results

i'm glad i know
how hard it is to wait.
it can only make me a better nurse.
slightly more crazed and frayed, maybe
come to think of it though
that's how i'd describe some of the best nurses i know.

the hell of waiting for results
where against all psychic counsel, your heart rate rises and your breathing is shallow
and your bowels churn, threatening your comfort, as only they can do

you've done the emotional math
what's the worst they can find?
what's the best?
what will we do if....

you sit there making small talk
waiting for them to come deliver
your family's fate
in the form of scan results
on a piece of paper

a piece of paper that you know someone is probably carrying in their pocket right now
as they deliver the guy's fate next door

will this day be remembered?
will it be the start of the big sadness?
or will it be forgotten altogether

i will myself to the conclusion that whatever it is, we can handle it
we're close. we love each other. we take care of each other.
my non-zen alter ego whispers 'blah...blah...blah' in my ear.
alter ego knows the truth
the truth is that the thought of watching cancer strip my dad of his life, his pleasures, his limited body fat, makes me want to run from the building screaming.
sure, i can handle it
but i don't want to handle it

and just as i think i might implode from feigning casual
the nurse comes in with the results
and they're good
as good as they could've been, at least

my dad takes the paper
and my mom exhales
and my heart rate slows
and i give my bowels the 'as you were' nod
we hug
and make a few calls
and wave farewell to that bullet that just whizzed by

as we make an appointment to do it all again in three months
i could swear i felt my bowels roll their eyes