-a-Wish when all of time stood still.
Skip ahead to read about Make a Wish here: Part 1 and then Part 2. Or find all posts under the Make-a-Wish category.
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