Hope -- Toxin or Remedy?

I've decided that hope is rather like the digoxin Mark takes to strengthen the contractions of his heart. This medication, which come from a highly toxic plant called digitalis lanata, is administered in tiny tablets and must be closely monitored. Give him too little and his heart failure could worsen. Give him too much ... sayonara, big boy!

We play this game with hope, too, these days. I try to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground, to allow myself to look forward, yes, but only to those things that are potentially within reach -- a camping trip at the beach, for instance. That's my goal for this summer, to get my family to a cabin for a couple of night. We gave up camping several years ago when Mark's health started to decline, but I'm realizing that spending our lives cooped up in this town, waiting for something -- anything -- to happen is counterproductive and causes us to resent Mark for that which he cannot control. So I'm making the reservations, in a cabin or a yurt rather than a tent, so that he will have a bed to lie down in. I hope that he will be able to come. If he cannot, then he cannot. That is about the extent of how much hope I can safely allow myself these days.

Yesterday I had to take him to the hospital again, but when I went to pick him up three hours later, he looked great! Dr. Junn had tried something new. He thinks that maybe the pain is being caused by excess fluid going to his liver rather than to his lungs or his legs like it usually does in heart failure patients. So instead of narcotics, he gave him lasix. He felt fabulous last night, without any ill effects, and my spirits soared. Could it be as simple as that, I thought? Could this be the treatment we've despaired of ever finding? Our whole lives could be different if this is just a matter of adding one more pill! Could it be??? But he woke up at 3 a.m., not feeling well. His body is puffy, his skin itches horribly, and he is exhausted. I'm trying not to beat myself up for allowing myself to hope last night, trying not to say to myself, "You silly, silly girl. You know better than to do that to yourself, now don't you?" I can't help it though. I have to have some kind of hope, something to propel us toward the future. The fat lady ain't singing just yet ...