Waiting; A Short Short Story

I’ve found myself in this office time after time again; this was the third time this month. I sat in the corner of the waiting room with my hood pulled up over my head and my feet tucked under my chair. They were bouncing rhythmically, I couldn’t control it; I’ve been sitting here for over an hour waiting for results, I was getting anxious.

Shit, I wish they would hurry.

This is something I’ve been dealing with for the last three years. Just last month my doctor told me he thought everything was cleared up; yet here I am again. Waiting. I’m always waiting.

How long does it take to look through a damn microscope?

I pull out my cellphone and start mindlessly scrolling through Facebook. Memes, click-bait, sign this petition for something unimportant, poor quality filtered pictures of half-eaten meals, the same crap I find here every single day. At least it passes the time.

It’s been three hours now. I’m the only one here. What could possibly be taking them so long?

I sigh and shift my legs, I don’t think I’ve ever been this uncomfortable before. Back into my phone, there’s got to be something that I can use to distract myself. Deciding on a trivia game that I haven’t played in months, I settle in and begin proving that I am in fact smarter than everyone else.

Another hour in. Christ, this is taking forever. Maybe I should ask the lady at the desk—

“Ms. McEntyre, we’ll see you now.” About damn time.

I follow the nurse back to one of the consultation rooms, she’s uncharacteristically quiet; that’s not a good sign. Room C, I resign to sitting in the chair next to the desk; there’s just something so demeaning about sitting on that tiny hospital bed with the crinkly paper. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

Waiting. Again.

Twenty minutes go by, the doctor finally saunters in. “Morgyn, I’m afraid I have some bad news. I’m very sorry, but…”

My mind starts to race, I tune out the doctor. I only pick up key terms; radiation, six months, unfortunate circumstances, I should have come in sooner, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t stand to listen to the drone of things I’ve heard three times before. This can’t be happening again. As soon as the doctor finished speaking, I ran for the door and started driving.

If there’s an expiration date on my life, I can’t waste any time not living it.