“We will do surgery in the morning.”
It’s ironic how one sentence can bring such relief and fear all at the same time.
First thing tomorrow, Chase goes into surgery for an unknown duration. In the words of his chief neurosurgeon …”As long as it takes.”
Later this afternoon while in an EEG, they discovered that Chase was having multiple “sub-clinical” seizures. Meaning that his brain is seizing without any outward symptoms. A team of neurologists watched him have a seizure while eating a french fry. (warning: inappropriately timed humor ahead) I’m just saying, if you have to have a seizure, you should definitely be able to eat french fries.
Because of his need for continuous monitoring, he has been moved to the PICU. Every time there is a status change, and sometimes even more often than that, my heart sinks and I’m in a place of fear over faith. I’m so very thankful for the moment by moment grace that I/we are being given.
Malignant or benign, removing all or some, what will be lost not to be regained, and what will the hours/days/weeks after the surgery hold? All of these things are issues they can only discuss options on…not to be more fully known until after the surgery.
In moments of such great unknown, we feel so alone, and yet, as a friend (and mother of a child who survived heart surgeries) reminded me – sometimes that loneliness is good because it reminds you that all you have is Christ and that’s all you really need.
“I stand upon the mount of God with sunlight in my soul; I hear the storms and vales beneath, I heat the thunders role. But I am calm with Thee, my God, beneath these glorious skies; and to the height on which I stand, no storms, no clouds can rise. O, this is life! O this is joy, my God, to find Thee so: They face to see, Thy voice to hear, and all Thy love to know.” Horatius Bonar, Scottish minister who returned five young children to this same God
