terrifying hope

Today, about an hour or two ago, my aunt (my mother’s sister) spoke to my mother on the phone. She informed her that one of our other relatives who is a doctor in the UK (well, I think he’s retired but still working, I’m not entirely sure… anyway, that’s not the point) mentioned that a UK hospital he knows of is top notch and that he would look into whether or not I can get a transplant there.

I’m trying not to get my hopes up, I really am. The disappointment of a rejection could be really bad for me – psychologically speaking. In fact, I’m really scared of hoping that it might happen. When we started looking into other countries, like Spain or the US, I wasn’t this nervous. Sure, I was excited, until Spain didn’t work out, but even then, that rejection didn’t make a great deal of difference to me.

But somehow I’m scared of investing hope in the idea that I might go to the UK. Why? I’m not sure. I mean, I’d get to see all my friends. At least, I’d like to think they’d make the trip to the hospital to see me if it ever materialised into anything more than a vain hope. Also, if it did work out, I’d have a transplant.

To tell the truth, I’m scared of what happens next. The life after transplant terrifies the s*** out of me. I don’t know what I’d do, where I’d go, how I’d even earn a living. Right now, I’m only coping better than most because I bury my head in fiction and learning all day. What’s going to happen when I have to actually start living?


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