The Waiting Room

30.1685° N, 93.2575° W

I’m sitting in the breast imaging waiting room, and I’m nervous.

I hardly slept.

My eyes are puffy,

like I’ve been crying.

I feel jittery,

like I want to shake from the cold, but I’m holding it still.

Women come in and out while I wait,

I can’t help but wonder about each of them.

Are they here for a routine screening?

A follow-up like mine?

Did they find a lump?

Or is this visit something more?

I know there might be an emotional release later.

There usually is.

Sitting alone in my car after the appointment.

Before I know anything.

Or after I know everything.

I’ve done this before, so I recognize the feeling as it rises, uninvited.

Isn’t it strange how emotions don’t ask for permission?

How they move through the body without warning?

And maybe even stranger…

Emotions are invisible.

But what they do to us is not.

They show up in the body.

In the breath.

In the quiet, in-between spaces.

Concrete.

Physical.

And somehow…

Something more.