False hope begins with an article torn out of a magazine, folded up into a neat square and given to me by my friend's mother. A photo of a cute 7-year-old girl with an embroidered pink flower clip in her hair lying on her bed alongside an expressionless Hello Kitty doll tucked behind pink pillows. The girl displays three white pills in one hand and a blue insulin pump in the other. And, of course, a smile. A warm, understated smile.

And my focus turns to words. Words in bold; words that are capitalized; words that are enlarged.

"From Pump to Pills"

"LIFE-CHANGING NEWS"

"First grader with DIABETES can now live her life free of daily insulin injections"

Being cautious about getting too excited, I scan the article for conjunctions such as however, but or although floating across the page like dark rain clouds.

Several children diagnosed with type 1 diabetes have been cured of their disease thanks to a pill taken twice a day. However, this amazing breakthrough does not apply to boys named Charlie.

It's not until I research further that I come to find that it really doesn't apply to Charlie. I find the however.

I learn that a small percentage of people diagnosed as infants actually have a rare form of diabetes called monogenic diabetes. A genetic defect has caused their insulin-producing cells to simply be asleep rather than destroyed. A pill wakes up the slumbering cells and then presto change-o! - no more diabetes.

The however is that those who have tested positive for this rare genetic mutation, were all diagnosed with diabetes before 6 months of age. They were infants. Charlie was just about 2.

I was up in the attic on the computer late last night when I heard Susanne coming up the steps. She had found the magazine article. Up at the top of the stairs she held the crinkled page against her chest like she was holding a mug shot card. Her eyes were teary and she said nothing, awaiting a response. She looked fragile. Like she would shatter into a million tiny pieces at the slightest touch. She had hope in her eyes.

I shook my head.

"It's not for us."

"But Charlie was just 1 and he ,"

I cut her off.

"It's not for us."