Pacing the Floor

I took an extremely important test yesterday. A test that was very weird at times. At one time I’m sure I looked like something from another planet. I had on this blue mask with a tube hanging from it and traveling down to tanks that were filled with I don’t know what. Then I had to blow into a tube with my nose clamped shut with this awful little, hurtful, and despicable clamp. The computer measured how much I was blowing. I peaked around the nurse to see the results; all I saw were a bunch of black numbers and red numbers. Nothing that made sense to me, sometimes I wish I had a nursing degree instead of a psychology degree. Then I had wires hooked up to places that only I should see. So many wires and then I was told I had to ride a stationary bike for has long as I could. Well, this is easy; I have ridden one of these for hours. I can pump out some miles on a bike. I can get this over with and be on my way. I start the pedaling and she tells me to slow down, see I have it under control. I am good at this pedaling and she says I’m doing great.

Soon I begin to sweat, I begin to feel my chest tightening up, and the mask thing is getting uncomfortable. My legs, what’s wrong with them. They can’t be tried all ready, we have several more miles to pump out; I see the numbers begin to fall. I try to pedal faster. It’s not working. My breath is leaving me. I am getting really tired; my body wants to stop. I want to pedal on, she ask me how I’m doing. I tell her that my chest hurts and the legs are tired. She sees that my breathing is hard. She makes me stop. I feel like I’m going to get sick to my stomach, my arms are numb and I’m sweating like I pumped out miles. I want to cry, I can’t cry in front of her. She doesn’t understand that the stationary bike was child’s play for me. She is busy writing up notes and getting the report ready for the doctor. I ask when I can get the report. She said she would give it to the doctor that day. Then the doctor would call.

Well, it’s today, Tuesday, and I have not received my phone call. I have been on pins and needles all day. I have paced a hole in the hallway floor. I have tried to rest in the bed, only to have my mind wander into the abyss of believing the worse. I have tried to watch the television, but it’s boring me. My head is chattering nonstop with the unknown. My sister is sending me funny stories by text to keep me smiling. I have three Hubs started but can’t find the words to finish them. All I can do is think the worse and wait for that phone to ring. Whoever said that patient is a virtue was not waiting on test results that are going to tell you how much living you have. Just to think I would not be doing this today if I had not picked up that cigarette, behind the school, with my friend and those two other boys.

I could be out shopping for my Thanksgiving meal right now, or picking up a new outfit to wear. I could be chasing around my Grandson. I could be at the gym, instead I’m pacing the floor waiting to see how much I have damaged my heart and lungs.