The nature of
hope
Towards the end of 2008 Fr Michael was diagnosed with motor neurone
disease. Even for someone who has spent the best part of his life reflecting on
the human condition, Fr Michael still struggles to make sense of his illness.
In a series of articles he reflects theologically on what it means to be ill.
"The discovery of the first
chemical to prevent the death of brain tissue in a neurodegenerative disease
has been hailed as the 'turning point' in the fight against Alzheimer's
disease."
This was a major news item on
the morning when I sat down to write this article. Clearly, it is a discovery
that should bring a flash of hope to all those affected by Alzheimer's disease.
But the news item began by talking about 'neurodegenerative diseases.' Could
this discovery also bring hope to people like myself suffering from motor
neurone disease?
MND is a disease that afflicts a
relatively small number of people. It is not the subject of research projects
on the scale of those directed to curing more widespread diseases.
Nevertheless, whenever a new advance is made in the treatment of any neurological disease, I cannot help
thinking, "Could this help me?"
All irrational surges of hope
are soon tempered by caution. In the latest discovery in the fight against
Alzheimer's disease, the research team has been careful to warn that it will be
at least ten years before an effective drug can be developed.
It is now five years since I was
diagnosed with motor neurone disease. I have never ceased to hope for a miracle
– either a scientific breakthrough or a direct intervention by God. I do not
want to be ill; I yearn to be cured, even though (my rational mind tells me)
there is not much cause for optimism. Even if the latest discovery will
eventually lead to a treatment for MND, it will come too late for me.
But I have never given up hope.
I remain 'hopeful' because I have discovered that 'hope' means more to me than
the possibility of a cure.
Maybe I have redefined the
meaning of 'hope.' Nevertheless, I have discovered that, despite my MND, my
life can still be filled with purpose, potential and fulfilment. I still
experience love, moments of joy, the gift of humour. I discover that my life is
dominated with such positive thoughts. This fills me with the same emotions
associated with the normal understanding of 'hope.'
Hope (as I choose to understand
the word) is the remedy against bitterness, anger and despair. Such hope I see
as a gift from God. I have faith that this gift from God will be my ultimate
cure.
I pray that one day in the not
too distant future I will hear a news item that announces a discovery that will
lead to a cure for motor neurone disease. I pray that such a discovery will be
made in time to treat me, or at least provide a cure for future sufferers of
MND.
