“So, he cuts your head open, does the drilling, and takes the inner ear stuff out, you know, since it isn’t working anymore anyway, then I come in and get the part out next to your brain.”
I scratch my neck and purse my lips.
“Drilling?” I ask.
“Well, yeah.” He says as he makes a knocking motion with his fist behind his ear. “We gotta get in there.”
So this is how chief neurosurgeons and heads of renowned Neurosciences departments talk about their work.
Like it’s a matter of manipulating blocks and playdoh? Child’s play. I guess after removing 25 of these tumors every year for the last 20 years or so, he can talk like that.
It certainly calmed my mind down a bit. Here I was thinking it was a big deal. Silly me.
Thankfully, he also said, while looking at my husband’s MRI images for the first time, “Oh. This doesn’t impress me.”
I’m glad. I’m kinda tired of impressing doctors.
“See, those guys are trained to never touch the brain. But I’ve been trained to know what to touch and how to touch it and move it around to get to what I need to get to.”
Oh. Right. No big deal.
Brain surgery. It seems so daunting – until you listen to the guy who does it all day all the time. I mean, in an 8-10 hour surgery, they probably take a lunch break, right?
“Yeah…sure, I’ll have the chicken sandwich and fries and a diet coke today, thanks. Yeah…make it to go…there’s a guy upstairs with a hole in his head waiting for me to come finish a tumor extraction…”
(Note: I don’t know this for sure…but I know I couldn’t play with playdoh for 8-10 hours in a day without a food break….)
For me and my husband, this is a once in a lifetime ordeal. (Hopefully.)
But for him, it’s routine.
And we signed all the pre-operation papers. Because we trust that he is who he claims to be. And after one conversation, we trust he can successfully do what he says he will do.
My life. It’s the only one I have. It’s the only one I’ve lived and ever will live. And sometimes it seems so daunting to me. Until I start listening to the One who designed it. Each day of it. He built each component of it. Almost like manipulating playdoh and blocks and then breathing life into them. For Him it was like very intentional child’s play. A work of creative masterpiece that He sustains each and every second of every day for every person.
And I go to live my one life and the things that lie in front of me seem so daunting. So terrifying and large. But He looks at it and says, “Don’t panic…I’ll keep a firm grip on you.”
Sometimes He moves things around and touches things that I always thought weren’t allowed to be touched. My children. My husband. My baby. But He can touch them. He created them. He created me. He knows how to move things around to change what He needs to change. To remove things that need to be removed, so that I can be more beautiful and precious in His sight when it’s all finished.
And He talks about it over and over in Scripture. He has a proven track record with stories of successful operations. He’s been doing this since the beginning of time. He looks at my life, that He ordained from the beginning and ordered like a daily prescription and says, “This doesn’t surprise me.”
I listen to that man, who will literally hold the life of my husband in his hands; who has more capital letter abbreviations after his name than in his name itself. And I feel an earthly calm come over me – he does know what he’s doing. He’s done this before. This is not new to him. This isn’t even hard for him.
And more so, I listen to my own Designer, my Creator, my Savior, who literally holds every breath of my life and my husband’s and yours in His sustaining hands. The One Who has more names than I could ever need. And I begin to relax a little more. A little more heavenly peace comes over me. Because God is Who He says He is, and He does what He says He will do. I’ve seen it happen my entire life. He knows what He’s doing. None of this is new to Him. This isn’t even difficult for Him.