Friday we went to see a cardiac specialist. You know, for when a cardiologist just isn't special enough. It was not the news we wanted to hear, but somehow it wasn't a complete surprise either. Jason's heart is weak. Very weak. Medicine just isn't enough anymore and it is time to take the next big step.
That includes an LVAD. That's a ventricle assist device that will be implanted into Jason's heart and stay there forever. It will help his heart pump by sort of pumping for him. They aren't sure if that's what will happen next, but it will happen now or sometime in the future.
We learned that if they do the cardiac catherization and find that his heart needs the support of an LVAD that without it, he has a 20% chance of living through the next year. This is just unacceptable. With the device, life expectancy for one year is 88% and 3 years is 60%. I hate that math.
I could hardly keep from crying the rest of the day. I could only play out the very worst scenarios in my head and my brain just swimmed with the thoughts of trying to take care of the kids in one place and him an hour and forty minutes away. How could this work? Where is the priority? What if it was all for nothing? What if I couldn't do it? What if the kids suffer? What if I lose the love of my life?
Even when you expect news like that, it is not easy to take. Jason was reeling too. The suffering of the last year just seems to continue. His strength and perseverance are incredible. The mental fortitude that he has displayed is beyond anything I've ever known. His ability to father and love has only improved despite the physical stresses of the last year. But this? This was hard.
"The truth" he told me "is that I'm dying. This is going to slow that down. Did you hear what he said about the statistics?"
Hear it? It has echoed so much in my head that its starting to hurt again. Then I thought about a few days ago. I had my first migraine. It was awful. He held me as I cried. He took care of me. Even though he was exhausted beyond reason, he drove me to the doctor, the emergency room, the pharmacy and helped me rest. He told me "It's gonna be all right." I needed that. I always need that. Every day. What would I do if I lost him? How would I have handled this emergency myself? How would I handle anything myself?
The truth is we are are fearful of the journey ahead. It could be painful and long. It could be worse on the other side. It could the straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back. There isn't a clear path. The future seems murky.
But, it could also be better. This could be thing that makes Jason feel like himself again. This could be what gives him the strength to continue to hold our family together and minister to those around him. This? This could be the point where in ten years we say "When God did this, everything changed."
We are 100% confident that God can fix this. We know that this is nothing for Him. We've witnessed His movement and His miracles in our lives. We are a living testimony of how God fixes broken people and uses their imperfect lives. We know that He can make better things happen than we could even imagine.
We also know that sometimes what we want isn't in His plan. We know that walking in faith sometimes means walking through a big pile of shit. Sometimes our faith walk is filled with pain, confusion and dismay. Sometimes, our heavenly Daddy says "no" and we have to take the long road.
I can't fathom the thought of Jason not seeing Sophie grow up. I can't imagine Joey not having this amazing man to look up to. I can't imagine losing the other part of myself.
So, I won't.
We will push on in the confidence that God is with us and God is working. We will lean on those around us when we can't stand on our own. We will humbly ask for help when we would rather do it by ourselves. We will worry, but then we will focus on the next step and do it. We will fear, but then we'll remember that God has given us love, power and a sound mind. We will pray and we will love and will we cling to each other even more than we have before.
