Once again we find ourselves sitting
in a waiting room, waiting for the results of yet another test. The same television on the wall is showing the
same talk-show host that we’ve seen a hundred times, and the same outdated
magazines on the table in front of us do nothing to help the time pass more
quickly.
I look tenderly at the little boy
here with me – the one with the gorgeous eyelashes, the perfect complexion, and
the angelic curls that always tempt me to run my fingers through them. And I ache with compassion. Poor little guy! When will enough be enough? How many more tests and probes and scopes and
scans will he be required to endure?
