The Games People Play

Will’s biopsy has been postponed till tomorrow for some reason. When the imaging clinic called him this morning, they told him that they’d have done it today if he’d still been in the hospital; but since he isn’t, they needed to reschedule.

Well, now isn’t THAT great. Not only do we have to wait another day to get this done—and to find out just how bad things really are—everything else, including the oncologist, is probably going to be thrown off schedule. And I have to work this Friday, so if they have to reschedule, it’ll have to wait till the late afternoon because I am NOT going to let him go into that appointment alone.

I wish this brief delay didn’t irritate me so much, but it does. I want to know NOW so we can prepare for whatever is to come. And I wonder how people can play games like this with peoples’ lives. Not that one day is going to make a difference in the course of Will’s illness, but it does make a difference to me, dammit!

Will, for his part, is philosophical about it as usual; the only thing that bothers him is the fact that he has to fast from midnight till 1 PM tomorrow, not just because he’ll be as hungry as a bear but because his blood sugar levels are sure to plunge. Fortunately, they will allow him clear juices to keep him going until it’s time for the biopsy.

And again…….I look at this man, who is doing dishes as we speak and has already walked the dog on her appointed rounds, and I’m having an even harder time today seeing him as someone with a terminal illness. Maybe this really IS a good omen, or maybe it’s merely the calm before the storm……but I can’t let myself get that far ahead. I know this, but it’s still hard not to try to use my crystal ball to peer into the future.

Yet as scared as I still am, I realize that Will is carrying on with his life, just as though he didn’t have the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. He’s not moping around, waiting for the world to crash in on him; he’s living as if he expects to go on for years and years. He’s building his Sherman tank model and getting ready for our day out, which is full of enjoyable activities. So what else can I do but go with him on this optimistic journey?

Of course, all this could be a wicked game designed by the Fates to string us along. Maybe we’re just playing our own games to distract ourselves from the sad reality of Will’s situation, and to put off the inevitable. But I don’t really believe in fate so much as I do in God, and I believe He is giving us this time to strengthen the bond between us so that we’ll be able to rely on Him, as well as each other, when the dark days come.

Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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