This morning I returned a call received the other day, from a nurse working for a screening program - I've been told I need a test, the same test that started it all off for my friend, who died a year ago this past May. Thus far, I've been calm and relaxed about it, but this morning, when I called the number and listened while the automated voicemail gave directions about what I should do, I felt the first rise of unease - not a lot, not a great sweeping rush of it, just a momentary shiver running through me.
In Al-Anon, I learned what a waste of time it is to worry, and on the whole, I don't indulge in that mental torture of self. But this test was the beginning of the end for my friend, so I'm not surprised that I have the occasional thought trying to force its way into the forefront of my consciousness.
But I've also had ample life experience of hours, days, weeks, spent in fearful anticipation of "evils which never arrived," and I know what a pointless exercise it is to project the object of my fear onto the wall, and then tell myself frightening stories about it, when I could be enjoying my life. All I have is this moment, and it's my choice how I spend it. So, I choose enjoyment.