Waiting is hard. Over the years I have developed a several coping mechanisms for your normal, average, everyday waiting. For instance, I never leave home without a sock to knit shoved into my purse. That takes care of those DMV lines or a wait at the nail salon. You get a few strange looks as you juggle five needles while appearing to be crafting a tube out of yarn, but other than that sock knitting is a proven winner for many waits.
Sometimes larger weapons, such as books, are deployed. Books are super because they keep my brain from thinking all the anxious thoughts for a while. Thus when waiting for something that may be painful such as a full body wax or a doctor’s appointment they are ideal. Books are even more handy dandy now that they fit inside my phone. As an added bonus no one stares anymore because now they can’t see the cover of the hobbit filled, world on the back of a turtle shell, modern day wizarding, or dragon and fairy based fiction I choose to read. Win. Win.
Not all waiting is dispensed with so easily though. Right now I am waiting for some test results. You know the kind. The ole, you could be just fine, or you could be harboring a hideous and fatal disease, kind of test results. Of course they are also the kind of results that take entirely too much time to come in. The worst part is once the results are in you have to wait again to get an appointment to come in to have said results revealed to you by the every busy and time crunched doctor. There is no book or sock for this kind of waiting.
Instead I peel the skin from my fingers until they are bloody, or graze on food all day long. I binge watch television in the background, and force myself to clean the house. But despite all that I can still feel a festering anxiety in my gut reminding me that none of my tactics are really working. I’m still nervous. No way around it this time.