Another Long Night

Chapter 1

~ Day One ~

None of this was expected.

She had an embolization procedure to block arterial blood supply to a metastasized tumour in her liver a week prior to the nightmare that evolved. I had thought when the fevers and nausea passed she too had passed through the time of concern into the well earned state of rest and recovery. I had thought the most vexing challenge in the near future would be the wait for further scans to determine the effectiveness of the treatment. Would this malignant and inoperable mass retreat sufficiently to be surgically removed along with the primary GI site of her neuroendocrine cancer and give our daughter a fighting chance? These were the pressing questions on my mind but they paled in comparison to the crisis coming her way and mine.

The temporarily lightened load of apprehensiveness at the end of that first week turned abruptly to become a weighty uncomprehending worry. Where a calm confidence resided the day before, there is now an agonizing inward cry. What is happening?! A frantic and emotional confusion has taken up residence overnight in a mind whose rapid decline was quickly losing touch with reality. Tender fragility peeks through the windows of her gentle soul behind prison bars of chaos and uncertainty. Scripted loops of heartbreaking remorse weep over things she has not done. Tremors. Muscle contractions. Intense flushing. Seizures. Gait disturbance.

At this early stage there are still moments of clarity when she knows everything is off and fights to regain control. Through frightened frustration and tears she tells us she is talking craziness, that nothing is the same inside, that her head is acting strange. Then, wrenching instability rises and the transparent connections to lucidity take on more and more of a translucent quality and move increasingly downward on a sliding scale towards opaqueness.

We watch her disappear into the swirling mists of this unknown storm assaulting her whole being. It came out of nowhere, completely by surprise. It bears down with a vengeance, unrelenting, taking ground with each fresh gust of renewed aggression against her very life and sanity.

I turn my eyes upwards in silent prayer, ‘O Lord, please no!’

Where is she going and will she come back?

Will she return to her right mind and if not, what happens then?

Is she moving towards her final departure?

The possible eventuality of navigating a health crisis or extended convalescence where her essential nature is compromised has not crossed my mind until this alarming new set of symptoms abruptly manifests and stares me down in a show of malevolent power. Her advanced disease maliciously conceals its hand and stands in the shadows taunting, mocking. A raging riptide of regression rushes aggressively from the ominous waves washing over her and rips away my sense of balance. Pieces of her essential nature erode into a sea of drastic change like so many grains of sand racing away in retreating tides. My instinct to protect this child stumbles against the torrential swells of a pounding assault that callously presses on. It pushes and pulls, teases me with thoughts of catching these fragments of her disintegrating personality just out of reach, but there is no stopping its progression. I try to hold on but she has been caught in a current of confusion too strong to resist. She is sinking, swept from the shore of safety.

I close my eyes and prayerfully will this horror away as though I could wake from a dream but it is all too real. There is nowhere to hide in an alternate scenario where all is well. I inwardly run to the rock on which my life has been built for decades and throw out an anchor of faith to be held fast in the firm grasp of the living God. It is in him and his strength I will take my stand for us both.

It is Friday morning. I grab the pre-packed bags I’ve learned to keep prepared for such a time as this and face the road ahead. I go alone in the midst of a global coronavirus pandemic together in spirit with a family of faith whose prayers request mighty eagle wings to carry us and keep our loved one in his protective care. I go with one foot on the accelerator and the other on God’s certain promises of enduring presence. I attend her through this very dark valley into which she has stumbled as loose stones on the mountain heights of a seemingly good initial recovery break free and betray her footing.

I go not knowing where this road will lead.

We park the car and walk around the block together to enter the emergency room doors, her arm draped through mine to stabilize her weakening steps. Coronavirus screening stations plastered with notices of ever-changing health policies and restrictions silently threaten to impede my accompaniment with her into the assessment area but it is quickly evident she needs me to be her voice and I am exempted from the strictly enforced rules.

Within a very short span of time, she is stretched out on a narrow bed in cubicle six, intravenous running, blood work taken, CT scans on both her abdomen and head administered. Hepatic and neurology teams converge and examine, question and deliberate, yet they are unable to arrive at an immediately conclusive diagnosis. Something at the embolization site? Stroke? Seizures? Infection? Liver function? Other? It is clear from the outset this elusive and invasive destroyer of life would not give up its tactics, resources, or position without a fight against persistent medical attempts to demystify its strategic advantage.