The Agony of Waiting

Recently, I was reminded of how difficult it is to wait especially when you anticipate bad news—or at least know it is a possibility. After three cancer diagnoses, I am no stranger to doctors’ offices, but I left this particular visit filled with dread as I knew the answers I so desperately wanted could take days to know at the earliest.

Once home, my phone never left my side. I repeatedly checked for an email or a portal message. I tried to distract myself and keep busy. But in the coming days, my world shrank smaller and smaller, tightening down my shoulders, neck, and stomach as if they were screws keeping me intact. The anxiety of waiting on test results and doctor feedback had taken over my mind and body.  I wanted to flee from the panicky feeling. But screaming and running down the street as if my hair were on fire would be useless because the agony is attached to me.  I can’t escape it.

From my coaching practice, I knew I was experiencing an emotional “take-over”—an intense feeling of fear triggered by thoughts of powerlessness. But the human part of me couldn’t shake the thought, “What if the cancer has spread? What if the cancer has spread? What if the cancer has spread?”

During this wait, I joked to a close friend, “I’m trying every coaching tool that I have on myself.” But I was entirely serious.

First, I sat alone and journaled. The entry began, “Yesterday was a rough day, backache came back. Had x-rays but no word/results. Whole hip area is achy this morning. Feeling overwhelmed with fear.”  I stopped writing and just cried. 

When I was all cried out, I knew I needed to reframe my situation if I had any hope of making this limbo space more positive. I started again asking myself, “What thoughts and strategies help me feel better?” Below I’ve listed thoughts and coaching strategies that helped me move from anxiety into peace.

  1.  I am in good hands with Dr. M.” Having a doctor I completely trust makes such a difference for me. Initially, she was hard to find, but it was worth months of searching for a doctor with the expertise I needed and who I thought had my best interest at heart.  I remind myself if there are cancer findings, she will call/email me soon after she gets the test results. I can trust her.  She’s on top of things.

  2. “Who am I beneath/behind the cancer?” This question is a nod to Bryon Katie’s methodology called The Work. When doing The Work, one examines the troublesome thought.  If I think, “The cancer has spread,” I ask myself, “What happens when I think this thought?” The answer was visceral anxiety and fear. The personal cost of this thought was evident. However, when I ask myself, “Who would I be without this thought?” This new thought reconnects me to my non-cancer self. I realize cancer doesn’t define me; I am so much more.

  3. “What am I learning from this experience?” This is my 30,000-foot view. I can step out of the angst momentarily and compassionately observe myself experiencing an emotional “take over.” From this high-level view, I realize a devastating health diagnosis, tragedies, disappointments just happen. They are part of living. I’m not alone. Many others have been and are going through similar experiences.  My compassion warmly extends to all others in my same position as well as to myself.

  4. “Be open-hearted with myself.” Once I allow myself to experience my honest feelings, I lean into people and experiences that are comforting. I admit to myself how hard this waiting is. I remind myself that I’m well cared for and supported. I avoid stressful tasks, pressing plans, uptight/negative people, or depressing information. Instead, I seek whatever feels comfy—a cup of tea, cuddling a favorite pillow/blanket, reading an inspiring book, journaling, sitting in the sun, taking a walk, or making plans for something meaningful. I’m gentle with myself.

  5. “What part of me is so fearful?” This question leads me to Internal Family System (IFS) strategies where I identify the part of me that is so fearful, and I listen intently to it. I know from my IFS training that I have a “young girl” part from my past who panics and overreacts when my world gets rocked. In my mind’s eye, I can hold her and listen to her. Immediately, I feel some calm, along with a little courage to lead my “scared little self” in a mature way.

  6. “Let go and hold on with faith.” Connecting with a loving presence/power bigger than myself is comforting. I was raised in a Christian tradition, so I experience this loving presence as God or the Universe in my inner world. Handing off the anxiety and fear to a loving presence is reassuring.

As of this writing, I am still in limbo waiting for test results and feedback. The possibility of an emotional “take-over” subtly lurks in the recesses of my thoughts. Anxiety and handwringing won’t improve the reality of the cancer. Instead, practicing these strategies gives me peace as I wait.

Post-script: Shortly after completing this piece, the call I was waiting for finally came. I am delighted to share that my recent x-rays show no signs of cancer spread. As I prepare to post this on my website, I’m reminded that using these strategies all the time, not just in times of agony, we can access the peace that lies beneath our anguish.

If you are overwhelmed with the anxiety of waiting or feeling in limbo, consider coaching with me to learn strategies so you can find peace and contentment.  Contact me at susanmwhitecoaching@gmail.com for a complimentary first session.

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