An Aneurysm, Fistula, and Promise of God

For the last three mornings, I’ve had to wake, dress, and make myself presentable before leaving my hotel room to buy a cup of coffee. Why? Because after much internal debate, I drove to Ridgecrest last weekend to attend a Christian Writer’s Conference.

Nestled on a mountain side, classes and food intake have required a lot of walking. So, I've eaten, connected one on one with conferees, and only occasionally found my way to a workshop. Unable to keep pace, however, mental battles ensued.

Recent medical tests added to the haze. When my face drooped down and left two weeks ago, a doctor ordered a CT scan of my brain. When it came back normal, she ordered an MRI and an MRA. When a potential brain aneurysm showed, my neurologist ordered a CT angiogram.

The CT angiogram was completed before I left and the results came in an email from my internal medicine doctor yesterday morning. Since the 3 x 2 mm aneurysm was confirmed, I was told I would hear from neurology soon.

After 24 hours to acclimate to the news, I was a bit surprised when the neurologist wrote today and explained there are actually two spots: the aneurysm in my left carotid artery and an “abnormality” behind my left eye which requires another neuro-radiologist’s opinion.

After pressing for more information, I learned that the “abnormality” is a Carotid Cavernous Fistula and could very well be the reason for my double vision. That said, as soon as I get home, I’ll drive my scans to Emory University where big heads and large brains will form a plan of action. 

Can someone shout, “Hallelujah, Amen!”

With all of this swirling some where inside as the conference cranked up, I initially gave way to fears and tears. The hills did not feel alive and seemed impossible to climb. So, I skipped the opening dinner and hid in the coffee shop instead.

However, before I left my room Monday morning, I checked FB. There I learned that a 15-year-old member of our church had succumbed to her injuries after a tree fell on her Friday night. I didn’t know Joelle, but it was obvious that those who did were terribly broken by the loss.

Struck by their grief, I took stock. Nerve pain still ricocheted through my left foot, the buzz of want-to-be-authors overwhelmed my senses, and hours of waiting for test results lay ahead. But I wasn’t crushed by a tree. I was alive at a conference, free to slowly walk wherever God led.

So, I embraced the day in Joelle’s honor, determined to live and reach for whatever God had for me simply because I was here, breathing, left for a purpose.

When I walked out of my hotel room for one last event earlier tonight, I turned a corner and ran into a rainbow. Drizzling rain dampened my hair as I snapped a few photos that don't begin to capture the magnitude. 

But I didn't care.

Nothing mattered in that moment. Not my eyes. Not my legs. Not my dreams. 

For God had finger painted his promise across the sky. And that promise remains eternal and true, meaning it will all be okay in the big picture way.

There's a lot of hard life yet to live. But we'll take care of that one day at a time. Together. In prayer. Trusting that nothing's beyond His reach. 

Not aneurysms, fistulas, or broken hearts. 

"God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells" (Psalm 46: 1 - 4 NIV).

all photos courtesy of pixabay.com