ICU day 8

Cleared to leave ICU today, Susan moved to the neuro floor this evening when a bed became available. She’s penciled in for surgery tomorrow as an add-on to a full calendar; and unless there’s a reasonably early opening, they’ll defer to Friday.

The neuro team decided to internalize her lower shunt line by sterilizing and tucking it away under her skin. It’s actually still blocked and not functioning, so this offers the least amount of disturbance. If she needs a new shunt in the future, they’ll remove the old one during that surgery. I also consented with the vascular surgery team to implant another power-port catheter. They expect a routine procedure.

Susan has been making great progress in recovery, so we’re hoping the trend continues when she gets to acute rehab. Depending on the timing of surgery and her status afterward, she could be transferred on the weekend, perhaps as soon as Friday.

It’s been wonderful to see how some of the ICU nurses who’ve attended to Susan over the past week like to come in and visit her. They’re enthralled with her joy, her smile, and her sweet nature. Tonight, Paolo told Susan she’s the sweetest lady ever, “no joke.” Earlier, Stella said how amazed and thrilled they are to have a GBM patient who’s nearly a six-year survivor and who’s making headway towards home. Too often, brain cancer patients come to ICU with advanced disease and poor outcomes. It must be satisfying to have patients with good results.

I wrote recently about fearing God for his power and enjoying him for his love. Today I read a devotional comparing the fear of the Lord to our natural fears. There’s a proper fear of the Lord in the sense of respect, like being afraid of offending your parents or another person you admire. We must learn to fear God; but the fear of the Lord is unavoidable the better we know him.

Of our many fears that don’t require much learning, perhaps our greatest is death. It makes sense. We were meant to live. The idea of “game over” is scary. But knowing God – and properly fearing him – means our fears have context. Just as everything we place under his dominion becomes rightly ordered, so does the realm of fear.

If God himself becomes our greatest fear, all others become lesser, even small. Even death. As odd as it sounds, the fear of the Lord becomes our ultimate comfort. Like a frightened child who runs into the arms of a strong and loving father, each of us can take refuge in the shadow of the Almighty, where he welcomes us.

I have small fears about Susan’s surgery tomorrow, about more complications, about her dying. We gave them tonight to the one we fear more. We asked God to guide the surgeons’ eyes and minds and hands, and we asked him for a good outcome. We thanked him for his love and faithfulness, and told him we appreciate his power and his peace. That’s it. It feels good to leave our fears with God because he can handle them better than we can.