Holding On To Hope

There is so much that I remember about my wife's car accident.

How could I forget?

It was a time when hours felt like days and days felt like weeks. There were so many things that I had to process, but one doctor's comment, which felt super rude at the time, really stands out.

My wife's accident was bad enough to have landed her in the intensive care unit. The doctor was reviewing her injuries with me. Shocked by what he was telling me, I commented, "Thank God she lived."

I'll never forget what he said next.

"We'll see."

We'll see?

Did he really just say we'll see?

Stunned by the sterility of his remark, all I could think to say back was, "What do you mean?"

I can't remember his exact response, but he painted a picture in which we wouldn't really know what kind of permanent difficulties she could face until she woke up and started her recovery.

In other words, the road ahead could be more difficult than anything else we've ever faced.

He was trying to temper my expectations. He was trying to prepare me.

That's when it hit.

Oh shit, this is worse than I thought.

That day in January of 2005 changed everything for us. I'm super lucky to be typing this now knowing that she made it, but at the time, her situation was fragile.

This was the first time I experienced something like this.

I was just glad that she was still alive, but he had seen further down this road. He had seen other patients and their outcomes. He knew things I didn't.

With just two words he quickly painted the picture that our lives may never go back to the way they were.

We were both looking at the same person.

To him, she was another patient.

To me, she was everything.

She was the mother of my son. My wife. My best friend. And she wasn't waking up.

She had to wake up.

All I could cling to was hope and I was trying not to let him, or anything else, break it.

She spent 2 weeks in the ICU, 2 weeks in the step-down unit, and then, when she finally did wake up, she was moved to a nearby physical rehabilitation center where she spent 3 more months learning how to walk and talk again. She was finally released in late April that year.

I showed up every day. It had become routine. I would go to work, get home and play with my son for an hour or so, and then head off to the hospital to see her. The nurses greeted me as I walked in, knowing that I would eventually show up at some point.

I only missed one day over those 16 weeks.

Sometimes all you have is hope. It's all I could cling to while all of this was going on.

The rest of it wasn't, and still isn't, up to me.

There is something else at play. Whether it's God, the Universe, whatever you believe is in charge of all of this, something else has the final say.

So what can we do?

Show up, do what you can, and hold on to the possibility of a good outcome.

I'm still not sure how I feel about the doctor's remark that day. His bedside manner could have used a little work, but I do think he was trying to prepare me for a tough road ahead.

Maybe, I should thank him for his comment. It was a very quick and effective way of telling me to get ready, there are more hard days coming.

I was lucky that I hadn't seen what he had. I simply didn't know what comes next after something like this happens.

I still had hope, as ignorant as it may have been.

I think it's important to take a moment to recognize that not every story has a happy ending. I am sorry if you've lost someone you care deeply about. My heart is with you and I'm sorry for your loss.

This is certainly a possible outcome, which is why it is so important to be hopeful in the first place. Tragedy can strike, even if it's on a benign Tuesday in January, like it did for us.

I think that we can all argue, that hoping for the best is far better than not having hope at all.

Sometimes situations are so dire that they put you in the position of helplessness. It feels like there is nothing that you can do to change what you are facing.

You have to do what you can to not let helplessness transform into hopelessness.

In times like these, maybe all we can do is show up, do the best we can, and hope that something good eventually happens.

I hope that whatever you may be dealing with, there is still a part of your spirit that can hang on, a sliver that can hope for better days ahead. After all, what else can you really do?

The future hasn't been written for any of us. Perhaps this is what the doctor was suggesting that day. No one knows what lies ahead. No one has a crystal ball that can peer into the future.

So, is there a chance for better? Is there a possibility that things will turn out the way we hope they will?

All I can say is, we'll see.

In the meantime, we owe it to ourselves and our loved ones to keep hoping, keep showing up, and keep hanging on to the possibility of tomorrow.