Robert Frost penned the iconic, “The Road Not Taken”, where he wrote about how taking the road less traveled made all the difference. What about when you are standing at the point in the road where you have two options and taking the less traveled road could mean your life and the most traveled road could mean your life? Mr. Frost, what then?
(A huge shout-out to Mrs. Evelyn Sims for what knowledge I do have regarding literary works. I am confident I was the student she wished would opt out….but I am daily reminded of her in vocabulary words I recall or in a literary work that is cemented way back in the back of my brain that suddenly reveals itself. Creative Writing….aka…the room with painted blocks.) I am off track now….
I stand at a crossroads. Two medical options, for one medical issue. Both of them so far apart, that it’s like comparing apples to oranges times a thousand. One option seems easier, but comes with some hefty side effects and no concrete evidence it even works on the majority of the population. And if it fails, the second phase of the less evasive plan is less appealing than the first. The second option could open pandoras box, but it is the option most used. Yet, does most used make it the right choice? Or is that what’s used because there isn’t enough data on the other options?
What would Mr. Frost have advised when there was no confidence in either road? No confidence in any of the “guides” that would be on the road? Would he have told me that my fear was eroding the confidence that should be there? Would he have written a line about the over-analyzation of the two roads? The “guides” are some of the best in their field, shouldn’t I trust their wisdom? Yet…I sit here needing a consensus. I need clarity. I need the two roads to turn on their street lights. I need to see what’s at the end of each road.
So, today I sit. I sit on the stump, at the juncture of two roads. A decision has to be made soon.
(Today, I sit here as a girl that has learned she has pulmonary involvement from her recurrent respiratory papilloma. I sit here grateful for God’s protection while we sorted out what showed up in October’s CT. I sit on my stump. I have places to go, people to see, and dreams to watch unfold. This…I don’t have time for this….and today, I’m going to leave my stump and prepare for my nephew’s wedding and a trip to the beach. This…this will wait.)