Sitting in the Waiting Room

A sketch of a fellow waiter in the waiting room. Whether or not I (or he) am a patient boy, we both wait, we wait, we wait.

(Digital)

It’s just not early summer if I'm not on the brink of major surgery. In 2023, I got my face carved up in the spirit of better breathing; in 2024, I got my gallbladder out. This year, I might get lucky and just have the preliminary tests for all things stomach and colon related and they’ll figure out I can’t eat anything but chicken and rice chex because I have an ulcer and I’ll celebrate by reliving how I dealt with my first ulcer: by playing Silent Hill 20 times in a row.

Or, you know, I’ll find out I have a terminal illness and I'll get to wait to die.

Not feeling anxious about any of this at all, thanks.