What is the Definition of Hope?

I didn't want to consult Webster for this, any book definition would be too dry and two dimensional.  I want to offer a robust picture, something with texture that you can grab a hold of.

By necessity, hope begins in the darkness.  I think that Monday and Tuesday of this week were some of my darkest moments since the initial shock and horror of diagnosis.  I had been so tired that I had been nauseous for the past week and was worried that the nausea was a sign that my cancer had returned.  I was starting daily appointments for radiation and the kids had started to cry whenever I left the house.

On Tuesday besides my radiation appointment, I had my weekly meeting with the radiation oncologist to check in:

To the assistant who asked me if I had any questions for my doctor, "Yes, I have been feeling extremely tired and nauseous this past week.  Is there something wrong or something I can do?"  She asked, "Don't you have anti-nausea medication from Chemo?"  I'm like, "Well, yes.  But, uhm, is there something wrong with me?"  She responds, "You had Chemo."  Not an auspicious start.

To my radiation oncologist, "What can I do for my fatigue and nausea? Do I need my iron levels checked? Vitamin D levels?"  Her response, "I just cover the side effects of radiation, those won't start kicking in for another week.  What you are experiencing is from Chemo's effects on your body.  You're going to need ask a Chemo nurse upstairs but what you are describing seems like a completely normal recovery to me."

Internally I am thinking, WHAT! This is NORMAL! I am 6 weeks out from Chemo!  I didn't feel this bad 2 weeks ago. 

So, I go talk to one of the Chemo nurses who gives me this pitying look before saying, "Did no one tell you about this?  It is normal to start to feel better when Chemo is done.  Your body had been in survival mode and you felt better because you weren't fighting just to survive.  You have a couple of weeks of that and then your body starts to repair what it can and you crash again...So, you are experiencing fatigue and nausea, has your bone pain come back yet?"  At my look of shock, she hastily adds, "Not everyone has their bone pain return."  I am trying not to cry, "When does it start to get better?"  "Oh, about 3 months after your last Chemo it starts to turn around and you start to feel better."  "But that's December for me!  And I will have had 7 weeks of radiation by then and radiation causes fatigue!"  She just pats my arm awkwardly, "Try to rest and take naps." 

Uhm, hello! I have 4 kids and one of them just turned 1.  How, exactly am I supposed to keep going for the next 7 WEEKS before it even starts to get better?????????????

Then I had a meeting with the social worker next to talk about getting help with transportation or the transportation costs of driving 60 miles round trip daily for treatment.  Previously she had said that they would be able to help with rides or with gas cards.  But that was before she knew I lived so far away.  "I didn't know you lived up in Brownsville," she said, "We can't pick you up that far away.  I can apply for a $100 Komen gas card for you."  I stare at her.  She stares back at me, I am imagining that she expects me to be grateful.  A hundred dollars is a hundred dollars, but, "I expect it to cost me $450 a month to drive to treatment.  I don't have $450 extra just floating around per month in my budget.  $100 is nice, when I can I apply for another one?"  She responds, "Maybe half way through treatment."  I stare at her, incredulous.  She stares back.  Finally she adds, "There is the Soroptimist's fund.  They can pay a household bill for you."  I give her my overdue electric bill and try not to cry.  What bills were we not going to be able to pay in order to come up with that kind of money for gas?

My Tuesday was truly awful.  I spent the whole day trying not to cry.  I was emotionally and physically exhausted, not just exhausted, burnt out.  Hope is never so precious as in the dark moments of despair.

What is hope?  Hope is a friend from church calling Tuesday afternoon to say that are bringing dinner over.  Hope is an email prayer for my health and my spirits.  Hope is a message on my answering machine , just to say, "Hi", waiting for me when I get home from treatment.  Hope is a friend coming over yesterday with dinner and scrubbing my kitchen floor.  Hope is 3 cards in the mail.  Hope is money from friends and family to help with gas.

Hope is Jesus lived out by others to make a difference in people's lives.  Jesus said while on earth, that no one has a greater love than to lay their lives down for their friends.  Not many of us will have the opportunity to die for someone else, but this week my sister laid down her life for me.  Not to die, but to put aside what she would normally do to take care of her household to come and take care of mine so that I could go to treatment.

Hope with hands and feet.  No dry definition here.