More often than not, it turns out that I'm anxious for nothing. After learning about six weeks ago that a biopsy on my forehead revealed Squamous cell carcinoma, the thought of waiting weeks to get an appointment with a surgeon was a little unsettling.
I didn't anticipate the diagnosis was life-threatening, but the place on my forehead had been problematic for over a year. I had been to my determologist's office four times during that period. A biopsy was taken at my last appointment.
When the results came back, my doctor referred me to a different doctor for a Mohs procedure. I get the stitches out in nine days, and the scar on my forehead will blend in with the rest of the wrinkles. It doesn't get any better than that.
The truth is I don't play the waiting game very well. During the past week and a half, I have been excessively impatient to what seemingly is a standstill in getting work done at our house. One minute it looks like everything is falling in place with a flurry of activity, and the next minute nothing is happening.
Day-before-yesterday, after I stopped by the house and ascertained that nothing was happening, I telephoned the construction superintendent for an update. I've always heard that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, but I don't want to be that guy. Being the squeaky wheel doesn't win a popularity contest with anyone. The last thing I want to be thought of is a proverbial pain in the neck.
I was pleasant on the phone. I don't want to be the guy whose caller ID prompts the phone not to be answered. We all know what I'm talking about. You look down at your phone to see who's calling and conveniently choose not to answer.
Actually, that seldom is my response. I'm more of the mindset to answer the phone and get it over with. The people you'd most prefer not to hear from are the people who have your number on speed dial.
Perhaps the building superintendent had told me earlier, and I failed to process the information. He didn't say: "As I told you before", but I'm sure the thought has crossed his mind more than once.
The lack of activity at our house does not relate to a shortage of workmen. The finish carpenters doing the trim work at our house haven't been back because they ran out of the lumber they needed. The lumber has been on order for weeks. The order was only partially filled with they started the project. It wasn't that they ran out of steam when they left. They left because they ran out of wood.
In the timeline previously given me, the painters had to paint before the kitchen cabinets could be installed. The cabinets were expected last week, then this past Tuesday, and now reportedly they will be delivered on Friday. Who would have thought that a paint shortage could be the culprit associated with the waiting game?
The only thing that is not at a standstill is time. The sound of Otis Redding is rolling around inside my head this morning:
"Sittin' in the mornin' sun
I'll be sittin' when the evenin' comes
Watching the ships roll in
Then I watch 'em roll away again, yeah
I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh
I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time."
When I looked up the lyrics to the song, I was surprised to learn that shortly after recording the song, Redding died in a plane crash on December 10, 1967, and the song became the first posthumous number-one record in chart history.
"Dock of the Bay" ended up being named the sixth most-played song of the 20th century by BMI. In a testament to its influence on so many artists, this great song has since been covered by numerous artists, ranging from some of Redding's peers to artists like Pearl Jam and Garth Brooks.
All My Best!
Don
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