Four years ago this week, my daughter underwent surgery on her spine to repair a broken neck. When I re-visit memories from that time, I turn over many questions that remained unanswered until the surgery itself. One of those questions was if the pediatric neurosurgeon would be able to correct Faith’s problem — a malformation of her second vertebrae — the more secure way or the less secure way.
If the doctor was able to correct it the more secure way, by inserting a pin into the bone on each side of her vertebrae, she would be able to wear a neck brace post-op. But if her bones were too small for this procedure and he had to use a less sturdy means of treating her injury internally, she would have to wear something that provided additional security externally during recovery: a halo. A halo is a more restrictive apparatus than a neck brace, a type of headgear that attaches to the forehead through 4 pins and keeps the head and neck completely and totally still.
Obviously, we prayed circumstances would allow our girl to wear the neck brace rather than the halo.
The neurosurgeon, Dr. Grabb, told me a nurse would call us in the waiting room from the OR just as soon as he knew the viable option. So my husband and I sat in that hospital room, murmuring and fidgeting and reading the same paragraphs of magazine articles over and over as we waited.
That whole time felt like a held breath, like someone hit the pause button on our lives. Read along here for the rest of the story? And share about a waiting time in your own life?
If a life change brings a time of waiting to your life today, perhaps this book would help?
