Space, time, warmth. A breath of light in the morning. Always wondering what's at our back. Sending back anything less than a morsel of hope and determination that this path was the right one.
We took Meara back to the hospital today for a MRI and consult with neurosurgery. She's been throwing up ever since we got home on Sunday and has been really lethargic. She's lost about 5 pounds since surgery a week ago. The MRI showed fluid along the right side of her head but nothing out of the ordinary with her brain (like infection or bleeding).
The neurosurgeon said the MRI looks fine and prescribed steroids to ease the swelling from the fluid. Hopefully this will ease her pain, help her head and tummy feel better so she can eat and get some energy back.
She is still having seizures. Not giving up hope. Not giving up. Sweetie, it's alright. It's alright.
Along this ridged and ragged road where decisions are made and avenues brought into the wide open light it's among the debris that meaning can be made. It's a precious thing to be dragged across a path of uncertainty and dangerous wonders. Because although I believe Meara is going to live a happy and fulfilled life it is within this journey that we have literally no control over the outcomes of these medical treatments and intervention. No matter how hard we try, how much we throw ourselves in earnest and resolve...we are only but clasped hands begging for some meaning in all of this. I think we've found the meaning...
I think we've found the meaning.