Late last evening, under the cover of dark, John and Jack bustled me into the car and we got outa Dodge! The trip home was filled with humorous chatter and serious conversation, some of which didn't have anything to do with my brain! What a relief!
Tired as we were, I realized we were still surrounded with the palpable encouragement and support of our family and friends and many wonderful people we don't know who were willing to pray for us throughout this time of trial. We send our heartfelt thanks to each one who lifted our needs before the Throne of Grace! Please know that our Heavenly Father answered your prayers.
The procedure went well. Dr. Jensen and her team labored faithfully and skillfully and made their decision to not coil the aneurysm based on its size, shape, location, and size of the artery involved. During the angiogram they actually left the operating room to look more closely at the images and spent time discussing the pros and cons of coiling and not coiling. Ultimately, Dr. Jensen made the call that she would leave well enough alone and have me check back for a CTA or MRA scan in six months to see if anything has changed and go from there.
As you might know, ours is a very goal-oriented family! When they told me in the operating room that they were not going to treat the aneurysm, I was disappointed and asked them for clarification....maybe I didn't hear right. But when Dr. Jensen showed me the aneurysm on the monitor, and explained her reasoning, I remembered that our prayer throughout this time was, not only for the aneurysm coiling to be done successfully, but above all that God's will, not ours, would be done and that He would receive the glory! At that moment I felt the peace of Christ that passes all understanding. All those requests for skill and wisdom for Dr. Jensen and everyone in the operating room were answered. All of those requests for my safety during the procedure were answered. All of those requests for peace for Jack and our children were answered. And many more prayers were answered, too, for safety, strengthening relationships, peace that passes understanding.....and many more requests were answered. Thanks be to God who is faithful to give us good gifts in accordance with His will!
So today I'm supposed to "take it easy". For a couple of weeks I'm not supposed to hoist any weights, but I can carry light grocery bags and small laundry baskets! No restrictions on driving or cooking! And later in the month we look forward to flying up to Maine and hike some easy (or maybe moderate) trails. Yes, I continue to live with a small brain aneurysm, certainly a known risk, but then all of life has risks. From the moment of conception all of us face the certainty that we will one day leave this earth, whether we know it or not! With that certainty in mind, all the more passionately I look to Christ as my Hope in this life and for all eternity and say with the Psalmist:
When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered,
I was senseless and ignorant;
I was a brute beast before you.
Yet I am always with you:
You hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
And afterward you will take me into glory!
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
But God is the strength of my heart
And my portion forever.
Those who are far from you will perish;
You destory all who are unfaithful to you.
But as for me, it is good to be near God.
I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge;
I will tell of all your deeds.
(Psalm 73:21-28)
So, I hope you will join with me today and say with confidence, "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever!" He has dealt kindly with His children! He is faithful and always will be!
To Him be the glory!
Love and thanks always,
Dolly
Thursday, September 4, 2008
On the other hand...
Good news! The CT scan showed no problems, so they let us go! We jumped in the car before they changed their mind, and we headed for Richmond. Looking forward to spending the night in more familiar surroundings. Long day.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Spending the night
Dr. Kahn has ruled out a stroke, and he has ordered a CT scan on Mom's leg to determine whether there has been some bruising (which should be able to fix itself) or some leakage from the artery (which would be more serious) that is causing the numbness.
They are doing blood work now and plan to take her for a CT scan in the next 20 minutes or so.
They are doing blood work now and plan to take her for a CT scan in the next 20 minutes or so.
Bit concerned in recovery
She's having some unusual numbness in her lower right leg. Calling the Dr. back to the hospital.
Exhaling...Good news, Bad news.
She's out of the operating room and she came through the arteriogram fine. Big exhale.
Unfortunately, they weren't able to coil the aneurysm. It wasn't of the size or shape to repair with the coiling method. She should be able to released this evening.
They want her to come back for annual arteriograms to monitor the status.
Unfortunately, they weren't able to coil the aneurysm. It wasn't of the size or shape to repair with the coiling method. She should be able to released this evening.
They want her to come back for annual arteriograms to monitor the status.
Now, the Big Wait
Dad, Steph, Kate and I waited in the small Radiology check-in waiting room, while the Espositos and the Brickers went to Family Surgical Waiting. After about 20 minutes, a nurse appeared to escort us back to where they had prep'd Mom.
She was in a 3-bay, white prep room with a couple of medical techs at desks and digital equipment lined along the walls. Each patient area was cordoned off with those thin, sheet-like curtains. A lady with a neck brace was in the first bay, sitting on the bed. There was no one in the second bay. Mom was in a hospital bed in the third bay. She beamed a plucky smile as we came in. She somehow had evaded the lipstick police--she still had her makeup on.
We each told her that we loved her. Dad prayed for her and her surgical team, and then Mom prayed. I don't remember what she said. I didn't want to close my eyes. It seemed like too much of a sacrifice to be so close and not to take her in. With the white hospital blankets gathered under her chin, her tanned face almost floated above the white sheet that covered the bed. Her eyes closed in prayer, I watched her and could only think that she seems much too young and beautiful to be going through all of this.
We hugged and kissed her. Somber, but hopeful. Glad to be proceeding. Steph, Kate and I left. Dad and Mom spent a few minutes together.
The nurse did not want to commit to a time period for completion. We expect it will take two or three hours, but we don't really know.
We're camped out in something called the Surgical Family Waiting Room. It's filled with dozens of those ugly hospital-vinyl chairs. The hypnotic drone of daytime television is coming somewhere from the corner of the room. Clots of people are in various states of semi-consciousness.
We're all the way in the opposite corner, near the door. Joe and Janice have already been asked to leave (no food or drink allowed). It seems like there is some high-tech electronic shield around this room that prevents any wifi or cell phone signal from penetrating. We wait.
She was in a 3-bay, white prep room with a couple of medical techs at desks and digital equipment lined along the walls. Each patient area was cordoned off with those thin, sheet-like curtains. A lady with a neck brace was in the first bay, sitting on the bed. There was no one in the second bay. Mom was in a hospital bed in the third bay. She beamed a plucky smile as we came in. She somehow had evaded the lipstick police--she still had her makeup on.
We each told her that we loved her. Dad prayed for her and her surgical team, and then Mom prayed. I don't remember what she said. I didn't want to close my eyes. It seemed like too much of a sacrifice to be so close and not to take her in. With the white hospital blankets gathered under her chin, her tanned face almost floated above the white sheet that covered the bed. Her eyes closed in prayer, I watched her and could only think that she seems much too young and beautiful to be going through all of this.
We hugged and kissed her. Somber, but hopeful. Glad to be proceeding. Steph, Kate and I left. Dad and Mom spent a few minutes together.
The nurse did not want to commit to a time period for completion. We expect it will take two or three hours, but we don't really know.
We're camped out in something called the Surgical Family Waiting Room. It's filled with dozens of those ugly hospital-vinyl chairs. The hypnotic drone of daytime television is coming somewhere from the corner of the room. Clots of people are in various states of semi-consciousness.
We're all the way in the opposite corner, near the door. Joe and Janice have already been asked to leave (no food or drink allowed). It seems like there is some high-tech electronic shield around this room that prevents any wifi or cell phone signal from penetrating. We wait.
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