How?

I lie awake at night and stare at the ceiling as the hours roll by, unable to calm my anxious mind. How did we get here? It feels like just yesterday that my biggest concern was if Brock was going to get off of work on time…now I am just lost. How can you wake up one day to a horror movie that is now your life? I keep telling myself that something’s got to give … this can’t be how the story ends. Then I think back to the funeral for my dear aunt at the age of 43, lost too soon to cancer. Life isn’t always summed up beautifully like that in a Disney movie. Life is unfair and cruel at times, filled with mountain tops and deep valleys…I guess I just always imaged we would face it together. The heartache crushes my chest and I find I need to be intentional in finding the beauty. I see it in my kids souls as they sigh with contentment in my arms when I snuggle them goodnight. I don’t discount the beauty is there I just need to call it out because the unknowns are suffocating.

I struggle to put this last month into words. It was like a snowball rolling down a mountain, gaining speed and momentum as it went. One thing led to the next, which triggered the next. The weeks and days leading up to surgery day brought a sense of heaviness. An unshakeable feeling that things were not going to go as ‘smoothly’ as the doctors anticipated. It almost felt inevitable—like a storm brewing on the horizon. I couldn’t decide if it was intuition or nerves, all I knew was that God had made it so clear that this was the next step. However, clear can often be confused with easy.

I am going to try to briefly summarize this last month in Pittsburgh and then share our next steps.

Brock had a secondary resection done in Pittsburgh on July 6th and the surgery went AMAZING! The tumor was at a very complicated spot, and a second surgery put him at higher risk for a multitude of complications. Thankfully, Brock had no issues!! Praise Jesus. The neurosurgeon left 5% of the tumor behind because of how stuck it was to the brain, and he didn’t want to cause further neurological issues. The remaining tumor will be monitored closely every couple of months to make sure there isn’t any new regrowth. During recovery, the doctors discovered a significant blood clot in his leg that ended up dislodging and going to his lungs. He had an emergency thrombectomy and they started him on heparin to prevent any more blood clots. We found out the hard way that Brock is allergic to heparin and he developed HIT, causing a series of serious complications. In the neurosurgeon’s words: “who would have thought that the brain surgery would of been the easy part?”

Each day brought fear. The suspense of waking up and wondering what the day will hold and how many more times can I bear to hear the words “uncommon”, “rare”, or “unexpected”. After multiple different kinds of transfusions, treatments, and medication adjustments, Brock was discharged to Moss rehab in Philadelphia on Friday August 5th. At Moss, Brock undergoes multiple therapies each day; including speech, occupational, and physical therapy—all in hopes of getting him mentally and physically stronger. We were able to share with the Rehab team some of the recurring struggles Brock has while living at home, particularly when his idea of reality and actual reality meet. This collision of realities often causes a lot of frustration and depression. It is exceptionally challenging to help someone who doesn’t have the capability to reason and will forget shortly afterward, thus starting back at square one.

The team was able to help coach us and come up with an outline of a behavior management plan. The team strongly encouraged a structured week for Brock as he transitions back home to help establish routine, which hopefully will ease frustration and create some memory in the form of consistency. We were advised that this transition and adjustment in care will be difficult and requires a lot of patience. It will be a learning curve as we all adjust to life in this new normal.

He was discharged home today, Monday August 15th, and it brings a bag of mixed emotions. I longed for today to be a day that I could shout to the kids: “guess what, daddy is healed and coming home!” but this isn’t the case. As much as I wish I could care for Brock here at home, it isn’t feasible. I am grateful for family who can step in and create the structure he needs. Not much has changed mentally for him, but we at least have insight into how best to help him mentally and emotionally. He will still continue with weekly therapies at an outpatient location.

These last ten months have felt like Hell. I am exhausted, angry, frustrated, upset, sad, lost and the list could go on. Specifically, these last several months, I have felt like an explorer in uncharted territory, trying to find rest. Somewhere to sit for a little bit and catch my breath. Looking for some sort of familiar location, but there is no map or guideline in this barren land.

No place to sit and sort through all of these emotions. Everything in me is screaming for some kind of security; some sort of assurance that there is life on this desolate island. What does our future look like? What kind of life is the Lord calling our family to live? I don’t know how much more I can take. I feel constantly pushed to my max plus some as I try to manage life as a single mother and wife to a confused husband. It has been difficult accepting our reality and processing my inability to providing the care and structure Brock needs, but right now I have three precious babes that are longing for their own sense of structure and normalcy. One child has been very rebellious and purposely defiant, while another is concerned anytime they forget something that they are going to also lose their memory. I have had a lot of difficult conversations with the kids as I try to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation to their tender hearts. I see their struggles and relentlessly cry out for mercy. I don't know what to do, but my (weary) eyes are upon You, Lord.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has whispered prayers on our behalf, financially sustained us, and fed us physically and emotionally. I am still here and typing because of YOU.