The Phoney War

"The Phoney War" relates to a period between September 1939 and Spring 1940 when Britain had declared war on Germany but, Atlantic convoy attacks aside, not a lot was going on. Germany had defeated Poland, and everyone expected a further attack somewhere in Western Europe, but nothing happened.

From the perspective of the ordinary citizen, this was a strange time. The evidence of war was plain to see:

Barrage balloons were deployed around sensitive sites to make German bombers fly higher, so that their payload would be dropped less accurately.
2 million men were called up.
Gas masks were distributed to the civilian population, and people were required to carry them everywhere they went.
The entrances to shops and civic buildings were protected by massive piles of sandbags.
Trenches were dug in Hyde Park.
I think, although I'm not sure, that London Zoo put down its poisonous snakes in case they escaped during a bombing raid.
Petrol, and then some foodstuffs, and then paper, was rationed.
Identity cards were introduced.

But still, there were no bombs falling, no battles being fought, no wounded soldiers and a huge sense of unreality began to infect the British public. For a time, the whole idea of being at war seemed, well, phoney. And then in April 1940, German troops invaded Norway and in May, invaded Belgium, France, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. Winston Churchill became Prime Minister, and the fight was on.

I feel like I'm going through some kind of phoney war, myself. The tumour has been spotted: the danger is imminent: the threat is real. But strangely, not present. I've had some time to get my ducks in a row, do my will and powers of attorney, and yesterday found the strength to tell those I care about what's going on. But this time has largely been one of waiting. Waiting for a diagnosis, and then and only then, battle can be joined. This strange interregnum feels unreal, and I still have fantasies that it's all a bad dream, and I'll wake up one day, tell my friends and family that it's all been a giant mistake, and we'll laugh.

But through all the scans and biopsy, not one of the professionals has been laughing. Monday should be diagnosis day, and then, let battle commence.