Two Months Post-Op: Prayers, Delays, and The Surgeon’s Good News

Thank you everyone for praying for my appointment with the neurosurgeon in Colorado. The prayers were needed. Travel was hard on my body.

We flew Sunday and rested Monday. Tuesday was appointment day. We were up at 4:30 a.m. our time to take a Lyft to the clinic across from the hospital for x-rays. It had to be done early so the radiologist could read it and send it to the surgeon to review before our appointment. Usually, I would get the scans done here and send them over ahead of time, but the office missed it.

After that, we walked to Starbucks to wait three hours for the neurosurgery appointment. We spent the time organizing my symptoms, notes, my questions, and questions from my physical therapists and neurologist.

After sitting in Starbucks for hours, we finally went across the street to the hospital. When we walked into the clinic, the receptionist turned around and called for a nurse. The nurse ran around the corner and said the surgeon was called into emergency surgery and I would need to come back on Thursday.

Right away, my mom and I said in unison, “We flew from Washington.” There was a scurry around the corner, and we waited a few minutes for a nurse to come and say that we could come back at 3:30.

We went back outside and had to figure out what to do while we waited. We didn’t want to take another Lyft just to come back later. We walked around a bit and then ended up back at Starbucks. It became a very long and exhausting day. I thought it would take up the morning and early afternoon, and then I would have time to rest before we traveled back home.

Finally, the time came to meet with the neurosurgeon. He is pleased with my progress. My scar is healing very well. The x-rays show that all the screws are in place and exactly where they need to be. We talked through my symptoms and how to treat or monitor them. We talked through the scary symptoms that sent me to the ER at OHSU. He had a fresh take and thinks they are related to post-surgical complications, not nerve damage. Most of the symptoms, he thinks, can be managed by medication and physical therapy. It was really good news and an answer to my prayer. Thank you everyone for praying with me for healing and through this very stressful time.

This is the most recent x-ray I had done in Colorado. The curving in my neck is from surgery and being in the brace. The brace is to keep those screws in place, while they solidify into place. I will do physical therapy in the future to strengthen and straighten the neck. The second screw going down is the one that gives me chills to look at 😬

I’m now able to lift 10 pounds and can start weaning off the neck brace. My neck muscles are very weak, so it’s going to be a slow process. The brace has a knob in the front that you can pull up and twist to adjust it up or down. Right now, the brace is supporting my head. During the day, I’m going to start turning the knob to make it loose, and then when my neck gets fatigued, adjust it back up (beginning with 2–5 minutes).

When my neck gets a little stronger and used to holding itself up again, I’m going to move to a soft collar, which doesn’t support your head as much but still protects it. Eventually, I will work to one of those travel pillows—not for support, but to keep my head movements in range.

Physical therapy is starting slow. I’m going for walks daily with my walker. 5 minutes out and 5 minutes back. There is also therapy for my eyes. I have a popsicle stick with the letter “A” on it. I hold it out in front of me and pull it toward me until it blurs, then I restart for a few sets. Then I do the same thing sideways. It’s going to be a long time to build up strength—especially since I was so deconditioned before this surgery, plus the other two surgeries. My body is weak, and this next year feels daunting. I probably have two years of 4–5 therapy appointments per week in front of me once I work up to them all. That will include balance/neck therapy, POTS protocol, speech/cognitive therapy, occupational therapy (handwriting, grip), and strain-counterstrain therapy. They almost all come with homework too.

I asked the surgeon how much longer he expected my pain to last and how high it should be. My pain is still incredibly high. My mom keeps a schedule and wakes me up throughout the night to stay ahead of the pain. I still wake up multiple times a night in pain, and there’s usually a point in the day I can feel myself wanting to slip into a meltdown like a child because the pain gets so bad it feels like I can’t talk. The surgeon said he absolutely expects it to be that high right now. He said to expect the pain to come down and feel better by the 6-month mark.

At 12 weeks, in December, I’m going to have a CT to check the bone graft and make sure it is still in place. That will also be when I have another check-in with the surgeon virtually.

These last few weeks felt so turbulent and so exhausting. I have a long way to go, but I made it past the two-month mark. I’m so grateful for all the prayers and messages. I received messages of prayers and encouragement in the moments I needed them the most. I came home to a gift from a friend and a card from an unknown sender. I don’t know who sent the card or how you got my address, but thank you so much for the card and encouragement.

The last month has been about surviving, and I haven’t been up to responding much, but thanks for all the love and support. 💜

Shae

Whoever sent this card to me, thank you so much, for your thoughtfulness. I received it the day I got home and it warmed my heart.

Come What May

I love concerts, the planning and anticipation. Going to events is different for me now. I have to time it and plan for days of rest before and after the event. At a concert, I am trying to be fully present in the moment, but at the same time tuned into my symptoms and trying to manage them, so I can be there. I have polaroid sunglasses that my physical therapist recommended I wear, even indoors, to help with overstimulation. Often, I have to leave and find a quiet place to take a break. 

Isla and my mom are my music buddies. We always share new music and talk through everything about the songs. One of our favorite bands is We Are Messengers. We’ve seen them in concert several times and love them. Their songs were on my playlist I listened to in the hospital after my first brain surgery. 

They came to Oregon back in October, so Isla and did some dog sitting to get tickets. 

The week before the concert was when the first MRI came back with the findings of a fluid collection. I was scheduled for a neurosurgery appointment, but still had to wait a few weeks. I was already feeling very sick at that point and could tell my physical symptoms were getting worse. 

I was disappointed that I felt so sad and heavy during this concert that we had all been waiting for. I don’t go to many big events like that, so it was a big deal. A lot of planning of symptom management and coping went into this. My doctor says it’s good for me to have an event or something to look forward to that will help keep my mind occupied. 

 I was so upset that to have this MRI  hanging over me the whole night. I always have this feeling of wanting to be fully present and not miss anything, but I feel like I’m always able to be fully in the moment. I think that comes from losing and missing out on so much because of my illness. 

It was an amazing concert and we had so much fun. There were a few times I had to sit down and close my eyes. I popped an instant ice bag on the back of my neck to help calm some symptoms that helped. They played one of my favorite songs, Come What May.  But standing up and singing “come what may” while you’re waiting on an appointment with a neurosurgeon to discuss a collection of fluid in your brain, was easily the scariest moment I have ever experienced in worship. 

I couldn’t sing it and I felt so angry. Angry with my life, for the life I lost, the life I have with this illness and how unclear and scary the future seemed. This is not the life I ever imagined for myself and there’s times I resent it. I resent my illness and the struggles it brings both physically and in relationships to with people who are close to me. It’s so isolating. 

I wrestled with God so much during that song. I think I was angry with Him too for how heavy everything felt and how I can never see a stopping point for this pain and struggle. Angry with how abandoned I felt. I was also angry at myself for not wanting to sing the phrase “come what may”. It was just too real and too scary. I kept thinking to myself can I do that sing that with sincerity and I am dreading my future. 

I remember pleading with God that I wanted nothing more coming my way and begging for a break and for some relief. To let things be calm for a little while so l could feel like I wasn’t constantly barely keeping my head above the water, about to go under any moment. 

I remember during this song feeling a heavy foreboding feeling sinking into me and I just knew something was wrong. Something was wrong with my body. I knew then the MRI scan was something more serious than I wanted it to be and that something was coming. In the middle of the song, I felt an overwhelming panic and despair, I dropped into my seat and wept. My mom and sister sat with me and we prayed together. 

On the way home we talked about the concert and that moment. I explained how that was one of my favorite songs, and my thoughts in that moment. It’s easy to sing songs like that when you feel far removed from trials, but it’s different when hardships they feel like they’re about to drop on you at any moment and crush you. 

Isla in the back seat quietly says, “it doesn’t change the meaning of the song. The truth is still the same.” She’s right of course, but I have struggled with that song ever since that night. It honestly made me feel angry and restless. I didn’t want to be confronted and think about the possibilities and questions it brought up. The big one was if my faith strong enough to be able to proudly and fiercely say to God, “come what may” knowing that I was probably up against another brain surgery and brutal recovery. 

I think I was feeling guilty for my faith feeling worn and lacking. I know that God is perfect in His love and would be faithful to me, but it all felt like too much. I didn’t want any more pain and suffering. I want my life before all of this illness back. 

A few weeks after that concert, is when I found out that the fluid collection is caused by a leak in my dura (the inside lining of your brain) and is still actively leaking and slightly growing. There’s scar tissue, and decreased CSF flow, which could be caused by the scaring or the fluid, possibly both. This is why I feel so sick and have developing mobility issues. I’m using a cane now. 

I heard “Come What May” on the radio a few days ago, right before we left home to fly to Colorado for surgery. My family was in the car, so we listened to it. 

This time though I heard it differently. The part of the song that I heard the loudest was “you’re still my rock, my hope remains, I rest in the arms of Jesus. Come what may.” The truth of that sank deep. 

He’s my rock in this time of suffering. There is nothing I can do to change this situation. I can’t stop the need for brain surgery or cure this incurable condition, and the changes and new symptoms, God does not change. God’s love and faithfulness to me has nothing to do with any of my abilities or lack of, it has nothing to do with my fears and the endless questions of what if’s. My hope is in Him and Him alone. He is the same on the mountain tops as he is in the valleys. 

We are now for CO for me to have my revision brain surgery TOMORROW. The surgery is to remove the fluid, scar tissue, and part of it is exploratory to see exactly where the leak is and what is going on and causing the blockage. 

Please pray for me.  Pray for my family. It’s not my first brain surgery, so we know in some ways what to expect, which is terrifying, but there is still so much unknown. I feel scared and dread for what’s coming, but also hopeful that this will be that last surgery and bring some physical healing and improve my quality of life. 

So, while this is not at all what I would have chosen for my life and I’m scared, and don’t know what the future holds. I can say that God is still good to me. I see his tender mercies and His love for me. 

Sometimes sorrow is the door to peace

Sometimes heartache is the gift I need

You’re faithful, faithful

In all things

In every high, in every low

On mountaintops, down broken roads

You’re still my rock, my hope remains

I’ll rest in the arms of Jesus

Come what may “

Thank you all for your continued support and faithful love and prayers.

Shae

TOMOROW IS THE DAY!!

The other GoFundMe had some problems, so my friends Amy Munoz and Heather Hartrim-Lowe have organized a new one. Tomorrow is the day i am having my second brain surgery! We barely made it out here to Denver, because of the weather, but we are here!

We appreciate all of your support, it’s taking a lot to be here and the expense of the surgery itself. They need me to stay out here for two weeks to make sure there are no complications. Then I will have a 10 day follow up appointment with them where they will remove my staples and do an evaluation to clear me for the flight home. I also need to come back to CO in two months for a follow up appointment.

I’m using a cane now because I have developed some mobility and balance issues. I’m losing the fine motor skills in my hands too and barely able to write with a pen. My ability to do math and keep track of time is gone right now, adding 2+5 is beyond me and time is confusing. There is short term memory loss also. The headaches are nonstop because of the fluid blockage in my brain. Hopefully, this surgery will heal and restore those things or at least stop the progression and will greatly improve my quality of life.



We would like to cover January 15, 2024 in prayer for Shae as she goes in for her 2nd brain surgery. Please join us in praying for Shae: every part of her procedure and recovery, the doctors and nurses, hospital staff, hospital, operating room, recovery room, and Shae’s family. Let us pray that in all things God’s will be done.

Shae had brain decompression surgery in March 2021 for a rare condition called Chiari Malformation (kee-AH-ree mal-for-MAY-shun) Type I. Since then, Shae has experienced complications, including a leak and scar tissue that is growing like a weed at the site of the previous surgery.

Last year Shae had over 135 medical appointments which does not include the ER and urgent care visits. There have also been dozens of trips to the pharmacy and calls to doctors and insurance, not to mention all of the scheduling. It’s overwhelming!

Shae is going to a specialist in Colorado who is familiar with this rare complication. Shae hasn’t been able to work or return to school and needs support for travel to Denver and upcoming medical bills.

Shae’s 2nd surgery is scheduled for January 15th, 2024. The goal of this surgery is to remove the scar tissue and replace the initial duraplasty (the outer covering of the brain). The hope is to stop the cerebral spinal fluid leak. In addition, exploratory surgery will look for additional complications. After surgery Shae will need to stay in Colorado for ten days. At her ten-day follow-up exam, the doctors will assess her recovery and remove the staples before releasing her for travel home. Shae will also need to go back to Colorado for a follow up in two months.

Please consider helping Shae and her family financially as they navigate this extraordinary medical journey.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-shaes-brain-surgery-and-recovery