Hope is the best kind of dumb

I think hope, like being a good person, is pretty dumb. Hope often leads to taking a sometimes questionable decision that leads to some greater future and ignoring all the bad things that will could happen along the way. Hope leads us to taking risks in our lives - telling people we love them, trying for a new job, having kids, starting something new. Following our hope invariably puts us in the way for pain, often some of the worst pain - unrequited love, infants preventing you from sleeping can be a hell scape, your dream job turns into a prison. But without hope, what good can happen in our lives? We need it as humans to live and breathe and grow and make and do things we never thought possible. As stupid as it is, having hope and acting on it is probably the best things about humans, even if it is kinda dumb.

I finished the last zap of radiation of my current treatment today and right now I'm feeling better than I have since I woke up with my sore shoulder in December. I'm certainly not pain free - my cancer neck spike still howls when my pain meds run thin, it hurts to turn my head all the way to the left and right, some lingering irradiated taste buds can ruin a lovely meal, and I still fatigued from the radiation. Yet compared to the last few months I feel fresh and new as newborn. It's impossible for me to describe how much relief I feel right now.

So I am a bit surprised to find a spring of hope in my life. Perhaps it's because radiation treated me far more brutally than any stories I'd heard - turning my digestion system backwards, sending me to the hospital with the worst pain I could ever conceive, having the faith in my local hospital destroyed by their disorganization and detachment about my treatment. The wonderful thing is that I'm starting to see benefits from the treatment - I can move my arms mostly without pain, take walks without fearing of my leg breaking, I can imagine a point where I can decrease my pain meds. I feel like I had shackles around my joints that have been chipped away.  Maybe with this feeling better I can have friends visit longer, that I can cook breakfast for Bessie, actually drive somewhere on my own, that I can help around the house and not feel like like a constant burden to Bessie and my family.

When I swell with hope, I tend to make the silly plans that get me in trouble. I take big bites out of life that never lead to smooth sailing and often bite me in the butt many times, but those are often the best decisions I make. If this was the last chapter of my cancer story, then I would certainly jump into some new exciting thing. 

My cancer story continues with chemotherapy on Tuesday. That's a whole other nest of gnarly side-effects and fear that I'm happy to leave packed in its box for today. I may not feel this good ever again, but I'm so grateful and glad that I do right now.