Dr. Brock’s office was the same temperature as Dr. Taylor’s―freezing. Jim, Sarah, and Carissa sat in the examination room after Carissa’s vital signs were taken and then waited to meet the neurosurgeon. No one said anything. Jim didn’t make Dad jokes, and Sarah offered no comforting advice. Carissa didn’t want to be there at all. It seemed like the cool gray walls were crowding in on them, threatening to crush the family in a cube of indifference.
They had been waiting for what felt like a lifetime, and then a white-coated man strolled through the doorway. Dr. Brock was young, with blond hair and hazel eyes, and about six feet tall. “Hi!” he said. “Where’s Carissa?”
Carissa adjusted in her chair and piped up. “You’re looking for me,” she responded.
“Great! And you two must be Mom and Dad. Good to meet you all. ”He shook hands around the room, and then took the rolling chair nearest to the computer.
“I see here that your recent urodynamic study showed some bladder changes, and Dr. Taylor is concerned about tethered cord, so he sent you to me. Is that accurate?”
“Yes,” Carissa answered.
“And you had the MRI I ordered for Friday?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Great! Let me go get that file and take a look, and then we’ll talk about what I see.” He rose from the chair and shook everyone’s hand again, starting with Carissa’s. “Then we can come up with a plan.”
“Okay,” Carissa murmured.
Dr. Brock stepped out and left them alone again.
“He seems nice. Respectable,” Jim said.
“Yeah. I like him,” Sarah replied. “You’re quiet, Carissa. Everything okay?”
“Just nervous,” Carissa admitted.
“I know, baby. At least we’ll know what we’re facing soon. Hang in there.” Sarah patted her daughter’s knee.
Just then, Dr. Brock stepped back into the room. Carissa felt her heart speed up.
“Okay, so here’s what I see,” Dr. Brock stated. “The bladder test alone doesn’t necessarily point straight to tethered cord, but that, along with what we see here on the MRI, is definitely cause for concern.” He took his seat again and looked directly at Carissa. “Carissa, I had the opportunity to look over some of your past MRIs, ones you may not remember from being so young, and I do see some changes I don’t like. There is definitely some new tethering going on and, based on the bladder changes, I think it’s best we intervene now to prevent further damage. I would like to go in and take a look to see if I can move the spinal cord away from the structures it’s stuck to right now. Hospital stay is about a week, depending on how well you do, and full recovery can take up to six months. You’ll be able to resume normal activities long before that, though. It’ll just be harder for a while, again, depending on how well you recover.”
Carissa felt hot tears fill her eyes and drip down her cold face. She couldn’t do this again! She hated spina bifida and all that came with it, especially being cut repeatedly. She hated everything about surgery, and this doctor wanted to do another one. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. She looked over at her mom for comfort, and saw tears streaming down her face, too. “Mom, I can’t do this again.”
“Yes, you can, baby. You’re stronger than you think. I’ve seen you come through so much worse. We’ll do it again.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ll leave you guys alone to process all this,” Dr. Brock interrupted the silence, “and I’ll let my secretary know you need to schedule a pre-op. Take your time. Come out when you’re ready, and we’ll take care of the rest.” He got up and leaned down to place a hand on Carissa’s shoulder. “Carissa, I’m very good at what I do. You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll see you guys outside.” And he left them alone.
They didn’t talk much. Carissa cried. Sarah held her, and Jim held Sarah. They just sat there in silence for a long time, until Jim broke the silence. “Come on, guys. Let’s go schedule this thing… show it we’re not afraid.”
They went down the hallway to the receptionist’s desk, where Jim explained they needed a pre-op appointment for a tethered cord release.
The girl, a short, pretty brunette with dark eyes, looked through the notes on her desk. “Yes, sir. For Carissa, right? I’ve got the paperwork right here. Dr. Brock said he’d like to get her in as soon as possible, at least by the end of the month. We have pre-op appointments, typically on Mondays. How is Monday, a week from today?”
Carissa nodded. She would likely have to drop out of school for the semester. The way Dr. Brock was talking, recovery was all dependent on how her body took the surgery. There was no way to tell for sure when she’d be able to come back.
And what about Isaac? Would he stick around if she wasn’t in his Algebra class anymore? She hoped he didn’t lose interest. All of this was just terrible timing, and she hated it.
They finalized the appointment and headed toward home.
“Carissa? You okay?” Sarah asked from the front passenger seat.
Carissa took a breath. “Yeah, just absorbing. I guess I’ll have to drop math and English this semester. I’ll email my teachers when we get home. I just hate all of this. I was really getting somewhere, and then spina bifida showed up again. It seems like I go so long, and everything’s fine, and then BAM! Hit by the spina bifida truck again. It just gets old.”
Sarah nodded. “I know, but maybe this will be the last thing for a while. I hate it, too.”
The rest of the car ride home was quiet, as each of them tried to grasp the weight of it all. They all had their own ways of coping and, for now, silence seemed the most soothing thing for all of them. They just sat. No radio, no conversation. Just each individual, lost in thought.
Carissa thought about what to tell Isaac. Could he handle this? Weeks of recovery, where she may not be herself at all, and definitely wouldn’t be up for chocolate chip muffin dates. She hoped he would hang around. She really liked him.
When they got home, they went their separate ways, Sarah to the kitchen, and Jim to his home office. Carissa went to her bedroom to email teachers and text Isaac.
Once the emails were sent, Carissa felt empty. She was the kind of girl who needed to be doing something, accomplishing things, and now she was just stalled out, waiting on this surgery. She decided it was time to tell Isaac.
“Hey,” she texted. “I just got home from the doctor.”
He texted back immediately. “How’d it go?”
“Not great. They found what they were looking for. Pre-op is Monday.”
His response came quickly. “Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t want this for you. Are you okay?”
She hesitated a moment, her fingers hovering, then began to type. “Uh… yes, and no. I just hate this. I have to drop my classes. There’s just no way I could keep up.”
“Oh, no,” he exclaimed. “Does this mean no more chocolate chip muffin dates? I really liked those.”
That made her smile. “Yeah. I guess so. I just can’t imagine doing school and this surgery.”
“Yeah, I get it. Hey, maybe I could just bring the muffins to you?”
“Well, that’s fine. You can if you want to.” Her dad would like that, because it would mean Isaac wasn’t giving up.
“So are we still on for dinner Friday night? I understand if you’re not up for it. No pressure.”
“Oh, yeah, we’re on. Recovery starts after surgery! I plan to just keep living until then.”
“Great,” he said, and she felt him grinning. “I’ll see you Friday night.”
Well, he was still on for dinner. That was good. She just hoped he could handle surgical recovery.
* * *
When they got home, Sarah retreated to the kitchen and the small table in the corner. Tears welled up in her eyes. How could she make her little girl lie down for another surgery? Every time she had to hand her daughter over to another surgeon, it broke her again. It made her feel like she had failed as a mom, not to be able to fix these things without putting her little girl through such agony. How could she do this to her again?
When she saw the tears streaming down Carissa’s face in the doctor’s office, it broke her heart. Carissa was such a strong girl. She had no idea. She’d been through so much in her short life that most people never even had to think about. Sarah knew she’d conquer this surgery, just like she had every other one, but that didn’t change the hurt in her heart at seeing her daughter cry.
* * *
Jim was devastated. He wandered into his office, ignoring the files and boxes everywhere. He sank down in his desk chair and buried his head on his arms. He was a fixer, but he couldn’t fix this, for either his daughter or his wife. Both were distraught at the thought of going through another operation and, if he was honest, he wanted to cry right along with them. He hated to see his girls hurt. And he hated not being able to pick up the pieces for them. Why did they have to go through this again? It wasn’t fair, and he felt helpless.