You wouldn’t know it from the way my posts read, but, in general, I think nature has her ways best without me anthropormorphizing at length or inserting homosapien emotionalis into every single aspect. Nevertheless, meet Louise. Louise is the name of a young woman I know well, at least by six degrees, and she is going through a rough patch back in Ann Arbor. She is the same age as my daughter, but she is on hiatus from the business of being a college student and worrying about homework assignments and who is writing in her Facebook. She has been taking fertility drugs and going through painful medical procedures in hopes of insuring future progeny. Her journal entries about this detail every complicated and painful stage of stimulating, harvesting, storing follicles, eggs, sperm- the biology of our dreams- but the broader sweep of her thinking is painted there too: maybe the young man she loves now, when she’s too young and her feelings are colored by circumstances to know for certain, will indeed be her lifetime partner, the chosen father of her children. She has the incredible gift of imagination and hope to think about wanting her own children despite a most difficult childhood and now, cancer. She envisions a time when she will be healthy and whole again. Within the month, she will begin chemotherapy while she waits for a bone marrow transplant.
Life is not always easy or fair for starter people but Louise has a rich and hopeful spirit, she writes eloquently about her current dilemma in her hospital CarePages and she has her eye on the prize. She’s working very hard to earn her wings. I held her in my thoughts while I watched this beautiful Louise take shape. L’chaim, Louise!