Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts

Sometimes I wish I could just make all of the barriers in our lives vanish. Maybe just for a day, just to see what it would be like. Oddly enough - if I were ever actually given that opportunity, I think I would hesitate to act on it. It's a scary thought if you really think about it. What would life be like if we didn't have to try? If there was nothing standing in our way to achieving what we want, what would we do?

Anyway, if I had a choice of getting rid of four obstacles in the world here is what they would be:

1. War. I wish that lives wouldn't have to be lost or put in danger because we want to protect, defend, prove, or acquire something. Note that I'm not saying I'd like to get rid of conflict, because in many ways I think conflict makes the world go round. But the fact remains, I wish people didn't have to die over conflicts that - most of the time - I believe could have been prevented.

2. Prejudice. If we could all act a little more honestly, and without assumptions of one another - I am certain we could also get rid of other restraints. For instance, without prejudice people would fear one another less. Without prejudice there would be far less hate and needless cruelty. But most of all, without prejudice, everyone could have a more equal chance at success the second they are born.

3. Slavery. I'm not about to go on a rant about the multitude of ways and the frequency in which slavery still happens. A simple google search will give you all of the numbers and more information than you could ever want to know about this. I do wish that I could make the idea of one human being owning another evaporate with a snap of my fingers. It's the sad truth that for many of those who are enslaved today - their first step to freedom is realizing they are slaves to begin with. No human being should ever have to realize that.

4. Despair. If I could squash that feeling of hopelessness for everyone, I'd do it in a blink. No questions asked. I don't care about the situation, the outcome, the consequences, the reasons -- I just want everyone to know what hope feels like and to believe in it. For me, that's all it comes down to.

Your turn: Tell me the 4 things you would get rid of in the comments!

• Monday: A letter of appreciation to my wheelchair. 
• Tuesday: Happy Valentine's Day! 5 Tips to ensure you're taking care of YOU! 
• Wednesday: Hope is the thing with feathers... and other observations of hope
• Thursday: Coming back from an injury can feel like starting all over again. Don't give-up
• FractureFreeFriday: This week's question I answered was "is it difficult being the only one?"

Fewer days are more exciting for me than the day I get my cast off. Roughly ten days before The Big Liberating Event is to happen I start a count down and tell all my friends, including all the strangers I meet who ask me "how did you break your ..?" Without even answering their questions I am usually quick to spit out "I get it off in 10 days!"
So when the day arrives, and the doctor flicks the x-ray up onto the screen - I am just chillin' like a villain, lying flat on the examination table: my hands are tucked behind my head, leg is propped up onto a pillow, and my toes are wiggling impatiently. By this time the cast has usually become a lot looser, and I try flexing my ankle  a few millimeters at a time - smiling happily when no sharp pains trail after my impatient movements.

He gets up from the computer where he has been peering over the x-ray for a few minutes.
"So there's still a very small sliver of a crack left." He tells me, and waits a few seconds for the news to sick in. I stop wiggling and prop myself up on my elbows, suddenly all eyes and ears on edge.
"I think in about another two and a half weeks or so.." But his voice escapes me and falls into some noiseless vacuum where all bad news any doctor has ever had to say goes.
But today was supposed to be the day! Nothing hurts! I can wiggle! And.. secretly... behind my parents' backs I had even been doing my own transfers on the leg, without any pain! This is blasphemy! Sham! The disbelief continued ranting and raving inside of my head.
I am no longer 3 or 4 so I know it wouldn't do any good for me to voice my disappointment. It was clear as day on the x-ray, in literal black and white, the facts were there: the bone hadn't healed completely yet.
After some discussion we decide to go with a bi-val cast, something that I still have to wear all the time but would be able to take it off for baths and showers. He looked at me sternly,
"You'll still have to wear this all the time because the bone isn't strong enough without the support yet." I nodded grudgingly.

Having your hopes dashed can be disappointing regardless of the situation. But in the medical world I have learned a few things about the delicate presence that hope can have. Here are a few of my observations --

Hope is the thing with feathers:

• Hold onto it with or without the facts. In the incident above the hope I had that my leg was healed didn't match up with the black and white image. But that doesn't mean we should give-up the hope! Usually it just means we need to be patient, allow the body to heal more or try a different course of medication. Whatever it is, holding onto that hope allows you to have a kind of standard in which to compare real-time results with. If the test results match up to the hope that you held onto then that might be a good thing, if it doesn't match-up then that helps to inform your next decisions. It serves as a kind of benchmark or check-point for progress, and the best part is that you won't ever be wrong.
• There is always a friend in it. Once you've grasped it then you know that its energy and motivations that hope can exert has no depth. This is important because often times things can get scary and precarious in the midst of confusing medical activity, and when there is uncertainty the environment can be intimidating for everyone involved but particularly for patients. However, if you keep hope near there will always be at least one consistently reliable component in the whole scene that you can look to as a familiar face in an otherwise uncertain crowd. 
• It is low-maintenance. Just have it drifting around in the back of your mind, or even write it down on a scrap of paper if you have to - but that's all you need in order to lay claim to your hope. There is no added cost, no health insurance policy to sneak it through, or extra amenities that it requires. Hope is just there at the ready for you.