Terrible thoughts went through my mind as I laid flat on my back unable to move. A tear of fear streaked down my cheek. I had been visited by at least three surgeons now and on each occasion was reminded that I might not make it through the surgery, I might suffer blindness, even retardation.
I was alone, by my own choosing, secure in the thought that my dear husband was home tending to our child, a wish I had made clear he should carry out. "It is thought to be an hereditary condition," the doctor said as he inserted a tube into the artery at my groin. "You are very lucky, most people don't even know they have a brain aneurysm until it bursts and, in most cases, they die shortly afterward." I squirmed a little, the pain was intense at first. "You mustn't move, lie flat and push the button if you need anything," he said leaving me alone in this cold hospital room again.
I had been diagnosed the day before and ordered to have surgery immediately. The first thing which came to mind was my daughter, what would she do without me? Panic shook me. I returned home and held her and cuddled her until I had to leave, virtually peeling myself away from her precious little body. As my husband left me at the hospital with glassy eyes and a worried look on his face, he pleaded, "Please let me stay with you." "I will be just fine," I said, putting on a brave face. "Go and take care of my baby. I'll see you in the morning, the surgery's at seven." He hugged me tightly and left with a sob.
So, here I was alone not wanting sympathy, yet needing a friend. The pain in my groin was increasing, a nagging ache, a stab of a knife at intervals. Although not the most religious of people, not a church go-er, I had my own relationship with the Lord and I found myself praying, "God, if ever I needed you, I need you now more than ever. I can't die, I have so much yet to do. I have a husband, a life I love and, most of all, I have a child who depends on me." Another nagging ache appeared, this time in my soul at the thought of leaving her. "You can leave me blind, I don't need to see, and if you choose to inflict me with a mental disorder, that's fine too, as long as I can recognize and nurture my baby." Panic again struck. "Please God, don't take my life away, at least for my child's sake if none other, she needs me!" Sobbing set in with an utter feeling of helplessness.
The next morning was a fiasco of preparation. As I was wheeled down the hall on a gurney, I saw faces I had not seen in years. Friends from far and wide had flown in for the gruesome event. Mixed with my other close friends and family, they must have numbered at least forty. The hallway was blocked by their presence and all had encouraging words for me, sloppy kisses and genuine love on their faces. I will never forget it. The last person I saw was my husband as he tried to follow me into the operating room, not wanting to let go of my hand. I smelled the sickly odor of iodine and felt the cup placed over my mouth and nose. I only reached ninety seven before I dropped into the world of unconsciousness.
"My head hurts," I heard myself murmuring. My husband bent over me in the recovery room whispering, "It's okay, honey, the hard part is over, you are going to be okay." "Thank God," I managed to mumble just before the after-effects of the anesthesia formed in the way of projectile vomit. Before I slipped off again I heard the nurse say, "You will have to leave now. We must let her sleep."
The ICU was quiet and as I watched the gurney being taken out with the dead body of a stranger upon it, I realized I was not out of the woods yet. I said a silent prayer for him. My head pounded and nausea was a frequent visitor. Half of my face was black and my eye was so swelled and mis-shapen, I wondered if I would ever use it again. I squinted with the other eye and saw the familiar collar of a minister, I didn't know of which denomination. The pounding and stabbing feeling in my head squeezed my good eye shut again as this religious stranger bent over me and bid us pray. As he asked God to have mercy on me and lift my pain, I felt an inner peace, the pain alleviating at least to a point where I could tolerate it. I was so awed by that experience that I looked upon him as an angel.
Five days later, I was dismissed from the hospital, classed as an unusual case since my recovery had been so speedy. Although the clamps the doctors had used to seal the long cut around my scalp made me feel a little like a character in the ovie "Hellraiser", I was fine. With a little convalescence I would return to my life as if nothing had happened. I knew who my true friends were at this point and was grateful for them. I also knew I had found a TRUE FRIEND in GOD. HE had been my saviour. HE has allowed me to continue to nurture my child, my life.