A doctor's waiting room is like a microcosm of life. There are people who will make the most of their "pause" by editing their day planners, making a grocery list, or even cleaning out their purse (my personal favorite). A more relaxed person may casually flip through the magazines while taking note of good recipes or beauty tips, people watch, or phone a friend. There are even those who foresee and even hope for this waiting and bring along a book or laptop. On the other hand, there are those who, maybe due to the reason for their visit, are so nervous that all they can do is sit and focus on the waiting.
Sometimes I think that life is about how we live in the waiting. I suppose in the widest scope, one could just be waiting til their end. But in many ways, we wait. We wait for birthdays, holidays, to drive, find jobs, buy a home, get a report card,....get a diagnosis. I wonder what an outsider would have observed about me during my waiting? Could I be considered a person with faith even though I followed through with occasional impulses to research every positive outcome? Or was I just being a responsible, educated patient? Was it ok that I sometimes looked for blogs and comments of people with M.S...looking for clues, allowing my emotions to ride up and down? I can't decide if I spent my waiting time productively or psychotically- but, regardless- a month seemed like an eternity. Thankfully, in eternity, there will be no more waiting.
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