Let Me Tell You a Story

October 2003

Nine Months Awaiting                                     by Pauline Power   

Nine long months. A lifetime in some ways, yet for me too short a life span. Advance knowledge of any future event inevitably brings with it both fear and excitement.  In my case however, I have to admit fear played the dominant role. Excitement, if it existed at all, was definitely the silent partner. Yes indeed, fear could have claimed an Oscar for its performance. Yet I knew the day would arrive, despite my earnest denial that I would ever wake to such a morn.

In a desperate attempt to calm my frayed nerves, I sought help from any quarter that was willing to donate advice. At a local hotel I attended an holistic evening. Therein I met a ‘life coach’ and challenged her to dissect and solve my dilemma. She confidently informed me that all fear could be replaced by excitement. Positive thinking would surmount all potential problems that lay ahead. Visualisation would create the perfect picture and I should believe all would be well. With less than a month to that fateful day, I frantically grasped this idea and, despite one or two (okay, ten or twenty!), intrusive negative thoughts, I must admit I found the process to be beneficial.

‘New-Age’ and alternative therapies are all well and good, but such theories must be supplemented by good old-fashioned experience. Once again I listened, intrigued, as those who had ‘been there, done that’, discussed the forthcoming event with a calmness that was, to be honest, astonishing. Perhaps as the years roll by, one becomes complacent, allowing the mind forget the pain and agony, the sleepless nights, the sheer terror of what lies ahead.

And don’t think those who have relatively recently endured the same trauma will be of any help whatsoever. Outward calmness and serenity is surely a guise, assisted I have no doubt, by short -term memory loss. Once the task has been achieved, it appears that any former nerves were merely a figment of the spectator’s imagination and must never be referred to again. They are simply replaced by serene unquestionable knowledge and quite rightly, a high degree of personal pride.

At last the day arrived. I tentatively approached the gloomy grey building. I was surprised to note it was smaller than I had imagined. Walking slowly, I glanced nervously around. Reassuringly I noticed a number of others with the same serious expression on their faces. Only time would tell our fate. I wondered how many would emerge delighted, what percentage would be disappointed.

The next thirty minutes must definitely have been the longest and shortest of my life. I walked out through the day into a grey overcast day. Yet somehow the sun seemed to be shining. Certificate of Competency clutched tightly in hand, I thanked God. I had passed my driving test!

  Pauline Power

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