Head Games

Two years ago my neurosurgeon informed me that the tumor had regrown. I needed to have another surgery as well as radiation treatment weeks afterward. I thought about the people I knew who had gone through multiple brain surgeries and their daily challenges. I thought about my gray matter being exposed to oxygen and a knife yet again, and the uncertainty of the outcome. And I prayed for a miraculous healing that would swoop me away from the nurses prepping me for surgery and the nauseating recovery. Instead of my prayer being answered the way I wanted, a memory from Sunday school came to mind: the son of God crying, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

I'm not the only one to go through this, and I'm not the only person to suffer in the midst of expert statements and optimistic smiles. Today it is all too common to hear, "How could he be sick? He's the picture of health," or read a friend's blog saying, "Jon's second round of chemo is going well." The numbers of friends and colleagues facing physical crises is alarming. I've known 10 people with brain tumors, and, sadly, I've attended five of their funerals. It has been important to grieve the absence of their voices and gifts in this world, what might have been if they had lived. It has also been important to celebrate their words, which continue to speak into my life and the lives of those around me.

At a wedding recently I met a young man with Down syndrome. He was high-functioning and articulate, and I genuinely enjoyed talking with him. After chatting about how we knew the bride and groom, he said, "Most people don't listen to me, but you do." I didn't expect him to say that much, or to have such a well-placed finger on the pulse of my intentions. But the statement summarized my approach to life, the way to get through it all day by day. Each day we are given is an opportunity to seek out voices of clarity regardless of expectations and appearances. That's how I survive and how I plan to face the next comment, normal or not.

Isaacson lives in Verona, N.D.

© 2008