I'm trying to be grateful, to be brave and upbeat like you. But sometimes in the early morning hours watching you sleep, wondering what next, the fear overtakes me. A mother's overwhelming gut wrenching fear for her babes. The fear of the unnamed dangers lurking all around your sleeping form. How can I protect you from so many unknowns. I can barely breathe. You've overcome every challenge. You've clawed your way back from so many devastating setbacks. How many more mountains must you climb? How many more disappointments must you endure? How can we find the path?
When the resident told us late last night that the MRI did not demonstrate any CSF leaks, your response was, " just because the MRI didn't find a leak, doesn't mean it's not there, right"? Way to read between the lines, Champ. You are too perceptive sometimes. So here we are day 13 and we still don't have any definitive answers or a clear plan...yet. But we are bouyed up by Pops, Tami, your friends week end visits, by the positive energy of your nurses and night sitters, by Toliver's ever present unconditional love. And we will face this new day with gratitude for your unsinkable spirit, continued confidence in Hopkins doctors and faith that God loves you and will not let us fail.
There's talk of yet another surgery today to totally clamp shut the tube draining your CSF in order to once and for all rule that out as the source of the overdrainage. There's also talk of injecting contrast dye into your spinal column to try to detect a leak that the CT and MRI might have missed. Each of these options comes with risks so our prayer today is that we find some answers without creating new problems for you to battle. God bless, Champ. I'll do my best to, "tough it up" as you like to say. I'll face my own fears head on, embracing this day with gratitude and the belief that anything is still possible.
Blessed to be,