“I’m going to kick this virus!”
“I feel positive about this, this treatment is The One.”
“All I need is a positive attitude (and a boatload of DAAs) and I’ve got this beat!”
I use hope.
I am really, really hopeful. For me, hope sits in that spot between blind positivity and life-sucking negativity. I hope it works. I am doing everything in my power to make it work. Chances are good it will work.
Not long ago I was talking about the likelihood of a cure with my daughter. I said to her
“I know there’s a 5 to 10% chance this won’t work for me.” She replied
“There’s a 90 to 95% chance it will.”
So I leave the positivity to others. My friends, my family, my colleagues, my little support group.
I focus on the hope. For what is life without hope? It’s the thing that drives us to get up every day and keep fighting. It’s what makes us work for better days to come.
Hope is what propels me forward. It’s how I orient myself in this vast and unknown ocean that is our shared illness. Hope is my compass. Hope is that small, flickering light that guides us towards our futures, whatever they might be.
How do you cope with the mental pressure of treatment?
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.”