Writing prompt #12 Which door?

Writing prompt #12: Four doors exist: Disappointment, Delight, Frustration and anticipation. Which one do you walk through?

"I'll be fine. Fine." I tell myself over and over. Forcing myself to be positive. This is no big deal. But maybe it is. Maybe your life is going to change today.

No.

Positive thoughts yield positive energy. No big deal.

I'm in the small waiting room of the doctor's office. Nondescript music wafts through  from the receptionists area. Three-month-old magazines lie scattered on a bleached wooden coffee table. My youngest daughter plays quietly on my phone next to me. She woke up with a slight fever and cold. She had to miss her very first day of 3rd grade and grandma didn't answer my call about watching her, so she's here with me. She has no concept of my journey to this point. The endless blood tests, ultra sounds, MRIa, and the waiting. The wondering. The unknown. Oh, the unknown. It can take years off a life as fast as the six-fingered man's contraption in The Princess Bride.

I ruffle through my purse. Aimless fingers. Anything to distract me. They call my name.

"He'll be in shortly," she says after taking my blood pressure. I wonder if it will be super high from nerves. But it's normal. Maybe those forced positive thoughts helped.

I smil at my daughter. She's as quiet as a mouse in such unfamiliar surroundings.

A small knock and he's inside. He shakes my hand and asks how I'm doing. "Fine," I reply. But I'm really just waiting for him to tell me how I'm doing.

"The spots on your liver are hemangioma." I have no idea what that is. Am I supposed to be relieved or worried? He continues, "They aren't uncommon and absolutely nothing to be worried about. Follow up with your primary care doctor in about 6 months, but there is no need to see an oncologist anymore. You are free to go!

Free! I float down off the exam table. I can't hide my smile as I take my daughter's hand and we walk, no, glide out the door called delight.