I’ve got my ‘every six months’ checkup going on to see if the cancer they killed in me a few years back is still dead. I had it twice – between two of the checkups it came back – so I don’t – shall we say, ‘count my chickens before they hatch’.
As a result, these checkups are generally preceded by two weeks of anxiety that builds and builds and builds until I get the results back.
I mentioned to a fellow at work that it was happening, and he said, “So, you must be used to it by now.”
I thought about that for a moment, and then realized that it’s not something you “get” used to…
I tried to find a way to explain it – and finally told him this:
“It’s like every six months, someone holds a gun to your head, and they slowly squeeze the trigger. You can hear the springs in the gun compressing, you feel the muzzle shake a little as their muscles quiver, and you tense up, anticipating the explosion. Adrenaline pours through your body. You try to keep from shaking, from crying, because the gun exploded twice before, and you don’t want to go through that again.
This time, there’s a loud “click” of the hammer slamming down on an empty chamber. Just that sound explodes in your ears. Every muscle in your body jolts tight as the sound echoes – then rings away.
No bullet this time.
But it takes awhile to recover.
And no… you don’t ever get used to it.