August 1983 The cool air and the long rays of morning sun greeted the three of us as we traveled the long driveway. It took everything in me not to start crying.
“Today’s a great day!” I said, with too much pep in my voice. I wanted to make sure I told him all he needed to know for this special day. “You’ll meet new people and it’ll be terrific!”
We continued to walk, hand in hand as we always had in the past. He stopped, looked up into my eye, and with a sober voice, “It is a great day, right, Mommy?”
Little Sis skipped along singing Great day, It’s gonna be a great day … She had no idea the somberness of this moment. But how could she? How could she know what it felt like to lose a baby into an Unknown World?
What does being courageous look like to you? Enduring a painful divorce? Walking through a frightening diagnosis and illness? Facing the death of a loved one? Finally walking through the pain of your abusive past?
We all can claim our personal fears and imperfections. Finding a voice was one of my greatest struggles. As a child, I wasn’t given the opportunity to freely express my opinions, to disagree, or to ask questions. I was often told what I was supposed to think and given no opportunity to state my fears or defend myself against accusations.
Like many people, I learned to protect myself by pleasing others.
So as I moved through my adult years, one aspect of courage for me has been to learn to be comfortable being the perfectly imperfect me. What does this mean? First and foremost, I’m a child of God. Everything about me…
Michelle Counts is my guest blogger today. If you’ve dealt with a brain tumor you will appreciate her story. If you know someone who has a brain tumor, maybe her words will help put circumstances in order. God is the Great Physician and Provider. See how he manifests himself through Michelle’s ordeal.
I had suffered migraines for most of my life, but on February 18, 2015 my trip to the ER proved migraines were the least of my problems. Once at the ER things moved so quickly. Within an hour the CAT scan administered showed I had a large brain tumor and was admitted to the hospital. The next day I met with my neurosurgeon and he told me I had a left parietal occipital baseball size tumor with attachment to the superior sagittal sinus. He scheduled my surgery for February 27th.
On the day of my surgery, I asked God if he would not only see me through my surgery but also wake me quickly so my children wouldn’t worry over their unconscious mother. I took a photo of my beautiful children with me right into the operating room with me, looking at it as they sedated me.
Running up and down steps with ease. That’s the memory from before brain surgery that bothers me the most. I miss that skill. Now I hold on to the rail that offers support. It’s just a bit of support, but I rely on it being there.
Enjoying jigsaw puzzles is another loss I face. When I look at a tabletop covered with 500 pieces of disjointed cardboard and break into a sweat. My mind is filled with chaos and I need to walk literally away from the table.