Have you ever known that something bad was just about to happen? You keep hoping and praying that even though the path was certain, you would somehow will it not to happen. You try everything in your bag of tricks, but the conclusion is inevitable. The movies always play on the drama of this type of moment. A car: stuck on train tracks. The driver: unable to move said car to safety. At first there is no sign of the train. There is just the worry that the train is on the way. Then, perhaps, the director pipes in the sound of a train whistle in the distance. OH-NO! The train is coming.
The first night was uneventful. The next day too. I was hopeful. Really hopeful. Maybe I wouldn’t get sick! Maybe my little list of instructions really was enough to protect me. I had been following every rule and guide line. Small meals. Check. Staying on top of the anti-nausea medication. Check. Drinking water. Check. Check. Check. I even got out of the house and took a walk, as instructed. Check. I was doing everything that I could do to stay ahead of what I knew was coming.
I tried to be as relaxed as possible. I tried to keep my anxiety in check. I tried not to get worked up. But, for me, the clock was ticking. I had done my research. I had asked every question. I knew that the first two days were not necessarily going to be very difficult. I was waiting for the third day. The third day was supposed to be the day where everything would catch up to me. The third day was the day my body would be fighting everything that was happening on the inside. The third day was tomorrow.
As I went to bed that night, I set my alarm clock (again) for the middle of the night (again) to stay ahead of my medication (again). I prayed that my bag of tricks was enough to stop me from getting sick. But, as positive as I tried to be, I knew what was coming. This wasn’t the movies, but this would have been the moment when I heard the train whistle in the distance. I had tried everything, but that train was still coming.