Waiting. I'm no good at it.

They even call them "waiting rooms." You wait in the larger one until they take you to a smaller one, but either way you're waiting. I remember so many waiting rooms. When I was a kid and mom would take me to the clinic (which we nicknamed "the blood and bucket") and we finally made it to the small waiting room, she and I would open all the drawers and giggle hysterically. I confess that I have done this as an adult. Try not to judge.

But there's waiting that is happening outside of those rooms, too. And I've been doing a lot of it since 7/9. Waiting for first mammogram results. Then waiting for the day for the ultrasound. Waiting for email responses from cancer support people. Waiting for the day of the MRI. Waiting for the appointment with the surgeon. Waiting for the PET scan (which is today). 

But I think the next 24 hours of waiting will be the most difficult, because this appointment with the oncologist could be for all the marbles.

It's tough to wait. To pass the time I putter, I clean, I fold clothes, I rearrange furniture. Being physically active gets my mind off it. But, in between or even during activities like folding clothes, my mind drifts back to it: I have cancer, I'm terrified. 

Then Psalm 27 shows up. 

"I believe I shall see the LORD’s goodness in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD, take courage; be stouthearted, wait for the LORD!" (v 13-14)

So today in waiting rooms I'm going to wait for the Lord. 

I will envision the Lord showing up in the form of a nurse to take me to the next room to wait for the Lord. When I'm lying in the PET scanner, I'll wait for the Lord to show up in the form of another medical professional to tell me it's over. Then I'll wait for the Lord in the form of the oncologist who will tell me whatever he's going to tell me.

If I keep waiting for him, instead of waiting for "bad news" I just might be able to be stouthearted.