Seeking a second opinion takes courage, doesn't it?

I want a "different answer."

The hearts of those seeking a second opinion are filled with a mix of such expectations and anxieties.

It is a time to search for other treatment options,

and I believe it is also a time to reconfirm who you are right now.

"

Why me?"

Shirakawa-san has an autoimmune disease.

While generally known as a joint disease, in Shirakawa-san's case, the immune abnormality targeted the optic nerve.

Little by little, her vision is fading.

It is a very rare case, and a treatment method has not yet been established.

She continues to receive treatment at a university hospital to this day.

"University hospital."

Doesn't that term sound like a last resort to many people?

That is precisely why,

the shock of being told "it's difficult" there is immeasurable.

Shirakawa-san said she could not immediately understand the meaning of those words.

What does it mean that it's difficult?

Does it mean it won't heal?

Does it mean it can't be stopped?

Various words swirl around in my head.

And what remained in the end was,

"Why me?"

And of all things, it's my eyes.

When I heard those words, I felt a lump in my throat.

Mr. Shirakawa is not the type of person to express his emotions outwardly.

That is precisely why his quiet way of speaking conveys the weight of reality just as it is.

Station signs becoming harder to read.

The expressions on my children's faces gradually becoming harder to see.

Small changes like these pile up,

and the world itself begins to change little by little.

"It felt like the world was starting to change."

That one sentence still remains in my heart.

Time spent searching for hope

In the midst of all this, Mr. Shirakawa tells his attending physician,

"I would like to hear another doctor's opinion."

It took a great deal of courage to say those words.

Would it offend the doctor?

Would I be abandoned?

He said such anxieties crossed his mind.

Perhaps it is a somewhat Japanese sensibility.

But I understand that feeling well.

Even so, when people stand before a harsh reality, they want to look for a "different answer."

"There is still a way."

"There is another possibility."

Deep down, one ends up hoping for words like those.

Mr. Shirakawa understood that in his head, too.

That it was a difficult illness.

And that the reality was harsh.

Even so, his heart...

"There might still be something."

He said he couldn't help but think that way.

I don't think that feeling is a weakness.

I want to live.

I don't want to give up.

Isn't it precisely because of that desire that people look for hope?

What was more important than the correct answer

As a result, the treatment plan did not change with the second opinion.

It didn't mean his anxiety disappeared, either.

Even so, Mr. Shirakawa said:

"Okay, I felt like I could fight this."

And one more thing.

"I felt like it was okay to ask."

These words left a deep impression on me.

We,

tend to hold back.

Asking questions.

Expressing our doubts.

Just by doing that,

"Wouldn't that be rude?"

We end up feeling that way.

But worrying about your own life and asking questions until you are satisfied is never a bad thing.

Mr. Shirakawa told me this at the end.

"I feel like getting a second opinion was a time for searching for hope."

It wasn't just about changing the outcome.

How will I live my life from here on out?

It was also a time to search for that answer.

That is why, what was needed during that time,

was not just the "correct answer."

I am also talking about this in audio.