Waiting

I've been sitting in the intensive care unit waiting room for the past six hours. With other members of my family I've been watching the pager disc, looking for a ring or a vibration, indicating news about my husband's progress in a serious, ten hour surgery he's undergoing.
It was pretty clear from the surgeons that this wouldn't likely be a fatal (or "bloody", as they call it) operation - just complicated and long. Even so, with all the waiting, you wonder:

Will he die? Will I be a widow? Will he come through forever changed? Will our family pull together if the worst happens? Have I been a good enough wife? Did he feel loved sufficiently before he went under the anesthesia? If he needs more help afterward will I be there for him?

The waiting brings up all kinds of uncertainties. Most people hate to wait for things or possibly bad news, especially in the hospital. It often leads to uncomfortable soul-searching about your own capacity, your heart, and your history. It challenges your smugness, your presumptions, and what you take for granted. In a marriage it challenges your devotion, your love, and your commitment. It forces you to examine the status quo, and make some decisions about what you keep, and what you need to throw out.

Waiting may feel like agony, but the shake-up is important, if you want to live a conscious, intentional, growthful life.

Sincerely,
Susan Lager