Yesterday was 6 months to the day that I had brain surgery. I spent yesterday afternoon sitting between my parents and one of my closest friends waiting for my turn to be screened. To be screened. To be examined. To be poked. To be prodded. I waited. For an answer. For a resolution. For an absolution. I dreaded that day. As it crept in closer I felt the panic rising in me. Rising up into my gut, clenching my heart, consuming my throat, tearing my breath from my mouth. I felt it creep up through my heart and into my mind. What if….
I made it this far only to stumble.
The MRI induced panic has been no match it seems for my life. I feel I am facing challenges that are just beyond my ability to bear. A love lost returned with hope that I thought had been shattered. A new love, waiting patiently for my answer. A burden of 2 people’s happiness let alone my own. Regret, loss, hope, fear, retribution, despair, hate and love all wrapped up into one messy package. A package I am not sure I can bear the weight of. I have spent the last several months trying to learn how to relinquish control. To let life take its course and I will be its willing passenger. I will wait for life to show me its course. I will allow life to find me, to control me, to show me its beauty. Now? I am told from all angles that I must decide. I must choose. Everyone seems to need or want something from me. Everyone seems to need or want my answer.
I feel that panic rising. It feels like that last surge of energy before sickness takes over. It’s all encompassing. It’s overwhelming. There is panic rising in me. Panic that I cannot see into my own future or even know my own present. There is panic rising in me that I will have regret. There is panic rising in me that it may not even matter once I have the results of my MRI. Love is supposed to be beautiful, to carry us through. I feel stuck in the mud with no one to pull me out. Drowning in the quick sand and the harder I struggle the further I go. Panic is rising.
My mom says that when we are born God writes our fate across our forehead and no matter what we do we cannot interrupt the forces of fate. Destiny. She tells me that everything happens for a reason. My sister tells me that God gives us no challenges that we are not strong enough to face. He only gives us a burden we can bear. My best friend is praying for me as we speak. If life is based in faith, in hope, and in destiny then why must I choose? Surgery or radiation. Hearing or smiling. Life or death. Love or loss. Happiness or sadness. Why must I choose? Is it because somewhere along the way I stopped believing? Is it because I lost faith when I saw loss? I believe in what I can see. I believe in family, in love, in compassion. Then how can I choose? How can I put words to this burden I don’t feel that I can bear? I hope whoever is out there controlling the puppet strings has a wordpress account…
I feel that panic rising. It is the only thing that interrupt the numbness of waiting. Waiting for answers, waiting for health, waiting for love, waiting for myself to choose. I feel such panic rising.
Peace and love – whatever that even means –