"Prepare for the Worst, Hope for the Best" ?

Tomorrow morning Noah is getting his bone flap (left side of his skull) put back in. In certain ways, this is only the beginning-- we still have cognitive work to do. In other ways, we hope for closure-- from a physiological perspective. Despite the reassurances that this surgery is simple compared to what we've already been through, tomorrow my brother goes into brain surgery.

"Prepare for the worst, hope for the best"

That's what multiple nurses told me from the period from July 28 until Noah came out of his coma on August 6...the 10 worst days of my life (and I suspect those of my entire family). As is the case with most pivotal moments in my life, Noah on the other hand, slept through the entire ordeal.



It's a strange feeling to know the exact worst moment of your life and the exact best moment of your life. For me, the identification of each is now simple -- and that fact alone has unequivocally changed my life. How insignificant my pre-rupture priorities now seem.

I think as a result of liability, nurses and others are forced to paint a cautious and often pessimistic picture for you when you're in a life-threatening situation. False hope can be a dangerous thing for those at the furthest reaches of emotional volatility and financial burden. "Prepare for the worst, hope for the best."

As I promised in a previous post, I will soon detail all of the miracles: the predictions and warnings that proved false. But it's not time yet to count blessings; we have to make it through tomorrow.

So one more time, we ask for your prayers; your positivity; your light.

Right after Noah's rupture 3 months ago, when I was warned of the inevitable mental "deficiencies" Noah would have as a result of the removal of the healthy brain tissue of his lower-left occipital lobe -- I kept trying to tell myself and others that until someone told me that it was absolutely impossible, I believed that Noah would walk out of the hospital and make a full recovery. Well, on Saturday, August 22nd -- 25 days after Noah's rupture, he walked out of St. Jude's medical center, got in a car with my parents and drove home.

So tomorrow, rather than ask you to "prepare for the worst and hope for the best;" we ask that you believe that Noah can make it through once again -- and fight with us until that happens.