It's not what you know that gets you in the end … it's what you don't know—about yourself—that shoots a heartfelt goal in the foot. Then after losing your footing, you can't help but stumble about until you gain insight into that which you'd been blind, before.
Soon after his first appointment with Dr. B., Will's biopsy is scheduled. Though the pages of the calendar turn at the same rate of speed as always, the days between the scheduling and the reality seem to move at slow-mo pace—and over the next several months, this wait-and-see state of mind tests our patience, again and again.
Once the date of biopsy arrives, I drive Will to the doctor's office, which is literally less than five minutes from our house. Upon parking in the lot next to an impressively modern, cement block building in a choice location of town, I slip out of my car and lock the door. Then while accepting my husband's out stretched hand into my own, I check to see that my positive focus is intact before accompanying this man, who rang my bell when I was a teen, into the elevator, which opens on the second floor to an outdoor corridor that leads us straight toward the urology office where Dr.B's name is one of two on the door. Upon opening this door, Will ushers me in to the waiting room, and after taking a quick glance around, I feel surprisingly welcomed into an environment, created expressly to soothe those who walk in feeling unnerved and then walk out, hoping to receive only good news.
As I take a seat, Will approaches the front desk where two women of undetermined age look up from their work to greet us with warm smiles, which somehow prove reassuring, as though their presence offers safe haven in a place that we'd not have chosen to visit if all had been well. After signing in, Will sits down in the chair next to mine and begins to fill out paperwork concerning today's procedure.
Though the unnerved state of my mind remains unchanged, I feel inner tension relax a bit and release a sigh. As to Will's initial reaction, well, it's hard to read what my husband feels inside, because an opaque expression covers his face. However, having lived with this man for forty-seven years, I know full well that cloaking strong emotion is Will's way, so my calculated guess pinpoints anxiety.
Within a few minutes, the door separating the waiting room from exam rooms opens, and a third smiling face calls out Will's name. As he rises, so do I, and we hug each other tightly before the doctor's friendly assistant welcomes Will into the inner sanctum where none know what fate has in store for us next … I say in store for us, because instinct suggests that having lived my entire adult life with Will at my side, that which fate deals to him historically affects me profoundly, as well.
While waiting for Will to return from the inner sanctum, my eyes drink in the soothing nature of my surroundings, and this thought flows hopefully out of my mind: If Will's urologist had anything to do with creating this environment that will tell me a lot about a man to whom I'll feel drawn without needing to know much more. I mean, we already know that Dr. B's professional reputation is sound. So it's curiosity, concerning his bedside manner, that arouses my instinctive reaction, right now.
If you'd been sitting next to me here is what you'd see: an expansive waiting room, large enough to offer up many comfortable chairs, arranged in several conversational settings. In addition to that, softly colored walls, large paintings of peaceful landscapes and tall, green plants gather signs of Mother Nature indoors. As a final feature, the soothing sounds of an electric waterfall, running down the length of one wall, calms agitated minds.
Much to my surprise, I like this place, a lot. I mean, seriously, this office, which I'd imagined as sterile, provides a warm and comforting cocoon in every way. And having found this calming environment exceptionally soothing, my mind's eye prefers to gaze at this and that instead of leafing through magazines.
At some point, one of the two smiles at the front desk opens the door to the inner sanctum, and while approaching me, she graciously asks if I'd like water, juice, coffee or a soft drink. Though I'm not thirsty, water is my choice, because desert dwellers know the importance of hydration.
Before too long, the door to the inner sanctum opens, again, and Will emerges, so rising from my chair, I smile tenderly and welcome my husband into my embrace—because, come what may—I am fully aware that if the results of this biopsy prove all is not well, my heartfelt goal will be to create the same soothing emotional environment in our home for Will that this office had just provided for me. And leaving the office, hand in hand, we turn the page as the next chapter of our waiting game begins …
Soon after his first appointment with Dr. B., Will's biopsy is scheduled. Though the pages of the calendar turn at the same rate of speed as always, the days between the scheduling and the reality seem to move at slow-mo pace—and over the next several months, this wait-and-see state of mind tests our patience, again and again.
Once the date of biopsy arrives, I drive Will to the doctor's office, which is literally less than five minutes from our house. Upon parking in the lot next to an impressively modern, cement block building in a choice location of town, I slip out of my car and lock the door. Then while accepting my husband's out stretched hand into my own, I check to see that my positive focus is intact before accompanying this man, who rang my bell when I was a teen, into the elevator, which opens on the second floor to an outdoor corridor that leads us straight toward the urology office where Dr.B's name is one of two on the door. Upon opening this door, Will ushers me in to the waiting room, and after taking a quick glance around, I feel surprisingly welcomed into an environment, created expressly to soothe those who walk in feeling unnerved and then walk out, hoping to receive only good news.
As I take a seat, Will approaches the front desk where two women of undetermined age look up from their work to greet us with warm smiles, which somehow prove reassuring, as though their presence offers safe haven in a place that we'd not have chosen to visit if all had been well. After signing in, Will sits down in the chair next to mine and begins to fill out paperwork concerning today's procedure.
Though the unnerved state of my mind remains unchanged, I feel inner tension relax a bit and release a sigh. As to Will's initial reaction, well, it's hard to read what my husband feels inside, because an opaque expression covers his face. However, having lived with this man for forty-seven years, I know full well that cloaking strong emotion is Will's way, so my calculated guess pinpoints anxiety.
Within a few minutes, the door separating the waiting room from exam rooms opens, and a third smiling face calls out Will's name. As he rises, so do I, and we hug each other tightly before the doctor's friendly assistant welcomes Will into the inner sanctum where none know what fate has in store for us next … I say in store for us, because instinct suggests that having lived my entire adult life with Will at my side, that which fate deals to him historically affects me profoundly, as well.
While waiting for Will to return from the inner sanctum, my eyes drink in the soothing nature of my surroundings, and this thought flows hopefully out of my mind: If Will's urologist had anything to do with creating this environment that will tell me a lot about a man to whom I'll feel drawn without needing to know much more. I mean, we already know that Dr. B's professional reputation is sound. So it's curiosity, concerning his bedside manner, that arouses my instinctive reaction, right now.
If you'd been sitting next to me here is what you'd see: an expansive waiting room, large enough to offer up many comfortable chairs, arranged in several conversational settings. In addition to that, softly colored walls, large paintings of peaceful landscapes and tall, green plants gather signs of Mother Nature indoors. As a final feature, the soothing sounds of an electric waterfall, running down the length of one wall, calms agitated minds.
Much to my surprise, I like this place, a lot. I mean, seriously, this office, which I'd imagined as sterile, provides a warm and comforting cocoon in every way. And having found this calming environment exceptionally soothing, my mind's eye prefers to gaze at this and that instead of leafing through magazines.
At some point, one of the two smiles at the front desk opens the door to the inner sanctum, and while approaching me, she graciously asks if I'd like water, juice, coffee or a soft drink. Though I'm not thirsty, water is my choice, because desert dwellers know the importance of hydration.
Before too long, the door to the inner sanctum opens, again, and Will emerges, so rising from my chair, I smile tenderly and welcome my husband into my embrace—because, come what may—I am fully aware that if the results of this biopsy prove all is not well, my heartfelt goal will be to create the same soothing emotional environment in our home for Will that this office had just provided for me. And leaving the office, hand in hand, we turn the page as the next chapter of our waiting game begins …
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