The Waiting Game

Actually, waiting isn’t a game.  And it most often isn’t fun.  Personally I am terrible at waiting.  Waiting in line.  Waiting for a call.  Waiting for an email.  Waiting in traffic.  Just makes me anxious thinking about it… I’ve learned to chill to a certain extent but past my “magic marker” I get agitated, anxious, frustrated and even angry.

Today I read a poignant Caring Bridge post by a friend of mine going through the ravages of cancer. She talked of how life with cancer consists mostly of “waiting”. Waiting for the diagnosis, waiting for the surgery, waiting for the chemo to start, waiting for the chemo to end, and most of all waiting for the pain to dissipate, for energy to return and life to go back to normal.

Cancer consumes your life and the lives of those you love and leaves you all simply waiting for something to change.

Tristan also waits.  He’s been waiting for over 6 years now. He waited for a diagnosis and got it just in time for his 16th birthday.  He waited for surgery and waited for the results.  He waited for chemo and waited for it to be over. He waited to stop vomitting and waited to stop feeling like he’d been hit by a truck.  He waited for his hair to grow back and he waited to have energy to get through the day.  He put his teen life on “hold” as he waited for these all these things to pass and it seemed that his waiting was done.

But it wasn’t.  The cancer came back and he waited for more diagnoses, more treatment, more surgery, more pain, more vomitting, more limpid, vaccuous, energyless days.  Then more surgery, more treatment, more diagnoses and all the waiting that goes with it.

Now Tristan waits to “get on with his life” because the pain and the energy zaps rule like potentates… one day giving him freedom and the next day cutting him to the ground. Tristan waits to know if he can continue treatment in Edmonton. Waits to know if the cancer will become more aggressive. Waits as his family try to fundraise a mountain dollars to give him a chance to try a different therapy, a chance to hope, a chance to move past this interminable “waiting pattern” he’s been locked into. We know he can’t wait for much longer… he’s waited for so long….

We know once he tries the new therapy he will also be waiting to see if it’s successful.

I think we’d rather be in that last waiting room…

Photo by Tristan "Waiting for Spring"

~ by tristansgiftofhope on January 8, 2012.

2 Responses to “The Waiting Game”

  1. I am a friend of Michelle’s in Budapest and am waiting with you all. Blessings, Mary Jill

  2. If I wake up in the night I think of Tristan and I have never met him. My heart is breaking for him and his supportive family. God bless them all. Thank you for writing this well timed piece. I think it speaks to all of us.

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