It's cliche, isn't it? I remember so clearly. It was 2003. My lovely daughter, my only daughter, was six years old. She started to have seizures. After an evaluation and MRI, the doctor called my wife and I into a solitary conference room. While I don't recall every word the young doctor said, I do remember:
"blah, blah, blah, blah, MASS, blah, blah, blah, CANCER, blah, blah . . ."
Time stopped for me. The doctor's face grew a little blurry. I tensed. Terrible thoughts began to fall into my head like pebbles in a glass jar. Dear God . . .
Now, seven years later, that evil little mass has come back to haunt us. My wife and I learned today that our daughter will need brain surgery to resolve what have become increasingly violent seizures. At thirteen, she is seizing several times a day, many of them "silent seizures" which don't manifest themselves outwardly but are significant enough to delay both her mental and emotional development.
The neurologist we met with today was friendly and professional. He patiently explained all of the options and the procedures in detail. He showed us on a small and detailed model of the brain where the lesion (for that's what we're calling this mass now) is located and the potential effects on our daughter's speech and memory retention.
I understood everything he shared and asked every question I could think of.
Well, okay, not EVERY question, but some of the questions I have could not be addressed to this young doctor. They must be asked of a much Higher Authority.
Why our daughter? Why her? This may seem selfish to some of you, but it comes from the heart. God, why must she suffer like this? Why, at such a tender age, must she be made to face this ogre, this hulking beast of epilepsy and surgery and recovery and therapy? God, can you give it to me? Could You remove the lesion from her and put it in my head? Could you let ME take her place on the operating table?
My wife and I shared the news with our daughter when we got home. Many tears were shed as we sat on the side of the bed and tried our best to allay her fears. I'm not sure how successful we were.
As believers in Y'shua the Messiah (Jesus the Christ), we know that all things will work out for good. This is one of the Bible's most precious promises. I sincerely believe this Scripture to be true. But the journey to realizing this promise can be hell.
Pray for us.
I'll keep you posted . . . .
