Hope

I’m feeling an emotion I haven’t felt in almost a year. Hope. I’d forgotten what it feels like. A soaring sense of possibility begins to color reality, distorting it perhaps, but so pleasant, so very pleasant. Wisdom counsels that hope is illusion, but wisdom has no chance against the shoutings of hope.

On the surface not much has happened. I have made three trips to the Cleveland Clinic, two in May and one last week. Prognosis: unchanged. That’s good actually, but the reality is still my liver is failing and my days or years—who can say—are numbered.

There’s nothing they can do.

However, the doctor was concerned about my shortness of breath and ordered some heart tests. That was the second trip. The third trip was to see a cardiologist about those tests. The cardiologist thought my tiredness and shortness of breath might not be due to the liver, but perhaps to a sleeping disorder. In other words my grogginess may be unrelated to the liver disease.

There may be something they can do.

I have to go through tests and the end result may be some nasty facts that dash my hopes, but at the moment I’m hoping they can treat the grogginess and I will feel better. It wouldn’t change my fate; it will not change the path of my disease. But we’re fated from the day we’re born for only one end. I can handle that destiny. It’s feeling bad all the time that weakens the spirit. To have no hope of feeling better has been hard work this year. When the body is grumpy, living with joy is not easy. Living with joy seems to me the point of life, but this past year has put the philosophy to the test.

Now a dash of hope has been added to the mental stew that is my reality and everything has changed even though I do not (yet?) feel better. No wonder people invest in false hopes. Rushing into doomed marriages, taking debilitating jobs, ignoring chest pains, I think I understand why people do foolish things to keep hope alive even when reality is dreadful. Hope feels good.

I have been without hope for so many months. This small burst of hope is pure delight. It’s like a returning summer; the window opens to a pale sweet green. It is morning. And there’s much to do.

Above: Hope, photo illustration. Copyright ptw 2010.