It's Tuesday, late in the morning. As I write this, my daughter is at the children's hospital having small tubes fished through her arteries and led to her brain. It's called a Wada test, so named after the physician who invented it, and will determine the location of Hannah's speech and memory. This, in turn, will tell us whether she is a candidate for surgery.
Hannah had to leave this morning to the hospital very early. It was still dark as she clutched her stuffed animal and climbed into the minivan with her mother, preparing to make the 45 minute drive. I've been tasked with staying home with our boys while mother and daughter are gone. I'm not much of a cook, but I managed to make them breakfast and clean up a bit.
Hannah had to leave this morning to the hospital very early. It was still dark as she clutched her stuffed animal and climbed into the minivan with her mother, preparing to make the 45 minute drive. I've been tasked with staying home with our boys while mother and daughter are gone. I'm not much of a cook, but I managed to make them breakfast and clean up a bit.
I confess I'm distracted. I keep thinking about Hannah lying on the narrow table in the cath-lab, surrounded by clacking machines and smiling strangers who will poke her with large needles. I mentally understand the procedure. Both my wife and I accept the risks, hoping that this will all work for Hannah's favor eventually. Emotionally, however, I am frustrated, angered by a sagging acknowledgement that I have absolutely no control over this epilepsy, this shadowy ogre that has robbed my daughter of the sharp and curious mind she possessed when she was a toddler.
I just received a telephone call from my wife. Hannah is done with the procedure and now must lay perfectly still on her back for five hours until the gaping hole in her femoral artery has begun to close. Hannah had to be stuck in both femoral arteries, as the first stick on the right side didn't work. More pain, more tears, more healing. She and mom should be back home by the late afternoon.
I'm trying to keep the boys busy, occupied with something that will not rot their minds. I guess I'm trying to keep myself busy, too. The clock is running unusually slow today. It's raining outside. Appropriate.
We should learn the results of Hannah's Wada in about a week. Then, based on these results, we will plan the next step.
I'll keep you posted.
Dear Rabbi Yosi,
ReplyDeleteWe love you Rabbi Yosi. You and your family are in our prayers, continually, which we raise before G-d, as we think of you often. We are praying for Hannah for the strength to make it through all of this, and that G-d guides the doctors to reveal to them what is going wrong in Hannah’s body…and that G-d shows the doctors what to do to alleviate the seizures, as much as possible. We are also praying for G-d, as the Healer to speed up the process of the problems created by the seizures -- to take care of the seizures in His way.
I have been keeping Hannah and your family in my prayers, since the first day that you mentioned about the seizures that Hannah has been struggling with and about the procedure that she was most likely going to be undergoing. I have been praying for
G-d’s protection, His grace and His mercy towards Hannah.
I understand how difficult it can be undergoing poking, prodding, testing and different kinds of procedures, as the doctors attempt to figure out what is going on in your body, that is not working as it should be...and even when the doctors appear to be stumped by it all. It's even worse for Hannah, at a young age, to undergo such an extreme procedure...especially, since it involves pain.
My heart and my prayers have been going out to you and are being lifted up to G-d for Hannah daily, as I think of her often….and for you and your wife, Rabbi Yosi, since it is very difficult to sit on the sidelines and feel somewhat helpless in being able to help your daughter to “fix it”…to find a way to make the seizures go away.
But remember we serve the L-RD G-D ALMIGHTY, The Creator of the Universe and all that is in it. Nothing is too difficult for G-D to handle, after all He made us and knows us very intimately. He knows and understands when we hurt and He promised that He would never leave us alone or forsake us, even in the midst of our trials. So take heart, for Hannah, you and the rest of your family are sheltered in the arms of G-d…no matter what winds of trouble are swirling around you in your life.
It’s like being in the eye of a very strong hurricane, where the storm threatens to tear everything apart that is in its path, but in the eye of the storm, there is total calm, no matter what is happening all around it. G-d can calm the winds and the waves in our lives, but sometimes G-d teaches us to trust Him more strongly by showing us that He will shelter us in the eye of the storm, even while we are in the middle of the storm. But rest assured that G-d is there with you, even in the eye of the storm. Rest under G-d’s wings (Psalms 91:1-15, especially verse 4 under His wings I will take refuge). It’s the best place to be, even in a ferocious storm.