Brent's side of our bathroom vanity is plastered with inspirational quotes. The quote wall is something I often openly mock but secretly love. The contributors run the gamut from Gordon B. Hinckley to Jack Black. Somewhere along Brent's spectrum of brilliant minds sits Winston Churchill. One quote from him caught my eye before bed last night and has been burning in my mind ever since.
"I am an optimist. It does not seem too much use being anything else."
This is my motto for today. What good does it do any of us to be anything but optimistic?
I might have wavered a bit after meeting with the pediatric anesthesiologist who went over the dangers of brain surgery and ran down a laundry list of possible outcomes including stroke, nerve damage, etc. He did call us "veterans" at this whole brain surgery thing. I'm not quite sure yet how I feel about that comment, so we'll just leave it at that.
I also might have started shaking when the neurosurgeon reminded us that "this is a big deal". "We're going to be aggressive." "This is his one shot." (Gesturing to Keith). Basically, if we don't resect a very good portion of this tumor, therapy is not going to do much good.
Brent and I told ourselves that as medical professionals the physicians are obligated to explain all the risks. And despite those risks we still feel very optimistic. Remember it doesn't do any good to be anything else.
I also feel gratitude today. While we were in the pre-surgery area, there was a young mother and a beautiful baby boy headed for a second heart surgery. The mother had a laptop in her son's crib where her husband was available via Skype since he is currently serving in Iraq. Our hearts went out to her. She did have a friend and her pastor with her but that is not nearly the same as having a spouse's hand to hold or having a spouse give reassurance like only he or she can. Sometimes we think we have it the worst but in reality, we never do. Brent and I reminded each other of that and were even more grateful for each other. I said a silent prayer for that baby, his family and his medical team.
Currently, we are waiting out another surgery. This one is not as technical as the last one but every bit as important. In order for Keith's treatment plan to remain in the "Standard risk" category as opposed to the "Moderate or High risk" category, we need to remove close to all of this tumor. The pathology results show that this is not a classic medulloblastoma but shows signs of a slightly more aggressive type of medulloblastoma. Since at 3 years and 3 months, he barely exceeds the radiation age minimum of 3 years old, we would obviously like to keep his young brain at the lowest radiation rate as possible. If the surgeons can remove enough, Keith won't have to receive those stronger amounts of radiation and chemotherapy used for cases in the "moderate to high risk" category but can remain in the "Standard risk" category.
So, we are waiting. But we are hopeful and faithful and optimistic. Thank you again to countless people out there who are praying and fasting for us and simply keeping us in your thoughts. We've received many words of encouragement from many people and in many forms. Thank you. Please know how much it means to us.
6 comments:
My Brent has a quote wall in our bathroom too! It must be the name.
I am thinking about all of you. We love you. You are in my constant prayers.
Girl friend - I cannot get you off my mind. Just got back from a run, had checked the blog this morning and came in to find this new post. I am going to say a prayer for you right now before my kids get home from school. The Lord is aware of us - you, your family, Keith - and those grandparents who I know need our prayers too! Your families' love is tangible through this blog. I pray for you all.
Isn't that the truth, just when we think we have it bad...someone else always has it worse.
Just the same, Keith and your family are continually in our prayers.
Your family is constantly on my mind, my prayers were for you this Wednesday. As I got up from my morning prayers I looked outside and saw the snow falling. My first thought? I hope that Keith can beat his snowbeasts today. We love you <3
what an incredible post. your attitude is so motivating and admirable. we have being thinking about, talking about, praying for, and fasting for your family for the past few weeks. we love you.
It's so strange to read your words, because they are exactly the same as mine in so many ways--down to the scenario. We have often counted our blessings as we always find others who have it worse than us in some way or another. Not that I'm comparing, but it does make one feel tremendous gratitude for what we have. I was just telling my mother-in-law how this kind of experience changes a person and suddenly trivial cares/concerns seem so foolish. We each have our own "perspective" though, and trials feel real to the individual. Not sure if that makes sense.
Anyhow, we've thought of you all day and prayed for little Keith and the doctors that their hands will be directed to remove the tumor. We love your family without knowing you.
You're right. Optimism is the only thing you can control right now, so yes, why be anything else? Thanks for that thought!
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