Photo by Natalia Soto on Unsplash

Waiting is such a difficult thing. I have been waiting for weeks to have surgery that will hopefully relieve some of the symptoms I am having from an acoustic neuroma. I don’t know how hard the surgery will be (How long will I be unconscious? How difficult will the microsurgery be? What complications might appear?) I don’t know what I will be feelings after it’s over. (How nauseous will I be? How manageable will the pain be? How long will it take before I can come home? Will I be safe to walk on my own?)

I was lucky; my surgery was scheduled only four weeks after I met my neurosurgeon.

Only four long, scary, challenging weeks. I am trying as hard as I can to stay busy. I am playing my violin, I am reading. I still play with and watch the grandkids. I am visiting local farmers markets and keeping up with news.

None of that matters.

I wake up scared and I spend all day trying to distract myself.

But I feel stuck. I feel helpless and immobilized.

I am like a tiny bug, trapped within a drop of amber, frozen in time and place.

Waiting.

I am a very very patient Nonni and was a very patient teacher.

I am NOT a patient patient. Let’s get it done. I want that tumor out of there. I want it out NOW. I want it gone so I can begin the next phase of life, whatever it looks like. I am ready to be partially deaf. I am ready to be off balance and to have a slightly droopy smile, all of which is likely.

I just can’t stand the waiting. Sitting still in my bubble of amber, unable to move forward, unable to help myself.

Sigh.

Maybe I’ll check out some online sales.