Patient Patient

When I was in college we spent a couple of sessions on the seven heavenly virtues. The one that I always rolled my eyes about was ‘patience’.

Patience is;

Forbearance reflecting moderation. Building a sense of peaceful stability and harmony rather than conflict, hostility, and antagonism; resolving issues and arguments respectfully, as opposed to resorting to anger and fighting.

Showing forgiveness and being merciful

The others I totally got – kindness, humility, charity, diligence, temperance and chastity. These virtues resonate with me. But patience, not so much.

Being the arsehole I am, when asked about patience I would respond ‘it’s not a virtue I am acquainted with or wanting to acquire anytime soon’. I acknowledge that this was a dick move and like all checks and balances, the universe is now giving me the big fuck you and middle finger salute.

I literally have no choice at the moment, but to be – god forbid – patient. I am the patient, patient.

In a world where you can have dessert delivered to your doorstep in less than an hour, a new dress ordered and delivered to you 3 hours later and can order your coffee so it is ready and waiting whenever you deem fit, I am being subjected to the ultimate waiting game.

Apparently you can’t just take a pill when sick and get better. You can’t receive approval for a fancy drug just because you need it, you have to wait and show a history of due diligence to PROVE that you need it and this all takes time.

I am a busy woman. I have shit to do. Literally!

I am a child of the millennium, I have everything at my finger tips and don’t wait for anything. If I want something I get it, I make the arrangements or work for what I want, but I get it. I don’t wait for no-one. *snaps fingers*

OH HOW THE MIGHTY FALL.

My arsehole attitude has come back, slapped me on the arse and said ‘giddy-up bitch’ this is going to be great. Sit down and wait.

I am quickly learning that everything takes time, particularly when it comes to your health. If your not waiting for results or diagnosis, your waiting to see the people who are responsible for the results or diagnosis.

If your not waiting for them, your waiting for the time to pass so you can go and have the scheduled tests that give the results or diagnosis that the person delivering the results or diagnosis needs for the meeting that you have scheduled to get the results or diagnosis. Does your head hurt yet? Mine too.

Meanwhile, this waiting game is testing you to your core. I don’t want to wait. I want to get better now, know the outcome now.

I’m the woman who reads reviews to know what happens at the end of books. I started watching Riverdale this week and needed to know what was going to happen so bad, I wikipedia’d the episode synopsis (Hubby, I am sorry, please forgive me – I couldn’t help it), and despite that I can’t wait to see it play out. I do the same with movies – I just have to know. I can’t wait.

Since being diagnosed with Crohn’s it’s all I seem to do. Wait. Wait.Wait.

The shrink said something very poignant last week;

“This is a relatively new diagnosis, it been about 6 weeks, that’s not really very long”

Hmm… interesting thought.

I get paid every 4 weeks and let me tell you, there is nothing longer in the world than that last week before pay day. It’s longer than a walk across the Sahara desert without food or water, carrying a camel, with one arm and leg tied behind your back!

So when you consider that the amount of time I have known I have Crohn’s is only slightly longer than one pay month, it isn’t really that long. Yet, it feels like I have been waiting for one thing or another – forever.

Reality; it’s not.

The shrink was great not because he gave me any mind blowing insights or answers but he challenged my thought pattern and politely said ‘calm down sister – give yourself a break, this is new’. I quickly realised that because I never really have to wait for anything, the fact that there is waiting time involved in wading through the waters of dealing with a new illness, your perception of time is screwed up.

This waiting game is the equilvent of the wait for Christmas or your birthday – as a child I would count down the days and each passing moment felt like forever and to add insult to injury, it would pass in the blink of an eye. The adult equivilent is waiting for 3pm on a Friday to roll around so you can drink yourself into a coma without judgement. Nobody is judging you because everybody at the well, like you, has been waiting for that hand to strike 3 since 9am Monday. Too bad drinking sends Fred over the edge kicking and screaming like a meth addict missing their hit. #alcoholwasmyfriend #fredyoubastard

So what’s a girl to do?

Well, nothing. I have been re-enrolled in school. The school of patience. I don’t want to attend, I foresee a heap of detentions, timeouts, couple of tantrums and some uncomfortable conversations with the principle (aka Hubs – it’s already started). It’s beyond annoying and frustrating!

But like everything else with this bloody disease, I’ve been stripped of my choice. I’m going to stick with the shrink and he is going to give me some ‘tools’ to help manage the frustration around waiting – I’m hoping it’s a Thor hammer that I can just smash shit with, but I have a feeling it’s more ‘happy mind tools’ – and we will see how that goes.

Crohn’s has won this battle for now. It has played it’s 8 letter word, on triple letter score, twice and I am still trying to arrange my bloody tiles on the rack. Well played Crohn’s, well played.

Lucky for me, I love a good game and patience is one I am about to excel at. Well that or scrabble.

Mx

 

 

 

 

 

 

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