i am currently comfortable. the most comfortable—in fact—that ive been in twelve days; during which time my insides and mental stability have been wrenched and burned as the result of an as-yet undiagnosed medical condition resulting from some complication in my cholecyst—my gallbladder.
it is expected. my mother had choleliths (gallstones) and a subsequent cholecystectomy (removal of the gallbladder). her grandmother also had similar complications. what exactly—i dont know.
the aforementioned train of thought was just interrupted by my name being called by a doctor at the boundary between me and where the real fun is. i just got an IV in my arm. and—hence the title—i am currently in a waiting room.
sitting here writing—for the first time about my life in what seems to be forever—awaiting a hepatobiliary imino-diacetic acid scan. it will test the functioning of my liver with respect to my gallbladder and small intestine, and it will subsequently test the functioning of my gallbladder with respect to my small intestine.
and so all of that other stuff was just history. whatever. point being: after being pained for consecutive days on end, for what is at least the third time in four months, i basically got mentally fucked up enough to say, "enough is enough" and start getting the medical ball rolling, so to speak.
and so it is.
the point of this particular written monologue has to do with the title itself: waiting rooms.
most people dread them: the wait. the other patients. the wait. the paperwork.
but in the past three years, i have found a particular peace in waiting rooms. typically because it was never the case that i was in there for my own personal health. in the past three years, it was always me escorting my beloved residents to basset healthcare in cooperstown, or basset healthcare in herkimer, or the slocum-dickson medical group in utica, or saint elizabeth’s hospital in utica, or saint luke’s hospital in utica, or some damned place in syracuse. and so on.
and while they waited, i got to take what could certainly be called a well-deserved break from the seeming nonstop craziness back at the nursing home—which i so thrived on—and could still thrive on.
and though i enjoyed every second that i ran around that nursing home—making beds, ambulating residents, escorting residents to physical therapy, passing nourishments, running errands—going on a transport typically meant a scenic drive, reading vonnegut in the waiting room, learning things in the examination room, and a scenic ride back to the nursing home.
it was a peaceful oasis in the middle of a busy day.
and i suppose thats why yesterday, while waiting for a putative diagnosis (which i already suspected, mind you), and now, while waiting to get jazzed with technetium 99m—a radioactive tracer—i am entirely at peace.
i dont even feel any pain.
oh the mysterious ways that the past can comfort the present.
story of my life the for past three months.