Chapter 65: Hope: There is No Medicine to Match it
Thank you to Shari Fleming Photography and Angel Hair, Inc for making me feel like a model.
I don’t often read memoirs; they aren’t my favorite genre and they are usually so vulnerable they hurt to read. It’s a little funny to admit that, considering that my own memoir will be published in a few months.
This week, I read a memoir that changed my perspective: Finding Chika by Mitch Albom. This memoir is ironically about a young girl with a brain tumor, which in all honesty, made me even more hesitant to read it. Why would I want to read a sad story about a life similar to my own, I thought? But, I read Finding Chika in one day and I loved every single word.
Albom discusses the lessons he learned raising Chika, an adorable, spunky girl who didn’t really care that she was sick. In it, he touches on the power of hope, and the very true idea that children often have more hope than adults do.
My favorite line of this book is when Albom says, “Hopelessness can be contagious. But hope can be, too, and there is no medicine to match it.”
Let me tell you, I truly do believe this. I believe in medicine; I am a physician after all. But in all honesty, since becoming a patient, I now also believe strongly in positivity, hope, spirituality, the power of friendship and family, the power of mindfulness and being present, etc. I have a newfound understanding that perhaps there are some things medicine simply cannot explain.
This week, I had an MRI. I have honestly lost count to how many of these I have had at this point. All I know is that I once again lay in a tiny little machine for 45 minutes and tried to hold onto every shred of hope that I had left.
My scan showed stability. It was not perfect; there is still a “tiny spot” of what may be cancer, but it is holding steady for now. I’m on a very close watch and will get to know the scanner very well over the next few months, but that’s ok. Honestly, four months ago, when I was told I may have a glioblastoma, I didn’t even know if I would still be alive today. I may have a “tiny spot’ of something, or it may be nothing, but I have an incredible amount of hope and “there is no medicine to match it.
In addition to finding out these positive scan results, yesterday I started cycle 3 of chemotherapy, submitted my final book manuscript to an editing team, finalized paperwork to close on a new home I am purchasing, and continued to study for my very terrifying internal medicine boards exam in two weeks.
Some people may wonder why I’m doing all of these things, like buying a house, continuing to work full time, essentially living my life as normal when I have a “tiny spot” on my scan.
Honestly, there’s a good chance many of us in this world have a “tiny spot” somewhere on our scans, but that can’t stop us from living. Sometimes, knowing about the tiny spot can actually make us live more fully than we ever have before.
I love living, and I’m hopeful for much more of it to come.
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Fondly,
Courtney
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