Brain surgery on my 35th birthday
The anesthesiologist rolled his cart into my room around 4:30 AM to start preparations. I’d be under shortly and out for the whole operation. There are craniotomy procedures where the patient is awake during the surgery. I am grateful to be unconscious this time.
Needless to say, a lot can go wrong during any surgery, especially one where they saw open your skull and remove a foreign object from your brain 🤯. I was told that the goal was to resect about 80% of the tumor. My prayer was that they would be able to get it all. The tumor is located in my right frontal lobe, so an incision would be made above my right ear. This would be an extremely challenging surgery.
Out of nowhere, a man approached me saying that he knew my cousins, The Fairweather’s. His children attend the same school and he asked if he could pray with me, which was a great comfort. Once I was all hooked up and about to receive the anesthesia, the doctor explained that it would only take a few moments, then I would drift off to sleep. I didn't remember anything until I came-to hours later.
Afterward, I would be told about the multitudes of saints interceding for me. Jim had organized a family prayer meeting that morning over Zoom, multiple friends had their entire church praying, Eric said their church in Haiti literally prayed the whole time, not off and on, but the whole time I was in surgery. It brings me to tears just thinking about it all. What other community does this sort of thing? The body of Christ is alive and well! People I knew—even more that I didn’t—prayed, fasted, and brought me before the throne of grace in my time of need.
The rest is quite hazy. The surgery took most of the day and when I cameto, I was in the ICU. There was a moment when I thought I overheard some nurses discussing the outcome of my surgery in the hallway outside the door to my room. I yelled, “I don’t want to hear the results of my surgery from your conversation!” It must have been the morphine or decadron talking 😉 I don't have a clue what they were discussing. Soon after I became more aware, a nurse let me speak with Kate on the phone. I can’t imagine the fear and anxiety she experienced that day. I'm not sure what I said, but I’m glad she knew I was okay.
That same nurse saw a Bible in my belongings and asked if I was a Christian. I told her I was and she commented that she always seemed to care for the believing patients and offered to pray. That was comforting, but then she mentioned something I didn’t fully understand.
She commented, “Now we need to pray for the pathology results …”