The fight goes on with optimism and activity

When I was diagnosed with chronic heart failure last October, I was told that it was untreatable, and I was placed in home hospice care. I panicked and was depressed and frightened. A terminal diagnosis was not something I expected when I went into the hospital to get some retained fluid drained. So I had to deal with that. My depression and fear intensified when I got home and saw the hospital bed in my living room, oxygen bottles in the dining room and living room, and a walker and wheelchair in the office.

I wallowed in fear, depression, and self-pity for days. And I started to feel worse.

And then one day I found a Chronic Heart Failure group on Facebook. It had a few spammers and inappropriate posters, but overall, the people were sincere and asked legitimate questions and shared real feelings of what they were feeling. And then one posting hit me harder than all the rest. I am citing from memory now, but it went something like: “I need help with my husband. He was diagnosed with chronic heart failure in June and went into home hospice after a week from being sent home. All he does is lie in his hospital bed and watch daytime television and won’t really eat. He has given up. I am afraid he doesn’t have long because he isn’t doing anything to help himself. He won’t take his medications or keep doctor appointments or talk to anyone about it – not even me and we have been married for 42 years. He has children and grandchildren who love him very much but he is a different person now. I am at my wit’s end. I just sit there watching him waste away and I don’t want to see him die when he could live longer by following the doctor’s orders. What do I do?”

I read that posting several times and then came to a firm decision not to follow his shortened life. I am not kidding myself that my diagnosis is terminal, but I decided not to give up. I realized there were a lot of things I could still do with my cane or the walker, or the wheelchair. I could go to coffee with my wife or friends. I could make and keep lunch and dinner dates. I could go to weekly Mass. I could work from home or find from-home volunteer activities. I could take online college courses for free audit credit. I could work at maintaining a positive attitude and (it is a really overused cliche but I startlingly found out the truth behind it) to live each day to the limit. I wake up each morning, so I will do what I can to honor and celebrate that.

I wonder what happened to that man who had given up and whose wife had written into the Facebook group. Sadly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has passed.

But I want to be here for my friends and family as long as possible. I follow my doctor’s orders and get out of the house as often as I can, and do not get into the hospital bed until nighttime.

I firmly believe that my positive attitude and optimistic outlook on life are keeping me alive and relatively healthy as my life unfolds.

Douglas MacGowan has lived in Redwood City for 24 years and has been a part-time freelance writer since 1994, when his first article was published. Over the years, he has written books and articles about 19th-century British history and abnormal psychology. His latest book, “The Irish Sky,” is a picture book about Irish mythology he published with his sister.

He has blogged for Pulse previously and is happy to be back!