I remember the first time I went to NIH for a surgery.  John & I took his father down, spent the day in the surgical waiting room and were able to see Alan in the ICU that evening as he crawled out of anesthesia and began working on recovery.

I’ve done it twice now with John, deliriously tired, pacing a hospital I have come to know.  Watching the clock.  Reminding myself not to panic.  Finally finding my husband in ICU, his face flushed and his words groggy.  But back.

This past Friday John and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary.  Our tenth year of togetherness.  Time is a strange and wonderful phenomenon.  “This too shall pass’ is one of the truest sayings that exists.  ‘Time heals all’.  Another good one.

But sometimes things circle around and you find yourself facing the same demons you’ve conquered in the past.  This morning we woke up at 3am (I use ‘woke up’ loosely because I’m still not sure I’m awake) and journeyed to Elmira, NY for Alan’s latest surgery.  And we are in another surgical waiting room.  Eating fast food.   Waiting.  Bleary-eyed.

The waiting is the worst.

Nothing makes the time go faster.  And as it slips past (slower than usual) it feels painfully wasted and, conversely, painfully important.

In the end, we are all small beings moving through our small lives with their ups and downs and twists and turns.  Nothing occurring will be remembered in 100 years or prove to be significant in any way.  Which makes the significance in this moment, to these people (myself included) heartbreakingly poignant.

Did I mention I was tired?  Yes.  Very tired.

Also introspective, contemplative.

We each shape our stories with our attitudes, our thoughts, our beliefs.  The things we place value in, the way we choose to articulate ourselves.  We can be positive, negative, optimistic, realistic, pessimistic.  We can find comfort or insult in any action.  We have been gifted the divine right to choose.

Today feels like deja vu.  And also, nothing like deja vu.  As my shoulders and back burn & ache from fatigue.  And my eyelids lay heavily across my pupils.  And I’m intermittently bone-numbingly cold and uncomfortably stale & warm.

I need to sleep.  And sweat.  And stretch.  And drink green smoothies or juice — or anything that feels nutritious in any way.

But all I can do right now is breathe.  And wait.  And be as strong as I can be for my husband, who is the strongest man in the world.