Patience

Jay Porcelli

I spend my time waiting for phone calls, waiting on hold, waiting in bed at night, staring up at the white ceiling that I can’t quite make out, waiting on line to order at Wooster, waiting for faxes, waiting for calls back, waiting for letters, specifically the one that I need for surgery, the one that will slice me open like a pumpkin and take all that squishy, slimy stuff out and make me glow, which I know from the surgery videos I’ve watched at 3 am when I’m waiting in bed at night, turned away from the jarring blue light that shines from the digital clock on the fridge, a pillow over my chest, thinking about the letter that will set me free, the last hoop in this bureaucratic loop in which I’ve been entangled, waiting so I can make that call and say, “Yes, I’m available on May 14th,” or whatever date they’re available, but the longer I wait, the more likely it will be that the month will become June, July, August, or nothing, and that terrifies me, because I have spent all this time waiting, waiting for emails, waiting for confirmations, waiting for my family to understand, waiting in the gym with my arms over my chest, constantly pulling my shirt down so I look flatter, and if I have spent all this time waiting just to be told to come back in December, I will buy some surgical tools, antiseptic, and rags, and I will do it myself, because patience is not a virtue, patience is not easy, patience drives you crazy until there is nothing left but frustration, equal parts anger and sadness, and there is nothing to do but cry and go to jiu jitsu, boxing, kickboxing, anything that will stop me from punching a wall and turning my knuckles indigo, with hints of green, blue, and yellow hues, because I have to keep on waiting, waiting and being understanding, calm, composed, collected, rational and professional, because outward rage does nothing but alienate, it makes the waiting longer, and if I have to wait any longer, I will snap, shatter, falter, go under, splinter, sink, stoop, crash and decay—but in the meantime I spend my time waiting, holding out, hoping, being patient as a rock in a riverbed.