The past 2 weeks have been a mental tug-of-war. I’ve spent half of my time fearfully and obsessively thinking about and researching surgery outcomes/complications/recovery times (helpful hint: don’t look at Google images for the search term: middle fossa craniotomy). The other half of the time I’ve been trying to make myself not obsessively think about or research surgery outcomes/complications/ recovery times. I’ve had entire days go by where the only thing I’ve thought about was surgery. Just being real.
I’m part of a SCDS support group for people with this diagnosis and while it’s comforting to know I am not alone and that there are plenty of people who have been through the surgery successfully…it’s also scary. Because you see the struggles. You see what it’s really like for some of them on the road to recovery. You see the tears, the frustration, the complications. You see the ones who stay dizzy for 6 months and the ones who never seem to get better. And that makes it all much more real. Fear sinks in a bit deeper. Anxiety creeps up a little more frequently. Uncertainty begins to surface every hour. Doubt of whether I can really do this settles in and makes itself right at home in my daily thoughts.
I think these past 2 weeks needed to happen. I needed to obsess over it all. I needed to lose sleep over it. I needed to pour all of my energy into basically freeeeaaaaaaking out over this surgery. I needed to get it all out of my system now. Because I don’t want to be in this place 2 months from now. I refuse to sink into an ocean of anxiety. I refuse to enter into that hospital with more fear than faith.
Thankfully, God helped me out of my tailspin and has pointed my feet in a different direction. I have exactly 60 days ahead of me to focus on what really matters (yep, that would be Jesus).
I can’t focus on my own journey if I keep looking at everyone else’s. I can’t focus on my own healing if I’m constantly thinking about the problems other people have encountered. How can I expect to experience peace and miraculous healing if I’m always worried about what can go wrong? I have to retrain my eyes to focus on the Lord through this. I can’t keep looking down, wondering if and when I’m going to fall.
I want to be light as air going into this surgery and recovery. I want to be strong, brave, confident. I want to be so hopeful that walk through this with a smile on my face because I am so sure of God’s faithfulness in my healing. It’s 100% not natural to walk into brain surgery and have no fear. But that’s what I want. I want that irrational hope that laughs in the face of dread.
But in order to get to that place, I have to focus and rely completely on the Lord. Because like I said, it’s not natural to walk into this with no fear. It’s wildly illogical. It’s going to take a supernatural leap of faith in my heart to get to that place. But I’m praying and trusting God to help me make that leap.
I think it’s going to take a lot of prayer. Probably a lot of focus and resolve too. It’s going to require me to reject the fear and doubt that tries to creep in. While I’m at it, I should probably rid myself of self-pity, distraction, comparison, unbelief and my tendency to waver. All to make room for the Holy Spirit to minister to my heart and begin building my trust and confidence. Come April 2nd, I want to believe God for miraculous healing so confidently that I don’t even remember what it was like to doubt.
Jesus replied, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith and do not doubt…you can say to this mountain, ‘go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and it will be done.” ~Matthew 21:21