Is patience a virtue?

One of the many good things to come out of this odyssey is that I have become a far more patient person. In years past, I always kept myself on a strict schedule. My daughters can testify that I have a long history of becoming agitated when things take longer than expected.

Yet over the past year and a half I have spent hours and hours waiting for appointments and it does not bother me. Given that reading is such a challenge, I am often left with nothing to do in those waiting rooms, but somehow I don’t mind. This is not a bad thing. I like the calmer, more patient, me.

But the old Rebecca may be hiding in there, waiting to come to the surface. I was in the rental office of our Sharon apartment to speak with them about why I am having difficulty logging in to my account on the web portal, which is used for service requests among other things. The young woman at the desk was very nice, but she was the sole person in the office and, each time the phone rang, she had to answer it. At one point she received three calls back to back, each requiring some amount of her time. I sat there watching her chat with the third caller and started to think “I have so much to do and I do not have time to sit here waiting for this person!”  

I had to chuckle. Within a week or two after each MRI, I begin to wonder how I know that I am still alright, that the tumor has not returned. With good reason, oncologists talk about remission rather than cure. Every time I forget something I wonder whether this is a sign of the beginning of that process. Is my impatience a sign?

Either way, impatience is not a virtue. Forgive me for kvetching, but is it too much to ask for a different sign that I am doing alright?

Have a calm day!

Love,

Rebecca