Today I went down to the hospital to visit my sister. This is day 7 after her surgery. Her surgeon, Prof Thomas had exclaimed with confidence that the operation was a sailing success and prior to the operation had told her she can expect to be home on day 8.
She feels this unyielding pressure on her head which worsens at bedtime or when she moves.
Brain surgery is a sensitive piece of work.
The porter came by to wheel her upstairs for physiotherapy. I decided to go along. The rehab room was busy even though the movements were slow and tentative. A disinterested looking tall Indian physio was introduced to us as observing for audit purposes. Slowly, they asked her to perform different tasks to assess her sense of balance and to check if any optical nerves or vestibule-related concerns need to be addressed.
Somehow watching my older sister going through this made a weakness come over me. I wasn't going to faint; but when she teared, I did too. Perhaps I felt impotent. Or perhaps all our years of growing up, working, and being successful - especially since we started in humble circumstances - fell about us and we were as vulnerable as tykes figuring out a bike: she struggled to stand steady while I wrestled to be strong for her.
Sometimes, no matter how strong we have been, we feel unsteady. But it's a temporary upset. It isn't pleasant. It may take a while before we find our feet.
She feels this unyielding pressure on her head which worsens at bedtime or when she moves.
Brain surgery is a sensitive piece of work.
The porter came by to wheel her upstairs for physiotherapy. I decided to go along. The rehab room was busy even though the movements were slow and tentative. A disinterested looking tall Indian physio was introduced to us as observing for audit purposes. Slowly, they asked her to perform different tasks to assess her sense of balance and to check if any optical nerves or vestibule-related concerns need to be addressed.
Somehow watching my older sister going through this made a weakness come over me. I wasn't going to faint; but when she teared, I did too. Perhaps I felt impotent. Or perhaps all our years of growing up, working, and being successful - especially since we started in humble circumstances - fell about us and we were as vulnerable as tykes figuring out a bike: she struggled to stand steady while I wrestled to be strong for her.
Sometimes, no matter how strong we have been, we feel unsteady. But it's a temporary upset. It isn't pleasant. It may take a while before we find our feet.
The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms.
~ Deuteronomy 33v27
This uncertain journey and all the courage it took would not happen without the extensions of these everlasting arms: the prayers of many, the care and concern of friends and family. Even as I dried my tears and breathed deep, I let these Arms steady me, and help me to be present enough for my sister.
There are important questions to ask, things to learn, decisions to make.
Being held and present is important.
I probed a little and finally wrote down the main areas of concern we wanted to raise with the neurosurgeon. {do that because the doctors aren't easy to catch hold of!}
A few hours later, this phone message: thanks for coming by today.
I came by sister; but Someone never left.
