God and Hospital Booties

by Maggie Buckley 

I had had dizzy and weakness spells since I was in high school, but no doctor had ever taken them seriously. In December 2001, I held my son, Jack (who was eleven months old at the time), and I had a spell so strong that my entire left side went numb, and I dropped Jack on the kitchen floor. 

An MRI yielded an answer: a quarter-sized “benign cystic glioma” growing in the rear, right-hand part of my brain. It was causing seizures (those dizzy things) that were gaining in strength as it grew. Scarily enough, a Google search of “cystic glioma” revealed that I had only 18 months to live. As you can imagine, I was hysterical. I remember calling my family doctor and telling the receptionist, “This is Maggie. I have a brain tumor, and I need to talk to my doctor NOW!!!” 

Here is a picture of the scan:    

I think that was the first and only time where I’ve ever gotten through to a doctor on the phone. Fortunately, the World Wide Web was wrong (the key word missing in my search was “benign.”) But the tumor still had to come out. 

So in February 2002, I settled in at University Hospital. I required two surgeries about four days apart . . . TWO surgeries because the neurosurgeon didn’t get it all the first time around. Both times, as I went into the operating room, I held a photo of Jack in my hand, all the while murmuring, “A year (with my son) was not enough”—hoping that God felt the same way. I was scared to death! My husband and parents sat in the waiting room for several hours waiting to hear reports from the surgical nurses. 

After I awoke from the second surgery, I was in for a shock. No feeling on my left side. I couldn’t hold a pen, I couldn’t walk—my left side was useless. I was completely disoriented and apparently quite disagreeable. I don’t remember much of the first few days except for snippets here and there; I’m sure my brain was somewhat scrambled! I remember asking for my best friend, Debbie, a lot! She was the only person I wanted to see. I remember getting my arm stuck in the bars of my hospital bed and calling out for help seemingly forever. I vaguely remember begging a nurse to let me call my husband, David, and when she finally gave me the phone, I cried and told him to come and get me, that the nurses were hurting me. At 2:00 a.m., with Jack sleeping down the hall, what was David going to do? He spoke with the nurse, getting her assurances that I was totally out of my mind, and they were not, in fact, hurting me; he planned to return to the hospital first thing in the morning. 

Nothing to Do But Pray 

Sometimes in your life, you come to a point where you hit a wall: a crisis of faith. You realize that the event facing you is bigger than you. It is monstrous, UN-scal-able. You realize that you have absolutely NO CONTROL, and to get through it, you must turn to the One who is “big” enough to help you through this. At the moment of that frantic, wild, middle-of-the-night phone call, there was nothing David could do except pray. Pray for strength for himself. Pray for healing for me. Pray that I was not surrounded by a bunch of sadistic hospital personnel. Pray that he wouldn’t be left a single father. 

Before each of my surgeries, there was nothing I could do but pray. Pray for strength, pray for healing. Pray that the surgeons would successfully remove the tumor (though I should have prayed that it only took one surgery!). Pray that God would allow me to be David’s wife and Jack’s mother a while longer. I had left letters for David and Jack . . . “just in case” I didn’t make it, praying fervently the whole time that they wouldn’t have cause to read them. 

What do you do in this kind of situation if you don’t have faith? How do you go into surgery on your brain, no less, if you don’t believe that a higher power is watching over you? One who had your best interests at heart? How do you sit in a waiting room while your wife has part of her skull removed and her brain dissected, to remove a tumor? 

David and I both released control of our lives to an entity we cannot see, hear, smell, or touch—believing in God’s love and power to help us through this. Whatever you face, whatever your wall, please realize that nothing is too big for God. Two surgeries and a few months of rehab later, I was healed. I can walk. I can move my left side. I am alive. Hospital booties are some scary shoes to wear, but the last thing you want to do is GIVE UP control of anything. But God has your back—and he is big enough to help you navigate even the scariest of paths. 

It’s been 24 years and many follow-up scans and tests since the brain tumor was removed from my head. I’d like to say that I checked off “medical crisis” and no other medical issues ever came up again. Of course, that’s not the case—our bodies are a depreciating asset—they require upgrades or intervention from time to time. It’s not a case of IF something will happen, but when. However, now when medical issues arise (or any other hard thing I have to face), I have experience with God pulling me through. I know firsthand the love and faithfulness of God’s goodness and healing power. 

I love the refrain from the song, “King of My Heart.” When you are worried, anxious, stressed, or grieving, I find it helps to repeat the refrain—breathing in and out with each line:

You are good . . . (breathe in) good . . . (breath out) ohhhh. (breathe in and out);    You are good . . . (breathe in) good . . . (breath out) ohhhh. (breathe in and out).    You are good . . . (breathe in) good . . . (breath out) ohhhh. (breathe in and out);  You are good . . . (breathe in) good . . . (breath out) ohhhh. (breathe in and out). 

Remind yourself that God’s got this—no matter what you are facing! 

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV). 

Maggie Buckley is a former first grade teacher turned graphic designer of digital scrapbooking art. She has been married to her husband, David, for 30 years and has two sons: Jack (25) and Luke (22). When not designing, you’ll find her organizing her extensive “Nerd Room” of pop culture figures and props, reading, or scrapbooking her own layouts. Maggie also serves as a mentor mom and co-leader of the Moms’ Group at Christ’s Church.