On a rollercoaster?
Not the usual cliche of a rollercoaster ride, it's struck me that I have been slowly getting on a rollercoaster for the last month or so. First of all, an interminably long wait full of anticipation of what is to come. Then eventually stepping into the rollercoaster car and feeling a bit excited. Then doing up the safety belt and realising that this thing isn't all that comfortable. And finally waiting for the guy in charge of the thing to come and check your seat belt is done up properly - this is where I am at now, having been to Wake Forest last week and examined from almost very possible direction. Wake Forest very efficiently posted all my results on my personal wee website so I can keep track of things - all the numbers look fine to my uneducated eye, all having moved in the right direction except some of those they told me might go the wrong way.
So now I sit and wait for the coaster to start its slow chug up the hill to the first precipitate drop. I promise not to scream though I may well shut my eyes.
Like a rollercoaster, the wait between having my seatbelt checked and us actually moving is going to feel like an eternity - my next appointment where things really start happening (i.e. they take a load of stem cells from me) is 10 days from now. At least by then I hope to have got rid of this bloody cold. I think I have 10 teaching days left in the calendar year, too although the last couple are taken up with other people's exams, so I may be spared those. I could certainly use a couple of days straightening my room - still have half a dozen boxes that got rather roughly treated between the old room and this one and that need sorting out. Not that I need anything that's in them this year - it just offends me to have that many boxes pretty much labelled "assorted junk". This year's competition arena is huge, too - 16' square and needing yet more space to let people walk around outside it. It makes a big dent in my 28' square room to put it mildly.
So now I sit and wait for the coaster to start its slow chug up the hill to the first precipitate drop. I promise not to scream though I may well shut my eyes.
Like a rollercoaster, the wait between having my seatbelt checked and us actually moving is going to feel like an eternity - my next appointment where things really start happening (i.e. they take a load of stem cells from me) is 10 days from now. At least by then I hope to have got rid of this bloody cold. I think I have 10 teaching days left in the calendar year, too although the last couple are taken up with other people's exams, so I may be spared those. I could certainly use a couple of days straightening my room - still have half a dozen boxes that got rather roughly treated between the old room and this one and that need sorting out. Not that I need anything that's in them this year - it just offends me to have that many boxes pretty much labelled "assorted junk". This year's competition arena is huge, too - 16' square and needing yet more space to let people walk around outside it. It makes a big dent in my 28' square room to put it mildly.
I totally understand how waiting for the ride to start sucks. The time between my original diagnosis and surgery was four weeks that felt like four years. Was I the only one concerned by the fact there was something malignant residing in my body? I came close to getting in my surgeon's face and screaming GET IT OUT OF ME NOW! It's hard to march to someone else's schedule.
ReplyDeleteWell, the ride has started now. Not too much happening other than I feel it's too late to get off, not that I want to. I also know that very soon the desire to scream and barf, possibly at the same time, will be upon me.
ReplyDelete