A recent phone call from a twenty-one year old young man, newly injured with a spinal cord injury, brought me back to the first foggy year of my own injury. Of all the words and phrases I had to learn regarding my ”new lifestyle,” as one psychiatrist put it, the term ”false hope” was pounded into my brain, anytime I used the word hope.
Frankly, I heard it so much from ”healthcare professionals,” who’s job was to help restore my hope, that I stopped respecting them, and hearing it really began to chap my ass. Chapped enough to feel I could no longer keep quiet about it. This recent phone call was the inspiration I needed.