Update
I just got a call from the OR. Dr. Schwartz continues to work on the tumor.
Tag: Veronica
“Everything is going well”
Dr. Friedman just came to me and said, “everything is going well. Everything is exposed and there haven’t been any complications.” Dr. Schwartz and his team are now going to remove the tumor.
Eviction Day for Norman
I’ve been planning the title of this post for months. Today is the day. No turning back.
I didn’t sleep last night. I rested fairly peacefully (outside of some intial tears when I laid down,) but I feel relatively peaceful right now. The last two nights I’ve slept with the prayer shawl that was given to me after mass on Sunday. Not only did the soft yarn bring a physical comfort, but it was emotionally and spiritually comforting knowing the number of prayers that were offered up during it’s creation.
We’re supposed to report to the hospital at 6:30 AM local time. There’s a short surgery before mine and then the operating room will be turned over and I’ll be brought in. I’ve never had general anesthesia, so there are many unknowns for me. I’ve been told the first couple of days are going to be especially rough – nausea, dizziness (from losing my balance nerve,) and pain. After those hard days, it’s supposed to get better. Lots of walking = how my brain will learn to compensate for the loss of the right side balance center.
Please keep up your prayers for me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. So many unknowns surround the one surgical known – I’ll be single-side deaf. But there is also one known that is bigger than all of this, than all of us. God’s love for me is unfailing and I believe He has been and will continue to guide me on the path to healing – wherever and however that healing needs to take place.
T minus twelve hours
We spent the day talking with highly trained medical professionals. We revisited the choice of procedures again. The doctors wanted to give Veronica the choice between a long shot of keeping her hearing, or a procedure that would give the neurosurgeon the best chance of getting all of the tumor out. She chose to stick with her original decision and will lose her hearing as a result of the surgery.
After the appointments, we went with Fr. Joseph (who flew in from STL to be with us for the next few days,) to the Marine Recruit Base. There, Fr. Joseph and his friend Fr. Joe Coffey concelebrated Mass for us. Afterwards, Fr. Joe took us on a tour of the Navy base on Coronado. Veronica said it was a nice distraction from tomorrow’s reality.
We had a nice dinner at Hotel Del Cornado and spent a little time walking on the beach and listening to the ocean. Veronica is now tired enough to sleep to be ready to get to the hospital at 6am.
Last mass with two “working” ears
Unbeknownst to me (but not that he was keeping it a secret,) Jake reached out to friends of ours at our church prior to our last mass there before leaving for San Diego with this message:
“As you may know, Veronica and I are leaving for San Diego on Sunday afternoon. In this blog post, Veronica mentioned the music at St. Paul’s. We have discussed our last pre-op Mass as a family a few times. If your schedule allows, would you please sit near us during the celebration of Mass at St. Paul’s at 8:30 this Sunday? Being literally surrounded by our Parish Family during Mass will help Veronica greatly. I don’t intend for this to be a surprise but a simple show of support for her.”
There is something about the physical presence of someone who you know cares about you that can bring a sense of peace – even for a short amount of time. I experienced that peace this morning. Yes, there were tears, but also a true understanding that God is in control and I have an army of prayer warriors supporting me as I face surgery and the start of recovery in the coming days.
ETA: The following post was written by a friend on Facebook on 1/22/18.
Yesterday after Mass, I had the privilege of witnessing an amazing outpouring of love and support for a beautiful young wife and mother of four who will be undergoing brain surgery tomorrow. Her husband, Jake had arraigned for people to sit around or near Veronica during Mass as a sign of love to her. What happened after Mass will forever be etched in my heart and soul. After the final song, 15+ women surrounded Veronica and gently, lovingly placed their hands over her and prayed as she wept and released her suffering at the Foot of Christ’s Alter. When I lifted my head, I saw Jake sitting at the end of the pew surrounded by 15+ men with their hands outstretched in prayer beseeching God Almighty for strength, wisdom and peace for Jake and Veronica. Several of the men were holding their young children as they prayed. I can’t fully describe this beautiful outpouring of love and support from The Body of Christ, but I’m confident the Lord heard our prayers and will shower them with grace to follow this path placed before them. Please pray for Veronica tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. Central time as she takes the next step in faith and love. God bless you, Veronica Cimperman Sheck.
P.S. I might add that we are praying for a miracle that Veronica will NOT lose her hearing in one ear when the tumor is removed. Like my husband said, “Praying that Norman (the tumor’s name) will just peel off and leave everything else in tact.” Doesn’t hurt to ask.
Glow-in-one
Larissa came over earlier in the day and entertained/watched the kids so Jake and I could get some last minute house things in order before his parents come tomorrow. House is clean, laundry is almost caught up, schedules for the next two weeks are ready to go.
After mini-golf we went out for dinner and came home and played Telestrations. Jake read to the boys and I laid in the girls’ room and talked with them before saying goodnight.
I am really going to miss our kids. Deep breath. I hope I can sleep tonight.
T minus one week
One week from today I’ll be rolled in to an operating room where a surgical team will save my life.
Writing that just stopped me in my tracks.
If I hadn’t pursued the bothersome pain in my ear a year ago, if my recurring sinus infections hadn’t annoyed me to the point where I sought treatment from an ENT, if I hadn’t stopped to take the time to take care of myself, if I hadn’t finally had an MRI done, I still may not know why the right side of my inner ear hurts, or why things just don’t quite feel right.
If left untreated, this tumor could cause significant side-effects, including death. It’s hard to believe that something so slow-growing can do such damage to a person.
Shecklet #3 has been having a particularly difficult time with the idea of Jake and me leaving for two weeks. I get it. I don’t want to leave my kids either. But I remind her (and in doing so, remind myself) that I’m leaving because I need to. I need to have this stupid brain tumor removed so I have can have the opportunity to be there for my husband and kids in the future. I know I’ve got a long road ahead of me. I’ve heard recovery sucks. But if going through all of this means I get to live, then let’s go. Norman has overstayed his welcome. (Actually he was never welcome in the first place!)
I had a change in perspective today. A while back I wrote about the “lasts” that I would be experiencing between then and my surgery. Today I realized that while yes, that’s true, after surgery there will be a plethora of “firsts” as well. And even though I’ll be experiencing sound in a dramatically different way, those are things I to look forward to.
So How Are You Doing?
“So, how are you doing?” Even though this question has been asked multiple times, I still don’t know what to say.
Our first meeting to discuss Veronica’s diagnosis was with Dr. Adams at the University of Minnesota. While Dr. Adams talked about what they found in the MRI with us, the resident who was with Dr. Adams pulled up the MRI images on a screen behind her. In that moment I recognized this is something real and monumental. I felt very small and unprepared, but I knew I would do anything to help Veronica.
At first when people asked me the question of “How are you doing?” my thoughts went right to the little guy that on the Axiom in the movie Wall-E. The whole situation seemed epic and on its own trajectory, while I just needed to be around to help remove “foreign contaminants.”
I soon realized that this was completely wrong. This isn’t just about Veronica, it is about all of us supporting her. When we started to tell people about the diagnosis we were met with an outpouring of compassion and offers to help from almost everyone that we shared with. Even people I consider casual acquaintances have offered time and resources. I need to allow everyone around us to do their part. This makes me feel like Veronica, the kids and I can get through to the other side of this not unscathed, but well cared for. So how am I? I feel well. I feel at peace knowing that so many people are prepared to help in any way they can.
Approved!
I spoke with Kris at UCSD a little while ago. She shared that the surgical coordinator spoke with my insurance company yesterday and it’s official, surgery is a go for 1/23. The exact time may change from what I was told several weeks ago, but only by a few hours. I will know the definite time when I have my pre-op meeting with the surgeons on 1/22.
Jake asked me how I feel now that I have this news. Honestly, I think I’ve reached the point in the process where I’ve accepted what is in front of me and I’m ready. I know there are still many unknowns (e.g. How will I handle anesthesia? Will they be able to remove the entire tumor? What will the impact on my facial nerve be? How quickly will I regain my balance? How will the adjustment to SSD go?) but I will face each one as I’ve faced my initial diagnosis and I know I’ll get through them. I’m not anticipating any of it will be easy, but I know I’m not alone. I have the love and support of my husband and kids and so many others who have stepped forward to walk through this alongside me.
Now my focus can shift to prepping things for the Shecklets and my in-laws for the two weeks we’ll be gone.
T minus 2 weeks.